With You: A Queensbay Small Town Romance (The Queensbay Series Book 5)

by Drea Stein

  “What about Alfie?” Tory asked.

  “Found his way home,” Colby said. “Actually, I think he took a room at the hotel, so he’s probably tucked in and watching the golf channel.”

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  “Because when you left, it looked like you might want to talk to someone. You know, Alfie’s harmless, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “He doesn’t look harmless,” Tory said.

  The moon was full, and it was casting a long, silvery path across the water. Along the bluffs of the harbor, which encircled it like arms giving a hug, the lights on the houses winked and shimmered as people went about the business of living.

  “I think he’s as harmless as he wants to be.”

  “And what about you?” Tory turned to face Colby. His arms twisted around her, so that she found herself back up against the hard surface of the railing.

  “What about me?”

  “Are you harmless?” she whispered as he inched closer to her.

  He still wore only his suit coat, but he felt like fire as he leaned into her. She looked into his eyes. They weren’t twinkling with amusement now; instead, they looked dangerous and full of desire. His lips hovered over hers for an instant in a question.

  Tory didn’t care anymore about what was smart or part of the plan as she reached up to meet him. His lips came down, covering hers. She met him, and they kissed fiercely. She heard a sound, a moan, and knew it came from her. Her heart was racing, and electric currents were shooting all over her body.

  His arms moved to encircle her, pulling her close to him, and she raised her own arms to his shoulders, letting her fingers slide through the silky hair at the nape of his neck.

  They broke apart for a moment, and she felt the need to gulp in great breaths of air.

  “Was that harmless?” he asked, his voice husky, low.

  She swallowed, hesitating just for an instant before she answered. “Harmless, no. Dangerous, yes. Just so you know, I don’t believe in all of this….”

  “All of what?”

  “Moonlight kisses by the shore.”

  “Isn’t it romantic?”

  “I don’t believe in all of that stuff,” she repeated, her breathing heavy as his eyes held hers.

  “How practical,” he answered, and his mouth came down and kissed her again. Dammit, it was the kind of kiss that lifted her off her toes, filled with hunger and heat, fueled by the moonlight and the soft sound of the waves lapping at the boardwalk. She knew she wanted it and wanted him—that if they kept at it, she would give in, that she would invite him up to her apartment and that she would drag him up there, pull his clothes off and that would be the end of it. Colby Reynolds would be one giant distraction if she let him.

  None of this happened. Instead, a gruff voice cracked out in the middle of the night.

  “Tory, is that you?” She froze. For the love of all that was holy, not now, not him.

  “Tory.” The voice was more insistent. “Hey mister, you better get your hands off of her.”

  Colby stiffened and then turned away from her as he stepped back. The kiss, the connection broken. Her whole body was thrumming, and she could have killed someone.

  Jake Owen, all six-foot-four of him, stood there at the edge of the boardwalk, fists bunched and his football player’s muscles at the ready.

  “Is everything ok?” Jake asked Tory, as his eyes zeroed in on Colby.

  She sighed and shivered. Her glass, which she had forgotten about, slipped off the railing of the boardwalk and into the harbor with a soft plop. There will be drunk jellyfish tomorrow, she thought, somewhat hysterically.

  “Jake, I’m fine. This is Colby, my friend. Colby, meet Jake.”

  Colby looked between the two of them and thankfully decided to play it cool.

  “Nice to meet you, Jake.”

  “Yeah,” Jake said. He was still glaring, and Tory knew she was glaring right back at him, wishing him away. But he stood there, like some sort of misguided white knight.

  “I’m fine. Colby and I were just talking.” She felt herself blushing, glad that the dark hid her face. There hadn’t been much talking going on, and Jake knew it.

  “Just wanted to make sure you were ok,” Jake said, somewhat less gruffly.

  Colby smiled. “You know, it’s getting late. I have to get going. Thanks for, ahh … talking, Tory. Your car will be ready soon. I’ll give you a call, and you can come by and pick it up.”

  Tory nodded. Colby had taken a careful step or two away from her as he warily eyed Jake’s bulk.

  “That would be fine. Jake and I went to high school together, sort of. I mean, not the same class but close enough.”

  “Just looking out for her. We’re neighbors, you know.” Jake gave a nod toward the top floor of the Osprey Arms’ annex where their apartments stood next to each other.

  “Of course,” Colby said, as if this was a normal, everyday conversation.

  There was a moment of hesitation, and Jake nodded. “I just have to get something from my truck.”

  The truck wasn’t far away, but Tory was glad for the break. Jake walked away, his steps deliberately loud.

  Colby looked at her. “Anything I should know?”

  “His dad and my dad are friends. My dad’s a little overprotective. But Jake and I … just never, ever, never,” Tory said and added a definitive nod to give emphasis to her words. Colby’s hair was silver in the moonlight, and she wanted to run her hands through it, to feel his broad shoulders under her hands. But there was a bang of metal against metal, a not-so-subtle reminder they had an audience.

  “Good,” Colby said, and he nipped in so quickly that Tory didn’t know what hit her. His kiss was quick but forceful. As he broke away, he whispered to her, “I’ll be seeing you, Tory Somers, and then you can find out just how dangerous I can be.”

  He was gone. She watched as he called out a cheery good night to Jake and slipped behind the wheel of his Cadillac. Tory slumped against the railing, her knees weak, her head spinning. She’d be seeing Colby, she was sure of it— and until she did, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to think about anything else.

  Chapter 21

  Colby had a problem. On the scale of problems to have, he supposed it wasn’t so bad. But, it had already caused him to bang his head on the shower rod and nick his chin while he was shaving. He had nearly forgotten to feed Princess, who looked at him mournfully, tail wagging until he came to his senses, and he had actually lost car keys for all of a minute, which was something that never happened to him.

  And it was all because of her. Her caramel-colored hair, the eyes that looked at him with a combination of wariness and laughter. The way her lips had felt on his, the way her body had arched into his. He hadn’t been thinking when he’d decided to stick around at the Osprey Arms the other night, hadn’t been sure she’d come back, hadn’t even been sure if he would have the courage to say anything to her.

  But it had been the moonlight, the way she had shivered in the chilly air, the way she had looked at him, lust and desire and uncertainty all mixed together as if she thought she might be making a big mistake. And he had wanted to prove to her, Tory with her college degree and her blue chip career and her overprotective mother, that he, Colby Reynolds, a boy who made his living fixing cars and wasn’t afraid to have some grease under his fingernails, was good enough for her. More than good enough for her, that he could, if she let him, rock her world.

  He headed to work, his thoughts still filled with her. He went into the shop first, and saw that Joe was looking over Tory’s Mini Cooper, nodding, considering.

  Colby went over to it. It looked good as new, perfect even. “Nice job,” he said.

  Joe grunted. “Too easy. Anyway, one of the guys will detail it later today, so your friend can come by and pick it up. Tomorrow.”

  Colby nodded. Ok, so he wasn’t going to have to invent some stupid excuse to get Tory in here; he just needed
to be around.

  “Excellent job, my friend, excellent.”

  He walked down the corridor toward his office, feeling lighter, relieved, now that he knew he was going to see her again. In the meantime, he had a full day of work ahead of him, perhaps just enough to distract him from thoughts of Tory. He’d call her himself in a little bit, see when she could come down to the shop.

  He turned the corner into his office and stopped when he saw her. Then he recovered, trying to tell himself that seeing her was a normal, everyday occurrence.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “We have a lunch date.” Eleanor DeWitt was sitting in one of his leather chairs, wearing a dress, her long, pale legs crossed demurely. Her black hair was perfectly blown out, and her green eyes were bright, knowing.

  He walked calmly around to his side of the desk and pulled a folder toward him, blindly, not even knowing what it was about. As long as he looked busy, he decided, he would be fine.

  “That is for,” he said and checked the big calendar on his desk, “next month,” he answered calmly.

  “I told … who was it, Joe? I wouldn’t settle for that. He’s much more accommodating than that girl, Shandy. What happened to her?”

  “Quit,” Colby said. He didn’t need to talk to her, didn’t owe her anything.

  “I need to talk to you, sugar.”

  He sighed and leaned back in his chair. He supposed this was as good a time as any to get it over with. Knowing Eleanor as he did, he knew she wouldn’t let it go. Still, it was worth a try.

  “Eleanor, I sent you money. Wasn’t that enough?” Colby shook his head. Eleanor’s cat-like green eyes were on him, pinning him down, and he had the unnerving feeling that he truly was the mouse in this game.

  “Please, Colby, Bobby’s been dead for six months.” Her voice dripped of sweet ice tea and, in spite of his best efforts to not think about it, brought back memories.

  “I paid off my debt to you,” Colby said firmly. And he had, a long time ago. He owed Eleanor nothing.

  “Bobby Dean left me practically destitute. I need your help, Colby. You owe him and me that much.”

  “It’s not my fault that you’ve burned through all the money Bobby left you,” Colby pointed out. He wasn’t trying to be harsh, but it was true. He had owed a debt to Bobby Dean DeWitt, both financially and, well … spiritually, maybe. Because Bobby had been like a dad to him. But Eleanor had never been like a mother to him and in the end, when he had offered it, she had turned down his help, chosen Bobby over him. It was the bed she had made, and she needed to lie in it.

  Eleanor pulled a pout. “It’s not like that, and you know it. Bobby hardly left anything. He was sick, much sicker than anyone knew. Medical bills mostly, but Bobby refused to stop living large, even after he stopped making money. And you know him, he’d rather stuff the cash under a mattress than trust a bank.”

  Colby said nothing, just inclined his head. Eleanor and Bobby’s marriage had been a true May-December romance, and Eleanor had stuck by him until the very end; he had to give her that.

  “Look, Eleanor, I told you that I paid off my debt to you, so I owe you nothing,” Colby said firmly. Yes, the money to start this business had come from Eleanor. He hadn’t wanted to take it, but in the end practicality had won out over pride.

  Eleanor reached out. Before Colby knew it, her hand was on his arm, her long nails gently digging into the surface of his skin, sending an involuntary shiver up along his back. Ok, so Eleanor still had her bag of tricks, but it didn’t mean he had to buy into it.

  “Eleanor, I am not going to give you more money,” he said firmly and removed his wrist from her grasp.

  “It’s not money I want,” she hissed, her sweetness quickly turning to anger. Once he hadn’t been strong enough to resist her moods, had been eager to appease her, even if it meant doing the wrong thing.

  “I don’t owe you anything, not anymore,” he said and stood up. The meeting was over. He had to make it clear to her that he didn’t need Eleanor in his life.

  “You think you’ll get rid of me that easily?” She stood, too, a quick fluid motion, her black hair cascading down her back. She was almost painfully thin, the dress she wore showing off every bone in her body. He knew that the last few years must have been hard, watching Bobby slowly fade away.

  Eleanor’s accent has thickened, so it was no longer like honey over cornbread. No, it was the gritty, dirty sound that Colby had grown up with—and Eleanor, too. Poor white trash, just trying to make good; it’s what they both were.

  “Eleanor, you can’t manipulate me anymore. I have my own life.”

  It was harsh, but he didn’t know what else to say. He was surprised to hear that his voice was calm, even, that he sounded the way he wanted to, not like the kid he used to be. Anger made his roots show, and he very much wanted to forget all of that.

  Eleanor was in front of him now, one of her talon-like fingers on his chest. He stood there, immobile.

  “Oh, sugar, I think you’ll change your mind.” The Eleanor he knew was back, the voice dripping with promise and love, and he had to close his eyes against the power of it.

  When he opened them, he saw that Eleanor was leaving, but only because Joe was in the door, silent, holding a sheaf of papers for him to look through.

  Eleanor gave a smile and a wave to Joe, who blushed. Then she swept out of the office, expensive perfume hanging in the air. Colby sank back down into his chair, and Joe came in, muttering something about opening a window and clearing the air out as he dropped the papers onto the desk.

  Colby looked down at his clenched fists. He was not the boy he used to be. He did not have to go back to what he had been. He had proved himself a success, hard won and hard fought, and just because Eleanor couldn’t move on, didn’t mean he hadn’t.

  “Have to sign these, or we don’t get parts. Plus the voicemail’s full,” Joe said. His tone was telling. He was done playing receptionist.

  There was a pause. “Your mother’s something else,” Joe said.

  Colby looked up at Joe’s inscrutable face and almost laughed. His mother, Eleanor DeWitt. Yup, she was something else, all right.

  Chapter 22

  He wasn’t surprised, then, when he came into work the next day and she was there, behind the reception desk. It was immaculate, and there were fresh flowers in a crystal vase.

  “Joe let me in,” she said, handing him a folder. “Said you were short-handed, needed some office help.”

  “I….” Colby looked at the folder she had in her hand. It was neatly labeled. Shandy had been a dear but slightly scatterbrained. Her folders had never been neatly labeled.

  He kept walking, not sure what to say. She followed him down the hall, her heels clicking on the floor. “I brought in coffee, too, from that place in town. Smells delicious. Should hold us over until the coffee machine repair gets here later today. Also, Alfie Landau called, said he’d be wiring the payment over today and wants you to start looking for an Alfa Romeo.”

  He walked into his office and threw the folder down on his desk. He remained silent, her words filling up the air behind him. The aroma of coffee was taunting him.

  Looking around, he saw that she had straightened up in here, probably even dusted and watered the silly plant in the corner.

  “Eleanor … Ellie.” He turned and looked at her. She had never let him call her “mom.” Hell, until he was fourteen, he hadn’t even known for sure that she was his mother. She’d told him she was his aunt, who had promised to look out for him. She stood there, and he thought for a moment, just a moment, that she looked scared and vulnerable, a way he’d never seen her.

  “Look, Colby, you don’t need to welcome me with open arms, I get that. I know that our relationship—”

  He had to laugh.

  “—is unique,” she finished, “but I have nowhere else to go, and Joe is going to drive your customers away if you keep letting him answer the phone. So, let me help yo
u, just until you find someone else.”

  The scent of coffee was irresistible. Eleanor was unstoppable.

  “Fine,” he said, the word clipped. But he saw the relief in her face. “It’s minimum wage to start,” he added.

  “Oh, sugar,” she said, “we’ll talk about that later. And don’t worry, you can just call me ‘Ellie’.”

  She breezed out, her perfume lingering. Colby wanted to bang his head on the desk. He had just agreed to hire his mother. What was he thinking?

  Chapter 23

  It was two days later before Tory heard from Colby, but she’d managed not to obsess over him, unless you counted the one unsettling dream—the one that had left her hot and disturbed and slightly embarrassed at the virtual reality she had conjured up. She instead focused on work, throwing herself into meetings and charts and knotty technical problems that took all of her know-how to solve.

  His call came unexpectedly, and she felt a surge of relief and excitement as she listened to the message on her office phone. It was just a message, but Colby’s voice was warm and sexy as he told her the Mini was ready and she could pick it up any time, though tonight they were open late, which would make it convenient if she happened to be available.

  She put the phone down, trying not to think too much about the little flutter of excitement that was dancing around inside of her. It was just that she was pleased to get her Mini back. She loved the Mustang, but she missed the quiet zoom of her Mini. Yes, it was all about the car and had nothing to do with the thought of seeing Colby Reynolds again.

  It was just after six before she was ready to escape. It had been a day of back-to-back meetings, and there was a stiffness in her neck that hadn’t been there this morning, along with the barest hint of a headache. She wanted nothing more than to get out of the office and feel the fresh air on her face. She’d made about a hundred different decisions today, on everything from which laptops to order for the marketing department to whether or not they needed to increase their server capacity. She was sure only about half of them were right. The new job was a challenge, but she was loving it. Lynn had been right. The big girl panties felt good.