Dare Me Once

by Shelly Alexander

  Trace’s expression morphed from dazed to confused. When he finally worked through his emotions to settle on just one, it stole her breath. She’d expected anger. Anger she could’ve handled much better than the pain she saw in his eyes, as though she’d just stabbed him in the heart with a rusty icepick.

  So she made it easier for him. Took some of the burden because he didn’t deserve to carry it all.

  She gave him a reason to fire her.

  “My father embezzled millions from FEMA and homeowners who’d lost everything. He defrauded businesspeople who’d invested into rebuilding hotels and casinos along the Gulf Coast. He’s got a lot of enemies who’ve made threats and hate me by association.” She let her eyes close for a beat. “I suppose Ben’s mom could use it against you, especially since I spent so much time with Ben.”

  Trace’s eyes were as hollow as his tone. “Scarlett.” His voice was dull, resonating with the sound of brokenness and betrayal. So very different from the Voice that had turned her heart and her body into mush when its very first syllable licked over her. “You’re fired.”

  She swallowed. Tried to stop the quiver of her lip and the bile welling up from her churning stomach. “I . . . I understand. I’d . . . like to tell Lawrence myself.” Despite her best effort, her voice still cracked.

  “You’ve done enough. I’ll take care of it. Be ready to leave as soon as the storm blows over.”

  She nodded. “For what it’s worth, I planned to tell you everything after I fulfilled my responsibilities to the resort and the other businesses who are working with us.” She turned to trek up the path.

  She’d expected as much. Deserved it, even.

  Still, nothing prepared her for the pain that knifed through her chest as she made her way to her cottage, knowing she’d never see the resort, the island, or the Remington family again. Most of all, knowing she’d never see Trace, the man she’d fallen head over heels for even though he was her boss and the last person on earth she should’ve let herself love.

  She hardly noticed the mud or the biting drops of rain as the sky opened up and the storm dumped on her.

  Lily didn’t see the sense in prolonging her painful and humiliating exit from the Remington. Instead of waiting for the storm to pass, she packed her bags and brought them to the front door.

  She didn’t want to bother the Remingtons any more than she already had by asking one of them for a ride. Instead, she made up her mind to rig her own transportation to the ferry crossing.

  Where was Mabel McGill’s giant tricycle when she needed it?

  “Sorry, kiddos,” she said to the ducks. “But I need your pool for my luggage.” She dragged it onto the front porch, then went back inside for one last look.

  She was going to miss her little cottage. Somewhere along the winding island road to her new life, the quaint cottage had become her home.

  She knelt down in front of the larger habitat Ben and Trace had built a couple of weeks before to accommodate the growing ducks. “Promise you’ll take care of Ben for me?”

  They quacked and squawked, which brought a smile to her lips that didn’t reflect her bone-deep sadness.

  Fifteen minutes later, she had her luggage loaded into the toddler swimming pool and the pool secured to the back of the bicycle through a hole she’d punched in the pool’s plastic side. She zipped her jacket and put the hood up to shield her from the rain.

  No one was out and about at the resort because of the storm, so when she pedaled down the long drive and through the exit, dragging a plastic pool behind her, no one stopped her.

  By the time she reached the ferry terminal, she was soaked.

  “One ticket, please,” she said as she stood in front of the scratched acrylic window.

  Mabel McGill leaned forward to eye Lily’s expensive French luggage. Which didn’t look at all expensive anymore. The shape it was in said it’d been circling the globe since the day she disembarked from the ferry and asked to borrow a giant tricycle.

  “Could you call the Remington after I’m gone and tell them the bicycle and pool are here? They belong to them.”

  Mabel lifted a penciled brow. “One-way ticket, then?”

  “Um, yes.” Lily handed her a few bills.

  “You’re just in time, hon. We’re about to shut down the ferry because of the storm.” She handed Lily a ticket. “Sorry it didn’t work out. Those Remington men are heartbreakers.”

  Was it so obvious that Lily’s heart was ripped in two?

  She shook her head. “The Remingtons were great. This one’s on me.” She slung her alligator purse over a shoulder. “Thanks, Mabel. Take care.”

  Without a backward glance, Lily drew on every ounce of courage she could find and rolled her tattered luggage up the ramp to go . . . home.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  LILY’S LIFE LESSON #23

  Never chase a man unless he’s driving an ice cream truck.

  Trace found Ben in the family den. He and Spence sat at the table, disinfecting a cut on Ben’s hand he must’ve gotten during the chaotic mess at the cove.

  “How’s it going?” Trace ruffled Ben’s hair.

  Ben’s lips puckered, and a crocodile tear slid down his cheek. “Did I get Lily in trouble?”

  Trace drew in a breath, and he and Spence exchanged a look.

  “I’m unhappy with both of you. Lily shouldn’t have taken you to the cove without me, and you know better than to go past the boathouse. You ran into water way over your head.”

  “I can swim,” he said bluntly.

  Trace nodded. “Yes, but it’ll take a few more summers of swimming lessons for you to swim well enough to go into deep water like you did. What if no one had been there to help you?”

  Spence was still working on Ben’s hand, and he stilled. His stare was vacant like he wasn’t really seeing.

  “You can’t put yourself in danger like that again, Ben.” The whole thing had almost cost Trace more than he could bear. “It’s not fair to the rest of us. Imagine how sad we’d be if something happened to you.”

  “Like how sad I’d be if I’d let something happen to Waddles?”

  Well, hell. For once, Trace hadn’t put himself in his son’s shoes. In Ben’s eight-year-old mind, something bad happening to one of his ducks was horrifying.

  “Yes. Only it would be much worse.” Trace rubbed his jaw. “Promise me you won’t do it again.”

  Ben nodded and sniffed. “I promise.”

  Spence finished putting a Band-Aid on Ben’s hand. “Okay, little man.” The paleness of his face mirrored his grim tone. “You’re all set.” He stood.

  “Ben, you owe Uncle Spence an apology. It was very . . . difficult for him to have to be at the cove.” Trace stumbled over his words, not knowing how much he could say before Spence lost his shit. “And then to have to go into the water to save Waddles was . . . a lot to ask.”

  “Sorry, Uncle Spence,” Ben said.

  Spence gave him a sad smile. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

  “Can you find Dad for me?” Trace asked with a knowing look. “We’ve got things to discuss.”

  Spence nodded, gave him the signal for Let me know if you need me, and left.

  When they were alone, Trace pulled his chair closer to Ben. “Son, I’d really like to know what you were thinking. What would make you take a risk like that?”

  Ben swiped at his nose with the back of his hand and sniffled. “I needed to find a bigger place for the ducks to swim because they’ve gotten so big and soon they’ll be big enough to survive on their own, but Waddles still has a limp and his wing still isn’t right so I thought maybe if they had more room he could heal in time to fly away with the other ducks.” It all tumbled out at once.

  Trace held up a finger. “I thought you were trying to stop Waddles from leaving.”

  “No.” Ben’s tone said he had a perfectly sound reason for his thinking, which Trace hadn’t latched on to yet. “I didn’t want Waddles t
o leave today. Not until all the ducks can fly away together. When I was doing research for my project on how to let the ducks go, I found out Waddles might have to stay here with us forever if his leg and wing don’t heal.” He paused just long enough to take a breath. “Wouldn’t it be sad if he couldn’t live with his family?” Ben’s eyes glistened again. “Like if I had to leave you and everybody else to go live in Los Angeles. It would be horrible, so I asked Lily to help me.”

  Ah, shit. Trace had been hard on Lily about the cove. The adrenaline rush from Ben rushing into deep water had still been pounding in his veins. But he knew his son better than anyone, and Ben could be a handful. He might’ve gone to find a swimming spot for the ducks even if Lily hadn’t agreed to go. Trace could see that now that he wasn’t crazy with fear.

  Even if she’d lied about everything else, thank God she’d been with him.

  “So you’re planning for the ducks to leave?” Trace asked, because all along he’d thought Ben would be upset over letting them go.

  “Of course, Dad,” Ben said with an eye roll in his voice. “It’s part of my project. They’ll be happier in the wild because it’s where they belong.” He rubbed one thigh. “Like I’m happier here than in Los Angeles because this is where I belong. Can I go apologize to Lily now?”

  Trace pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why don’t you go to the kitchen and see if Charley has a doughnut for you. I’ll walk you to Lily’s after I talk to Grandpa.” Because Trace and Ben both owed Lily an apology for what had happened at the cove, if nothing else.

  Ben hopped off the chair. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  Trace squeezed his son tight. “Just promise me it won’t happen again, and we’re good.”

  “Promise,” Ben said, and skipped away.

  As he reached the door, Trace’s dad came in holding a file. He tweaked Ben’s nose. “You okay, pard’ner?”

  “I’m going to get a doughnut.” He kept on skipping toward the kitchen.

  Trace’s dad chuckled and took a seat at the table. “I just heard what happened.” His expression turned solemn. Worried.

  Trace did not want to tell his father about Lily. Because of the fantastic job she’d done at the resort, he practically believed she could walk across the water that separated the island from the mainland without getting more than the soles of her shoes wet.

  “Dad.” Trace didn’t know where to begin. So he started with her name. “Does the name Scarlett Devereaux mean anything to you?”

  His dad thrummed his fingers against the table. “As a matter of fact, it does. Lily listed her as a reference.”

  Trace leaned forward. There was no way to put it delicately, so he decided to blurt out the truth. “Lily is Scarlett Devereaux. She lied to you. To me. To all of us. She pretended to be someone she’s not, and apparently, her father has a lot of enemies. The press has been after her. If they find out she worked here, Megan might even be able to use it. I just don’t know.” He drew in a breath to deliver the last of the story. The worst of it that would likely be a blow to his dad. “She targeted the Remington because we didn’t do a background check.” Trace hesitated. “I let her go. She’ll be leaving the island as soon as the storm blows over.”

  His dad went silent, nothing but his finger-thrumming filling the room.

  “Say something,” Trace insisted.

  Finally, his dad leveled a stare at him. “What makes you think I didn’t do a background check on Lily?”

  Trace stared at his dad. Cleared his throat but couldn’t speak.

  He had nothing.

  “You know the story about how I met your mother,” his dad said.

  By heart. Trace waited because he had no idea where his dad was going with this.

  “What I never told you boys is your mother lied on her résumé to get me to hire her.”

  Trace got up and paced across the room.

  “She couldn’t get a high-caliber restaurant to hire her, even though she was the best chef on the West Coast at the time. No one would give her a second glance except greasy-spoon restaurants who paid minimum wage.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Trace asked, pacing back to the table.

  “Because you never needed to hear it until now.” His dad shrugged. “When I ran a background check on your mother . . . because I do run background checks . . . I found out she didn’t have the formal culinary education she’d listed on her résumé.” He chuckled, staring at the floor like he was reminiscing. “What she did have was grit, and I liked that. It’s what this place needed. It’s what I needed. So I didn’t tell her I knew the truth. Instead, I gave her a second interview in the kitchen. A second chance to prove herself. I let her cook for me.”

  “There’s a big difference between Mom lying about culinary school and Lily—” Or whatever the hell her name was. “And someone lying about her name . . .” Trace threw his hands up. “Lying about her entire history. Hell, Dad. I don’t even know who I’m in lo—” He bit off the last words. He was not in love with Lily Barns or Scarlett Devereaux.

  Except that he was.

  His dad smiled. “Desperate situations make us do desperate things.” His dad told him everything he’d found out about Lily and what she’d been through because of her father. When his dad got to the death threats, Trace’s protective instincts surged.

  Lily had grit all right. She’d left her home, left her family, and came to a strange place alone. Had to have been scary. But she’d poured everything she had into the resort, opened herself up to Trace and his son and the rest of the Remington yahoos.

  And Trace had fired her for it.

  He knew exactly who he was in love with, and her name didn’t matter. Yes, she should’ve told him everything, but he’d seen who she really was in the rest of her actions. The way she’d loved Ben. The way she’d loved Trace.

  His dad’s expression was solemn. “Our biggest strengths are often our biggest weaknesses. If Lily had it to do over again, she might make different choices. I know your mother would’ve so she could’ve seen you boys grow up.” His dad gave him a thoughtful look. “You know, you’re a lot like your mom. Nothing was more important to her than being a parent.”

  Trace’s throat grew thick.

  “She went out in the boat that day to spend quality time with your little brothers while you and I were away for the weekend.”

  And Trace had held it against her ever since, thinking it had been thoughtless and selfish of her to put herself at risk with no one home to come to her rescue. Trace had obviously been the selfish one, moping over the fact that he’d felt the obligation to take on her parenting role once she was gone.

  Grief had swallowed him because he’d missed her, missed growing up with a mother, and didn’t know how to deal with the private pain he knew his brothers carried inside. So it had been easier to blame Mom for dying instead of being thankful for the years they’d had a mother who’d loved them so wholeheartedly.

  Trace blew out a breath. “If you had it to do over again, would you make different choices?”

  His dad didn’t hesitate. He shook his head with confidence. “Nope. I’d hire your mom, I’d fall in love with her, and I’d marry her because even though she died far too young, my life was still so much better having had her in it.”

  That made Trace stop breathing for a second as he tried to picture his life without Lily. Because he couldn’t picture a life without her.

  “So you followed your heart and took the same chance on Lily that you’d taken with Mom.”

  His dad nodded. “Your mom’s grit is what this place has been missing since she’s been gone. I figured Lily could bring it back.”

  Trace rubbed his eyes. If he’d expected honesty from Lily, he needed to do a little fessing up himself. He’d made his share of mistakes as a parent. Lily had never been a parent, yet she’d outshined just about everyone he knew when it came to bonding with Ben. Giving her another chance hadn’t entered Trace’s mind at the cove, but s
he deserved one.

  He, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure he deserved one.

  “Having her at the resort could blow back on us and hurt my custody case.” Trace was thinking out loud because there was no one he trusted more for advice than his father. “But she’s important to me, and she’s important to Ben. What kind of person would I be”—what kind of example would he set for his son?—“if I’m not willing to fight for someone we care about?” Someone he loved.

  “We’ll deal with it like we always do,” his dad said.

  Yes, each of the Remingtons had been through hell, but they’d always had each other to lean on.

  Instead of being there for Lily, Trace had let her down as much as everyone else in her life.

  He shot toward the door. “Gotta go. Thanks, Dad,” he said over a shoulder. He widened his stride to reach the kitchen. He and Ben had to beat it to Lily’s cottage because they both had some apologizing to do.

  He blew through the kitchen door to find Ben gobbling up a doughnut.

  Charley had the landline handset to her ear. “Trace is right here.” She shoved the phone in his chest. “It’s Mabel McGill.”

  He refused to grab the handset. “I don’t have time.”

  Charley covered the receiver. “It’s about Lily.”

  Trace wrinkled his forehead and took the phone. “Ms. McGill?”

  “Yes, hon.” Her scratchy voice came through the line. “Lily wanted me to let you know you can pick up your bicycle and swimming pool at the terminal.”

  WTH? This had to be a bad dream. “I don’t understand.”

  Her laugh was interrupted by a smoky cough. “She rode a bicycle here and dragged her luggage in the pool.”

  Trace’s heart raced like the howling wind brought on by the storm. “Lily was at the ferry crossing?”

  “Yes, dear, but she’s gone now. She caught the last ferry before we shut it down. So you can come get the bike and pool.” Ms. McGill didn’t seem to think it was the least bit strange. “She said they belong to you. Although, the pool isn’t in the greatest shape.”