by Toni Blake
Because you never like girls too much. You always keep a pretty firm control over that.
But maybe Riley was right. Maybe it was time to try building some new, better memories. Maybe.
Still, it shocked him to hear the next words that came unexpectedly out of his mouth a few minutes later as they left their towels to go get some drinks at the snack shack by the pier. “You have any plans tonight?” he heard himself ask.
“No. Why?”
“Don’t know if you’d be interested, but . . . Mutiny on the Bounty’s on cable and Riley and I are gonna order a pizza from Gino’s and watch at my place. If you’d want to join us.”
Nope, he definitely hadn’t planned that. And maybe it wouldn’t even be her kind of thing. A simple night of pizza and a movie on TV. And with an old man she didn’t know, too.
So it made him happier than he could easily understand when she smiled and said, “A date with you, Riley, and Clark Gable? How can I resist?”
TAMRA sat on a bench by the pier, staring out over the water, her heart beating too fast. She’d been doing a lot of serious thinking lately, and a lot of deciding that maybe Fletcher was right. She was thirty-four years old. And while she was satisfied in some ways, maybe in others she was letting life pass her by, too content to be a spectator rather than someone who’s out there really going for the whole enchilada of things.
“Most of the things we really want in life,” Fletcher had told her just yesterday, “lie just on the other side of our fears.”
And so this morning she’d gathered her courage and called Reece and asked if he wanted to go for a walk on the beach with her. They did that from time to time—it was nothing unusual—but this time, for her, it was different. This time, she was going to let him know how she felt. About him. She was going to face that fear. Come what may.
“Hey.”
She flinched, lost in her own thoughts and more than a little startled to look up and see that he was here, already, and this was it. She’d met him for walks dozens of times, but this, now, suddenly felt downright surreal. Planning to do something brave and then actually managing to do it were two different things, and this had been a lot easier when it had lain in the future.
“Hey,” she said, forcing a smile. And then taking in his. He had such a great smile. It kind of turned her inside out.
“Ready to walk?” he asked.
She nodded, got to her feet. Then looked around for the thing that was missing. “No Fifi again?”
“I left her in charge of the front desk today.” He winked. And it melted her.
And as they began to head down toward the water, both of them barefoot and carrying their shoes, Reece said, “So what’s up? You sounded . . . kind of intense on the phone last night. Anything I should know about?”
Oh crap. She’d sounded intense? This wasn’t the opening she’d hoped for. Things were supposed to be relaxed, mellow, easy. It was supposed to come out naturally—somehow. That was how she’d envisioned it anyway. She hadn’t planned out a worst case scenario—because Fletcher had advised against that. “Planning out a worst case scenario is just inviting it to happen. Expect it to go the way you want,” he’d said. But already, it wasn’t going that way.
So she said, “No, not really—just felt like taking a walk, catching up. What’s new with you?”
“A lot, actually.”
Huh. That was new. Reece was such a carefree guy that questions like that usually met with a shrug and, “Same old, same old,” or something pithy like, “Fifi got a clean bill of health at the vet’s and she’s in the mood to party.” So she said, “Really?”
He replied with a nod. “It’s about Cami,” he told her.
And Tamra bit her lower lip and looked at the horizon stretched out ahead of them without really seeing it, praying her emotions didn’t show as her stomach plummeted. Already, she knew. In her heart. She was too late; she’d waited too long. “Oh?” she said. But it came out stiffer, her voice higher, than intended.
And Reece stopped for a second and gave her a funny look before they walked on. “You don’t seem to like her. How come?”
She pulled in a breath, let it back out. “I’d think it’s obvious. She’s trying to wheedle the Crab from you. Isn’t that enough?”
“I see where you’re coming from,” he said, “and I appreciate your concern, but . . . the thing is, there’s something between us, her and me.”
“Something?” she asked quickly. Her chest contracted, aching more with each step they took.
“Something like . . . romance, I guess. Even though that’s not a word I usually get into using. But I don’t know what else to call it. And it feels . . . real. Realer than anything I guess I’ve let myself feel in a long time.”
Another deep breath—in, out. Just keep breathing. Get through this. Even if he just shattered your heart into a million pieces.
“Sooo . . . you’re not saying, ‘That’s great, Reece—I’m really happy for you!’ ” He glanced in her direction again. “You really hate her that bad?”
Breathe. Just breathe. She wished she were anywhere else in the world now, wished she could run away from this conversation. “Hate is a strong word,” she managed, trying her very best to sound reasonable, “but I just . . . worry for you. I mean . . . of all the women to fall for, Reece—this one?”
“I know it seems weird,” he said. “I know it didn’t come about in the normal way.”
She forged ahead with her next thought. “I hate to say this but what if . . . what if she’s just using you to try to get the Happy Crab?”
He answered with a shake of his head. “I worried about that, too, at first, but I don’t think that’s what’s going on. Mostly, talk about the Crab and things between us have been completely separate. And she mentions trying to get me to sell less and less.
“God knows I never expected this to happen. And I’m still not a hundred percent sure of how I feel, but . . . I just like being around her. A lot.” He laughed. “I mean, I can’t even explain how good and kind of . . . filled up I feel just hanging out with her, arguing, or talking about nothing, or not even talking at all.
“I don’t know where it’ll go—maybe nowhere, maybe somewhere. But for now, it’s . . . good.”
“Well,” she said softly, having taken all that in, “I’m . . . happy for you.” And although it was hard to say that without letting a certain amount of sorrow leak through, she meant it. His happiness mattered to her. And in that strange moment, she realized exactly how profoundly she cared for him—enough that she truly wanted him to be happy even if it was with someone else, even if she could never have what she wanted with him, even if she would always be on the outside looking in, wondering what that felt like and wishing she could know. Oh God, how did I deny my feelings for so long? And why? Her chest felt like it was caving in now as she said, “I truly mean that.”
“Thanks, Tam,” he said, and then he reached out to squeeze her hand in his. As the innocent touch moved all through her, her heart broke a little more.
“Just . . . promise me you’ll be careful, Reece,” she insisted then. “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt. Or lose something you value.” The way I just lost my heart.
AS Cami drove back toward the Happy Crab after a short shopping expedition, new purchase in the passenger seat next to her, she thought back over the previous night and subsequent morning.
After Mutiny on the Bounty ended, Riley had kindly excused himself, claiming sleepiness, though she’d seen a glint in his eye that made her think he just wanted to give them privacy. And privacy was nice, because it had been mere moments after his departure that she and Reece started making out on the vintage sofa they’d sat on to watch the movie.
As he’d lain her down on the nubby fabric, she followed the instinct to say, “Um, should we be doing this here?”
“Here?” he’d asked with raised eyebrows, looking more than a little surprised that she might be the one putting on the brakes now.
Even though that wasn’t what she’d been doing at all. “On this couch,” she explained. “It’s in such good shape. How does a couch that I’m guessing is at least fifty or sixty years old even look this good?”
His warmth pressed against hers as he let out a light laugh. “Guess they don’t make ’em like they used to. Or maybe it’s because this one belonged to my uncle Barry. He never got married, or dated much that I know of, so I’m guessing it didn’t see this kinda action much.” He ended with a cute, sexy wink that made her feel fluttery inside.
“Well,” she said, “I don’t want to be the one to mess it up after all this time, so . . . why don’t we take this back to your waterbed?”
“My waterbed can take whatever you want to dish out, baby,” he teased some more.
And his waterbed had indeed taken it. And like the previous night, it had been unbelievably intense. There was something about the connection between them when he was inside her, when they were looking into each other’s eyes, that stole her breath in a way no other sex ever had. Her whole body seemed to vibrate with the invisible way it fused them together. Or fused her to him anyway. She had no idea if he was experiencing such fusing with her—or maybe all his sex was this way. A thought that had made her sad, so she’d pushed it away as soon as it had come.
This morning, when she’d awoken, he was still beside her—no empty pillow, no note about walking on the beach. And after indulging in a hot morning quickie, he’d made them scrambled eggs and toast.
Across the little Formica table from him, she’d asked if she could use his washer and dryer—even with the shopping she’d done since her arrival, she needed to do some laundry. So he’d shown her the laundry room, which she could tell served the whole motel, and it had felt oddly intimate for him to see her dirty undies and bras—even if he’d taken a couple of them off her himself now.
“Want me to call Juanita, have her come clean your room this morning?” he asked as they worked on the laundry.
Some fresh sheets would have been nice, so she was about to say yes—when she remembered her furry roommate. “Um, if you can just give me some sheets, I’m happy to change them myself.”
He’d drawn back slightly, the move implying that her virtuousness was throwing him. Little did he know it wasn’t virtuousness at all. “I don’t mind calling her,” he said.
But Cami shook her head—and realized she should probably go soon. Because she did indeed have a kitty to check on. Hot sex fogged her brain a little—but now she was remembering she had certain things to take care of. So as she pulled the last couple of items from the dryer, dropping them into a laundry basket Reece had loaned her, she shook her head. “I’m fine with doing it myself—honest. And I’d better head to my room anyway—email to check, things to keep up with at the office.”
And when he raised one eyebrow, looking suspicious, she added coyly, “Yours isn’t the only property I’m in charge of convincing someone to sell, you know.”
“Well, Tink,” he said, “I hope you do a better job with everybody else than you’ve done with me,” and they both laughed lightly.
How strange that it had actually become a joke between them now. Even though she still needed to acquire the Happy Crab. In some way or another.
Since leaving him, she’d fed Tiger Lily and put out fresh water, and she’d changed the sheets and added newly washed sea green towels to the bathroom. After that, she’d searched online to find a nearby pet store out on Route 19, the big, busy road further inland that ran parallel to the beach and the beach towns that lined this area of the Florida Gulf Coast.
Now pulling into the Happy Crab’s lot after her trip out, she grabbed up the bag from the store and went into her room, happy to see the cat again. She wasn’t quite sure when she’d officially become a cat person, but when it hit her what she’d just done—what she’d just bought, for heaven’s sake—she knew that a serious change had come over her.
She said to Tiger Lily, “Look what I got for you,” and withdrew from the bag a pretty lavender collar and matching leash, as well as a little heart-shaped silver tag that said “Tiger Lily” in a pretty script. “No one will mistake you for a boy now,” she added with a succinct nod.
Reece had told her he had plans to help Fletcher do some work at his house this afternoon, so she knew it was safe to take the cat out for a walk. Which was good, since she’d decided the cat was probably tired of being cooped up in such a small space. She realized there were plenty of indoor cats in the world, but knowing Tiger Lily had been living outside until just a few days ago, she felt compelled to offer the cat an excursion.
Good-natured as she was, Tiger Lily calmly allowed Cami to put the new collar on her. She smiled down at the kitty afterward, saying, “The tag looks like a little necklace on you. Very stylish.” Indeed, the orange cat appeared infinitely more feminine now, and as Cami had hoped, the lavender was a good color against her fur.
Then it hit her that if a homeless cat didn’t mind wearing a collar . . . maybe that meant she’d had a collar before. And a home. Which made Cami feel even more protective of her, and happy to perhaps be returning her to some of the things to which she’d once been accustomed.
Clicking the leash in place, she said, “All right, let’s take you for a walk, young lady cat.”
Of course, she knew good and well that she should probably be doing exactly what she’d told Reece she would be—working. But her heart just wasn’t in it these days. Which was strange—since her heart had always been in it up to now. One more way in which she barely recognized herself.
Was it really possible . . . that her heart was no longer in taking the Happy Crab from Reece, even if she truly thought it best for the community? The place had so much odd, quirky charm. It was such a throwback to a simpler time that she’d never really experienced herself and had only seen in pictures, on old beach postcards.
And would a big resort, right here, on this spot, change that charm too much? Now that she was examining it from this particular angle, the truth was . . . maybe.
The resorts up the road—they fit. They were like islands unto themselves—they’d been built on previously empty stretches of marshland no one had ever developed before and little else sat around them. But would a lavish Windchime Resort really increase the appeal of the Hungry Fisherman? The Beachside Bakery? Gino’s Pizza? Would there be a quaint sunwashed dock out back where the pelicans hung out and boat owners could rent a slip? She had avoided facing this, but . . . the more she got to know the area, the more she had to question the wisdom of putting a high-rise here.
And yet, at the same time, another fact remained: This part of town simply couldn’t survive as it was. It was dying. And why let it die when a brand new hotel could bring it back to life? Wouldn’t a new sort of Coral Cove be better than a dead Coral Cove?
It took a slight bit of coaxing with the leash to get the cat out the door, but after a moment she followed, and as they set out up the walkway that lined the motel, Tiger Lily began to get more comfortable and trot out ahead of Cami at a nice, easy pace.
“Great day in the mornin’! Do my eyes deceive me or is that cat wearin’ a purple collar?”
Cami glanced up to see Polly in her usual rust-colored dress heading toward her across the parking lot. She looked more aghast than Cami could have imagined.
“Guess what?” Cami said. “This cat is not a boy. So I’ve renamed her Tiger Lily. And I’m doing what I can to help her regain her femininity.”
“Huh,” Polly said, appearing even more surprised as she met up with them on the blacktop. “Well, I’ll be.” Then she shook her head. “But I still don’t know why you’d walk a cat on a purple leash. Or walk a cat at all. That’s really more of a dog thing.”
“Is it?” Cami tilted her head to ask. She didn’t know, not having any background in pet ownership. “They had cat leashes, so I bought one. And . . . I’ve decided I can keep her with me at least until I go back to Atlant
a. After that . . . I don’t know.” She didn’t even really want to think about that, in fact. So she’d just decided not to, for now. “But for as long as I’m here, she’s out of your hair and in mine.”
“That’s music to my restaurant-operatin’ ears,” Polly said, seeming relieved.
Cami smiled. “Well, we’re off to take a walk on the beach.”
Though Polly still looked like she found the concept odd. “You’ll likely be the only cat-walker there. Can’t say I’ve ever seen a cat bein’ walked on the beach before, not in all my years.”
And as Cami and Tiger Lily proceeded across the street and onto the sand, Cami thought: What kind of place considers it more normal to walk a giant iguana on a leash than a cat? The unique little town of Coral Cove, that was where.
THE next day found Cami by the pool, Reece in the chair next to her, both of them soaking up the sun, listening to music echoing from speakers mounted on the back wall of the motel. “When there are more guests, I have colored umbrellas and tables I put out,” he told her, “so it looks a lot more . . . fun then.”
She glanced over at him, a little surprised, a little touched, that he seemed to care about her knowing that, that he took pride in how she perceived his business, even under the weird circumstances. “I can see where that would add a lot. But it’s nice enough as is,” she assured him, which was true. It was a simple rectangular pool that had clearly been here a while, but a few palm trees lined the perimeter on one side, and the dock and boats on another made it feel . . . not fancy—but pleasant in an old-time Florida way.
A few minutes later, they both waded down the steps and into the water, rippling with light beneath the sun. Ah, so cool on her hot skin, and a sensual sigh left her as she leaned back to float with her face toward the clear blue sky.
What felt even better on her skin, though, was when Reece ran his sure hands up her outstretched legs. She lowered her feet to the bottom of the pool and stood upright in the water, moving into his loose embrace for a kiss as heated as the air around them.
“What is it with you and water?” she asked on a laugh, her arms resting around his shoulders.