by Lush, Tamara
Yeah, that was the other thing I wanted to do. Needed to do.
Before I went away, I had to tell Jessica how much she meant to me, how much I'd loved her back then and still did today. It was the least I could do for her. I wanted her to know how sorry I was for disappearing when we were teens, and how I hoped she'd someday find love again. Because, more than anything, I wanted her to find happiness.
If only I could be the one to give her a good life.
Chapter 18
Frosted Vanilla Yum
JESSICA
”Auntie Jess, can I make my own sand sculpture?"
"Grace, you sit right here where I can see you. Here's a bucket, a shovel, and..." I handed my niece a small plastic rake as the words died in my mouth.
Leo was walking toward us on the sand.
My heart began to race. How had he known I'd be here? Why was I so breathless? Why did he look so sinfully hot?
Today, thankfully, Leo was wearing a shirt—an old, thin gray T-shirt and blue surf shorts, which did nothing to hide his muscular body. Brawny, burly, beefy—he looked like a soldier coming to defend the shores of Palmira.
Or to capture my heart. Again.
He hauled a tackle box in one hand and a bucket filled with tools in the other. A collapsible cooler was slung over his shoulder. Grinning, he walked closer. I could hear the blood rush in my ears and felt a little dizzy.
I hated how I couldn't get the previous night's potent kisses out of my mind. Goosebumps formed on my arms, and I shivered, recalling how his fingers had felt on my face, my neck, lower. Thank God we'd been interrupted by that phone call, because I could have easily ended up in bed with him. Which was where the fantasy probably would have ended.
Every time I thought about sex with him, I also thought about my condition. Would I be able to relax enough to actually have sex ever again?
Illogically, his suggestion to "take things slow" nagged at me. I knew it was ridiculous, but I couldn't help feeling rejected. I'd all but thrown myself at him, and he'd backed off. Why? He certainly hadn't been slow when we were younger.
Leo stopped in front of us, and I looked up and frowned. But his gorgeous smile made a grin burst through. I couldn't help myself. He was too handsome and obviously happy to see me. The urge was strong to reach out and stroke the muscles in his legs.
He grinned back. "Hi, Jess. Who's this?"
I adjusted my sunglasses, making sure they were firmly on the bridge of my nose so he wouldn't notice how I was checking him out. "This is my niece, Grace. She's Nicole's daughter. Grace is with me for the morning because it's a school holiday."
Grace stopped digging in the sand with her shovel and squinted up at Leo. "Is he a friend of yours, Auntie Jess?"
I cleared my throat. "Ah. Yes. This is Leo. He is a friend."
Leo laughed. "A friend? Hmm. That’s a start."
He walked to his sand station and stripped off his shirt, treating me—again—to the sight of his rippling back muscles. How I wanted to run my hands over his skin, massage him with suntan lotion and... I exhaled, stopping myself from going down that fantasy path. Where did it end exactly?
Had he been annoyed last night at how I'd insisted on handling the guest's problem myself? That'd be silly. If he was the kind of guy who wanted to insert his male "expertise" into my career, he'd have to change his attitude. The last thing I wanted was a man like Nicole's husband.
Thoughts of my sister invaded my mind. Doing everything myself at the hotel was essential. I didn't want Nicole to think I was relying on anyone else. There wasn't much time left to prove we should keep the hotel.
Crouching on all fours, I sprayed the sand in front of me with water so it would be more pliable, then patted and shaped it into what would hopefully, eventually, look like an oasis of palm trees. Nearby, Grace worked on her own small sandcastle.
After several minutes, I'd worked up a bit of a sweat and rested on my heels. I looked over at Leo, thankful I'd worn my darkest sunglasses today. Maybe he wouldn't notice I was staring in his direction, and I pretended to angle my head to search for something in the water—like my dignity, which was drowning in a sea of lust.
He gripped a full-sized shovel in his hands and scooped heavy sand into a box frame. His biceps bulged, and a sheen of sweat covered his chest. Oh, and he had that V at his hips—the sexy, sculpted lines that started at his chiseled lower abs and ended at…well, the exact place I wanted to see again.
"Auntie Jess, can I have a snack?"
Grace's voice jarred me away from gawking at Leo, and I gasped at how X-rated my thoughts had turned within moments of being in his presence. Swallowing hard, I turned to the wagon we'd used to haul everything to the beach.
As I pawed in my bag for some baby carrots, a figure blocked the sun and cast a shadow. "Can I give Grace a cookie I made? I have some chocolate chip ones."
"Well..." Had Nicole given me instructions on what not to feed Grace? The list always seemed to change.
"Chocolate! Yes!" The girl scrambled up and followed Leo a few feet to his sand pile. I'd really have to have a talk with her about taking sweets from strangers.
Warily, I watched as Leo withdrew a giant chocolate cookie from his bag with fanfare and a funny, goofy smile. It was gooey from the sun. Grace laughed and plopped down on the sand to eat it. Leo sat next to her, and I watched as they talked. Leo motioned with his hand at his sand pile, maybe explaining what he was carving.
He looked over at me, all teasing eyes and sexy grin, and I felt a shimmer of need run through my body. It made me want to lie down on the sand and gather myself until I could properly function again.
"Do you want a cookie, little girl?" he called.
I couldn't help but smile. "No, I'm fine."
I rose and walked over to Leo and Grace, then sat near them on a towel. While Grace devoured her confection, Leo handed me a pink frosted cookie shaped like a heart and flashed me a pleading look.
"Please? Try my cookie?"
He pushed out his bottom lip in a pout, and I remembered how I'd lightly bitten that lip the night before. I was hungry, but not for a damn cookie.
"It's in the shape of a heart," Grace chortled, then stared at Leo. "It's not Valentine's Day yet."
My fingers touched Leo's when I accepted the cookie, but instead of acknowledging the sparks between us, I turned the cookie over, staring at it. Then I bit off a dainty portion. It melted in my mouth with its sweet vanilla flavor.
"Certain people get heart-shaped cookies any time of the year," Leo said to Grace in a serious voice. "Even if it's not Valentine's Day."
Oh God. He is laying it on thick. Pressing my fingers to my lips as I chewed, I stifled a laugh and rolled my eyes a little.
Thankfully, I didn't have to make small talk with Leo because Grace prattled on about her role in her ballet recital, which was the following day. Leo asked her questions about dancing and school, and I was surprised he seemed so good with kids.
There seemed to be so much I didn't know about him.
A realization suddenly slammed into me. If I'd actually been pregnant all those years ago, we'd have a child almost the exact age as Grace.
"Going to grab a water," I mumbled, scrambling up and going to the cooler, devouring the rest of the cookie along the way. Having Leo's baby back when we were teenagers would have been a disaster. Hell, I didn't want a baby now. I was still too young. But the memory of the intensity I'd felt when I thought I'd made another life with him remained, and it called to me.
Yelled, actually.
What would it hurt to get to know him? To take it slow, like he suggested.
I was searching in my bag for water when I heard footsteps crunching on the sand. Even before I looked up, I knew it was my sister from the smell of floral perfume.
"Hey," I said, turning. "We're feeding your daughter lots of sugar. You can thank me at bedtime."
"Who is that?" Nicole hissed under her breath, lowering her sunglasses for
a better look. "You're letting my daughter talk to some strange, shirtless man? But damn. He does look good without a shirt, whoever he is. Look at that six-pack."
I rose to standing and took Nicole's elbow and dragged her a few feet away.
"You're not going to believe this, but that's Leo."
"Leo? Who? Why are we whispering?"
I scowled and shushed her. "Put your sunglasses back on. That's Leo from five years ago. Remember?"
Nicole took her sunglasses off entirely, then cut a skeptical glance toward Leo over my shoulder. "The guy from New Orleans?"
I nodded.
Nicole widened her eyes. "What's he doing here?"
"He bought The Daily Bread. He's opening the new bakery. Don't stare. Jesus."
My sister's lip curled a little in disapproval. "Jessica, that's really weird. Why would he come here? Did you call him?"
I shook my head. "No! What? I didn't call him. How would I have known his number? Jesus. He was in Afghanistan with the Marines. He was wounded. Look at his arm. See the scars?"
"I see tattoos... Oh yeah. Wow. He's scarred."
"His family's chain of bakeries is expanding into Florida. That's why he's here." I added a few more details, but tried to pack in all the highlights quickly so Leo wouldn't notice Nicole was giving me the third degree.
"Where's his dad? Do you remember his father?" Nicole asked, straightening her posture.
"His dad's back in New Orleans."
Nicole narrowed her eyes and snorted. "I don't know if I like this. Leo broke your heart. I remember the way he looked at you that vacation. I remember all the drama when you thought you were pregnant. God, what a crisis."
I glared at her, as if to say, not now.
"Are you hoping to hook-up again? If you are, I suggest you wear something other than jean shorts and a stupid T-shirt with a cat on the front. And yeah, I'm talking about a condom, too.”
"Whatever!" I looked down at my Bermuda-length shorts and pink Hello Kitty tee. Nicole never missed an opportunity to critique my outfits. I'd thought I looked cute this morning. It was only the beach, for God's sake. Nicole could be so bitchy sometimes.
Leo and Grace looked toward us, and Grace ran over and hugged Nicole. "Mommy! Leo gave me a cookie."
Nicole glowered at Leo, who followed Grace and introduced himself.
"You must be Nicole. I don't know if you remember me. I'm Leo Villeneuve."
I watched my sister size Leo up with her eyes. "Yeah. I remember when you and your father stayed at the hotel. Jessica couldn't stop talking about you for months afterward."
Leo smiled tightly and nodded in my direction. Of course he seemed uneasy. Nicole was acting snarky, and her voice was frosty. But then he turned and shot me a serious, smoldering look, as if I were frosted with vanilla and on a platter. I noticed my sister's gaze travel down Leo's chest, and a little smile crept onto Nicole's lips before her eyes went steely again.
My sister definitely appreciated hot guys, even if she'd only ever been with her husband, Daniel. The two of us had that in common, even if usually our appreciation was confined to things like watching Magic Mike XXL at the movie theater during a rare sister-bonding moment. Now, I felt a certain Leo was so stunning and gazing at me with those sexy blue-grey eyes and not my tinier, blonder older sister.
I sighed impatiently. "I need to get back to sculpting. And don't you need to get to the hotel to do...stuff?"
Nicole smirked. "Stuff. Definitely. Yes. The hotel." She shook her head as if to clear it. "Don't forget we have the appraiser coming on the fourteenth to look at the building," she added, bending down to gather Grace's beach toys.
"That's the day of the sand sculpture announcement."
"I know, but that's when he had time. He's Daniel's friend and agreed to do it for half price. I can't be there, so you'll have to tear yourself away from beach to show him around. Sorry."
I almost growled. Nicole wasn't sorry at all. She always treated me like a child, as if I would shirk all responsibility if left to my own devices. Just like Mom, Nicole seemed to be under the impression I couldn't handle the details of life, even if I'd been working hard to keep the hotel running for years—and successfully.
I was more accomplished than many twenty-two-year-olds, that was for sure. I'd also gotten dual degrees and volunteered at community events on the island. Come to think of it, they'd both started treating me like this after the pregnancy scare.
"I won't forget," I snapped. "I'll put it in my calendar on my phone. You don't need to remind me again."
"Oh, and I want us to interview a few real estate agents who might handle the sale," Nicole said breezily.
I gave her a pointed look. Not only was I unsure I wanted to put the hotel on the market so soon, I certainly didn't want to discuss the matter in front of Leo. Why was Nicole so hell-bent on selling the property anyway? Did she just want to erase the memory of Mom?
"We'll talk about this later," I said. "I don't want to bore Leo with the details of the family business."
I looked over and saw he was staring at me, hard.
Why would he care if Nicole and I sold the hotel? It's not like he wants anything permanent.
Chapter 19
Psychic Wounds
LEO
I smoothed and packed the sand down inside the rectangular wood frame with wide, sweeping motions. This would be the base, the support for the sculpture. I'd learned much from the sculptors I'd watched on the Florida Panhandle as a kid.
Every few moments, I checked out Jessica, who was on her knees and fully focused on shaping her sculpture, whatever it was. The sight of her in jean shorts was too distracting. She still hadn't told me what she was building. Her sun-streaked, wavy hair was gathered in a ponytail, and I longed to untie it and work my fingers through it while kissing her.
A powerful mix of adoration and carnal need washed over me. I hadn't stopped thinking about the other night.
But what had her sister meant about an appraisal? And a real estate agent? Was that for their hotel? Jessica hadn't mentioned anything about selling. Was she planning to leave soon? Where was she going?
Dammit, I wanted to know everything about her now, and I didn't have time to find out. What secrets she was keeping? Her mere presence jumbled my emotions and made my mind run in circles. The way she looked at me made my stomach flip and other parts grow hard with desire. And yet, she also inspired insecurity. The guilt over how I'd disappeared from her life when we were teenagers. The fear of what had happened back in New Orleans. And when she'd accused me of wanting to be with that tacky Megan woman at the party...well, that had just made me indignant. The idea that I would turn out like my father. A womanizer.
What would life have been like if Mom hadn't died of cancer when I was five? Growing up, I'd watched as Dad hopped from woman to woman, his life one long string of lovers. Often, I couldn't keep track of who was coming and going from Dad's bed, and by the time I was a teenager, I had such distaste for casual sex, I vowed whatever Adam Villeneuve did, I'd do the opposite.
My thoughts drifted back to the Marine Corps and Afghanistan. Bombs. Dust. Whether or not I could have saved Steve. The salt air of the beach was replaced in my brain by the smell of cigarettes and blood and freshly opened bandages. It was as if I couldn't stop the flood of memories once the spigot was turned on in my brain. How could thoughts spin so fast from a beautiful memory of Jessica to the horror of war? I needed to start taking the antidepressants again, but I hated how the damn pills made me feel. Like a zombie. Dead inside.
"Hey, Leo? You okay?"
I opened my eyes and stared upward. Jessica was standing over me. Her voice was soft.
She wore a concerned look, and her ponytail had blown over her shoulder. She dropped to the sand in front of me and reached out. Her fingertips landed on my knee, and I nearly shrank back from her, afraid of her touch because it was so pleasurable.
Breathe.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean t
o interrupt. I was wondering if you had a butter knife or something I could use for detail. I left mine back home."
I mustered a smile. "I was just meditating. Thinking. Listening to the waves."
"You looked like you were in pain."
I shrugged. "Sometimes I can't help but think about Afghanistan. It sometimes pops into my mind. The military counselor said it would—that it was part of the PTSD."
Jessica drew in a breath. "You have PTSD?"
I nodded. "Yeah. You've heard of it?"
"I saw a TV program on it once, about Iraq war veterans."
Could I trust her enough to be honest about the workings of my dark and tortured mind? She seemed open to talking. Maybe I could ease into the subject. But should I?
She'd know soon enough, of course. When I turned myself in for what had happened in New Orleans. Hell, I'd probably make the national news.
"Yeah. I sometimes have nightmares. And a little anxiety. But it's no big deal."
Jessica removed her fingers from my leg, and I wanted to plead with her to touch me again. Her voice was even.
"Are you on some kind of medication for it?"
"Nah. I was, but it didn't work for me. I had a therapist back in New Orleans." I pushed out a breath, unable to look her in the eye. "He said I also have something called moral injury." There. That wasn't all that bad. It made me sound just a little wounded, not broken. Manly, not a mess.
"I'm...sorry. What's that?"
I sighed. "My therapist describes it as 'bearing witness to horrible things that transgress deeply held moral beliefs.'" I held up my hands and made quote marks, as if I didn't quite believe it myself. Maybe I didn't. I wasn't sure. "Basically, it's how I came to grips with everything I saw during the war—or how I haven't. Things that don't really mesh with my values."
Shit. She looked so serious. I knew this was a lot to unload on her, but I didn't expect her to fix me with a quick smile or a patriotic platitude. She was surely smart enough to know you didn't just recover overnight from something terrible.