by T. A. Foster
I don’t think he intended to lock me out of the house. It was best if I sat and drank my beer anyway. I waited for Grey to return.
The sun sank on the other side of the ocean, leaving the beach cast in shadows. Grey had been on the phone for half an hour. I walked to the door, hoping he would let me in. He was inside pacing from the kitchen to the living room and then back to the kitchen. I couldn’t make out full sentences, but his voice was raised, his cheeks red, and his eyebrows high on his forehead. None of this was good.
He saw me at the door and crossed the room to let me in. He held up a finger. “You better bring proof. You’re not stepping one foot on the Palm’s land until I see some kind of evidence.” Grey paused. “Really? I will fight you for it.” He ended the call and tossed the phone on the floor.
“What’s happening?” I ran my hand along his arm, trying to calm him.
“The asshole claims he is Pops’s son.” He looked at me, his eyes filled with pain. “He says Pops had an affair twenty-eight years ago and kept him a secret from everyone.”
My hand flew to my mouth. “Oh my God. Are you serious?” The way Grey talked about Pops was as if the man was a saint. The most perfect of grandfathers. This news was a grenade going off in our furniture-less living room.
Grey sank to the floor. “It can’t be true. He has to have some kind of angle. He wants to sell the Palm to a developer for $2.5 million. For that kind of money, people will say and do anything.” I wasn’t sure Grey believed the story was fabricated. He looked devastated.
How do you handle the news that the man who raised you had an affair and a secret child? If it was true, it wasn’t something Grey would accept easily.
He rose from the carpet, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and headed to the deck. “I’m going to take a walk.” He closed the door behind him and left me on the floor. I watched as he disappeared down the staircase.
If he wanted me to go with him, he didn’t pause or ask. This was one of those moody Grey times I knew I had to leave him alone, even though it was killing me to do it.
I wasn’t sure what time it was when I drifted to sleep. Grey climbed into bed, and I felt him lift the book from my chest and turn off the light. His arm wrapped around my waist, and he pulled me against his chest. He smelled like the beach, salty and warm. If he wanted to talk, he would. Instead, we fell asleep matching our breaths.
The next morning, the sunlight smacked me in the face. I rolled to the side, reaching for Grey. Last night was a sleepy blur. The covers next to me were flat. He was already gone.
I padded down the hall to the bathroom. The rest of the house was quiet. He must have left for work early this morning. I hoped he wasn’t trying to track down Mason. An encounter between those two would be ugly.
Our last guests were checking out this morning. We didn’t have any upcoming reservations on the books for two weeks. I dried my hair, dabbed on a bit of makeup, grabbed a cup of coffee, and walked to the Palm office.
My morning ritual always included cranking up the air conditioner in the window. I usually turned it off at night as a way to save a few pennies on the electric bill. I waited for the cool air to blow through the stuffy room. I turned on the lamp and my laptop.
Grey didn’t leave a note or send a text this morning. I was still a novice at this space thing. I pulled out my phone.
“Hey, good morning.” I tried to sound cheery.
“Hey. I’m working on the shingles today and getting ready to climb the roof. What’s going on?”
I stared at the phone. I got that things were tense for him, but he didn’t have to be so snappy.
“I was just calling to say hi. I didn’t get to say goodnight or good morning.”
“Yeah, well I’ll see you later. We do live together.”
Again, with the rude talk. I felt my blood pressure rising the longer I stayed on the phone.
“Sorry I bothered you. Have a good day.” I hung up before I said something I really regretted, like “you’re a moody asshole sometimes.” Although, that would have felt good to get off my chest.
An older couple walked through the door, holding one of the large brass palm tree key tags.
“We’re all packed up.” The white-haired gentleman handed me the key.
“How was your stay at the Palm Palace?” I plastered a smile on my face. They didn’t need to know I was in the midst of a relationship crisis with the motel’s owner.
The woman, who must have dyed her red hair with an over-the-counter bottle, grinned. “It was fine, but you know it would be nice if there were some amenities.”
“Were you missing something in your room?”
The husband rolled his eyes at the wife as if to say I can’t believe you brought this up.
She continued. “Personally, I don’t stay anywhere that doesn’t have wifi. I didn’t read the details about this place very carefully.”
Wifi was one of the things I had talked to Grey about saving up for. It had become a staple of traveling for most guests. “Is there anything else?” I asked.
The woman shrugged. “It’d be nice to have a cup of coffee or something. The rooms don’t even have those one-cup coffee pots.” She sighed. “Our other snowbird friends stayed at the resorts or camped at the other end of the island, but I guess you get what you pay for.” She turned to leave.
“Excuse me, what do you mean by snowbirds?”
She pointed to her husband’s head of white hair. “You know that’s what they call us seniors. We drive down south for the fall and winter trying to escape the snow for a while.”
“You said you have friends here?”
“We do. Some of them go to Florida or Arizona. Depends on what they’re in the mood for each year. We’re looking for some place we can call a second home. We want a regular spot every year when we need to get out of Michigan.”
The wheels started turning in my head. This couple and all their senior friends were looking for a winter hangout at the beach. My marketing plan just shifted gears. I had the wrong approach all along.
“Thank you for staying at the Palm Palace. If I could promise you wifi, coffee, and a free night on your next trip to South Padre would you make another reservation?”
Grey had turned over the business part to me, so I made an executive decision about the free night. I’d have to work on the wifi before they came back.
She smiled at her husband and nodded. “I think we would do that. It does have the prettiest part of the beach, and we love the small pool.” She held up a bag of shells. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this kind of shell luck before.”
I had never thought of myself as a sales person, but it seemed urgent that I get them to pinpoint a date on the calendar. “What dates would work for you? I’ll set you up in the closest oceanfront room, and I’ll mark down the free night right now.” I waited while they talked it over. I flipped to room twenty-three’s page just to make sure the availability was wide open.
The woman shook her head. “We’d like to come back, but we need to check with our daughter first. Our grandchildren have a fall festival and we never miss it. Let me get the dates and I’ll call you.”
I tried to keep the smile on my face, but I knew I had lost their return reservation.
“Sounds good. We can’t wait to see you again.” I waved as they walked out the door.
I slumped in the chair. I was a terrible sales person.
“Pretty girl like you shouldn’t look so unhappy.” Mason strolled into the office.
My mood shifted from bad to worse.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here.” I thought about calling Grey, but he was somewhere on top of a roof right now. He wasn’t going to take my call.
I noticed Mason had shaved his scruffy jawline, and his eyes looked even brighter and bluer than yesterday. I turned my attention to the spreadsheet I had pulled up on my screen, trying to ignore that he had made himself at home in front of the desk.
; “So, Eden. What’s your real position here?”
I didn’t like the way he said it, and I was having a hard time ignoring the sexy tone in his voice.
“I don’t know what you mean. You’ve seen my business card.” I eyed him. Could this guy, who was practically the same age as Grey, be his uncle? It was completely surreal.
Mason surveyed the room. “I seriously doubt you are getting paid to run the desk here. Girl like you has to have something else invested.”
“Are you asking about my personal relationship with Grey?” It didn’t seem like it was any of his damn business if Grey and I were a couple.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m asking.” He smiled warmly.
I hesitated. I remembered what Grey said last night about Mason having an angle. I wish I knew what it was. Right now, the only thing he seemed interested in was making sure I knew he was flirting with me.
“Come on, Eden. What’s your story?” He winked.
The truth was bound to come out. It wasn’t like Grey and I kept our relationship a secret. I couldn’t think of a way he could use it against Grey, and I needed him to stop the flirting.
“We’re together.”
He chuckled. “I thought so. You’d have to be in love to stay in a dump like this.”
“It’s not a dump.” I had always been defensive about the Palm.
“Sweetheart, have you seen the place? I know love is blind, but that’s pure crazy.”
“I love the Palm. And, yes, I’ve seen it. I’ve stayed in it. I hosted one of the biggest island parties here. It has history. It has charm. It—” My voice was rising and I knew my cheeks were turning red. Mason had me fired up.
“It what?” He seemed to enjoy challenging me.
I leaned against the desk. “It belongs to Grey.” My enthusiasm became a little too animated and I tipped my coffee over, spilling the beverage all over the desk and the reservation book.
I scrambled to pick up my laptop before the liquid spread under it.
“Let me help you.” Mason tried to shake out the reservation book.
What was it with me and coffee drinks? I held the laptop up and watched with horror as the coffee dripped from the corner. It had seeped farther along the desk than I realized.
“Can you grab some towels in the back supply closet?” I nodded in the direction of the shelves. I didn’t want to risk moving the laptop before I could sop up some of the coffee.
He jogged to the back and returned with an armful of towels. “Do you think this is enough?”
If ten towels couldn’t soak up one cup of coffee, we had the wrong kind of towels in stock.
I nodded as he started the task of wiping up the spill.
“Can you get the bottom of the computer first?” I held it forward.
Mason wedged himself between the desk and me, giving him a better angle to clean my most prized office possession.
I could smell his cologne over the vanilla creamer I used. I was acutely aware he was in my space, but I focused on the cleanup process.
“I have to admit this is a first.” He laughed.
“What’s that?” I watched as he ran a clean towel over the keyboard. It didn’t appear any of the keys were wet.
“A girl spilling something just to get out of a conversation.” He winked then turned his attention to the drip that had started running down my thigh. He patted my knee, and then worked up toward the hem of my shorts.
Before I could tell him I could handle that part of the spill, the door opened and in walked Grey. I looked up and recognized the look on his face. I saw the same one the night of the luau when he thought I was still dating Brett. Shit.
I wiggled two steps back as fast as I could, as if suddenly Mason was holding matches trying to light me on fire.
“What in the hell is going on?” Grey demanded.
“I spilled my coffee.” I raised the computer. “But the computer is fine.” I looked for a place I could set it safely.
“That’s not what I meant.”
The office suddenly seemed small with the two broad-shouldered men standing side by side. Seeing them next to each other, the family resemblance was uncanny.
“You must be Grey, my nephew.” Mason extended his hand. “Uncle Mason.”
The absurdity level had just risen to an all-time high. They should be cousins or brothers.
Grey’s eyes squinted, and I thought he would punch Mason on the spot. “I told you not to step foot on this property.” He reached for his phone. “I’m calling the police and having you removed.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Mason laid the wet towels on the desk and held up his hands in innocence. “You told me you wanted proof. I brought proof that I’m your uncle. Don’t you want to see it?”
I wanted to see it, but I knew this wasn’t the time to pipe in. I held my breath, waiting for Grey to respond in some way other than using his fists.
“What do you have?” He stepped away from Mason, and I finally exhaled.
Mason reached into his back pocket, withdrew a manila envelope, and shoved it into Grey’s hands.
“Call me after you’ve had a chance to look at it.” He walked out of the office.
Grey stared at the envelope and I studied his face. What in the hell was in there?
I wasn’t sure if the humming from the air conditioner or my heartbeat was louder. Grey stood staring at the envelope Mason had deposited in his palm. I wished he would just tear the damn thing open, but instead, he stood like a statue.
“I’m going to get some air.” He turned to walk away.
“No.” I dodged from behind the desk. “Can’t we open it together? Maybe I can help you with whatever is in that thing.” I couldn’t take my eyes off it.
Grey’s piercing eyes hardened. “Like letting that asshole paw all over you.”
My hands shot to my hips. “Don’t turn this around on me. I spilled my coffee. I was in the middle of telling him to get out of the office when I knocked my cup over, and then he just started helping me.”
Grey didn’t look convinced. “I saw where his hands were, Eden.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. It wasn’t like I asked him to do that.” I was close to slapping him across the face. “I didn’t invite him here. He showed up.”
“Like he did yesterday.” Grey almost spit the words out.
“Are you implying something?” I had always heard jealousy was an ugly green-headed monster¸ but this was ridiculous.
“No, not at all, darlin’.” He smile was crooked. “It’s just obvious he has a thing for you.”
“Thing for me? What’s that supposed to mean?” I tried to flip through my conversation with Mason. Had I indicated in any way that I was interested in him? I wasn’t going to deny the man was good-looking and flirty, but that wasn’t my fault. “I told him you and I are together. There is no way he got the wrong idea.”
Grey shook his head before sliding into the empty seat Mason had occupied. “And you think that would stop a guy like that?”
Oh my God. Did Grey actually think I would give Mason Lachlan my time or attention? I kneeled beside him. My anger melted, remembering how I felt when I saw Grey having drinks with Laura. I had felt betrayed and hurt. If he was feeling half of that, I had to do something.
“Grey, I would never even consider someone else. You and me. We’re together. I just moved all the way from North Carolina to live with you. You think I would throw that away?”
The envelope was still mangled in his fist. “No, I’m not worried about you. It’s him. He thinks he can swoop in here and steal the Palm, and if he’s got the hots for you, what’s going to stop him from trying to make a move?”
“It takes two people, and this girl is not interested in that guy. Ok?” I tilted his chin forward, looking for a smile, any sign that I had reassured him.
“I saw how he looked at you.” His voice softened.
I had seen it too, but I was done letting Mason come betwe
en us. “It doesn’t mean anything. I am with you.”
He handed me the envelope. “You open it.”
I didn’t know what to expect. I searched Grey’s eyes. I slid my finger between the flap and the seal. I pulled out a folded piece of paper along with a few photographs. I opened the paper.
“It’s a birth certificate.” I read the names in the blocks. “It says his father was Mitchell Lachlan and his mother was Lorraine Hanish.” There was a seal from the state of Texas at the bottom. I gave it to Grey to read.
“What else?” He prodded me.
We both knew the certificate could have been altered or the paternal name falsely identified. In my hand was a stack of pictures. There was a little boy blowing out candles on his third birthday cake. One of the same boy opening Christmas presents. As he got older, the pictures became clearer. His high school graduation. College graduation. There was no mistaking Mason was the boy aging over the decades. Although, I didn’t know who the man and woman were flanked on either side of him in each snapshot. I placed them in Grey’s palm.
“This is Pops.” He pointed to the man in the picture. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath, but it was loud enough for me to hear it. He flipped through the pictures, his speed increasing as Mason got older.
I waited for his reaction.
“How could Pops keep this from me?” He shook his head. “And not just me, my dad, my grandmother. I thought I knew him. He had another life? Another family? I don’t understand how he could have done this.”
I wish I had an answer that would make sense of this mess, but I was still trying to wrap my head around everything. I took his face between my palms.
“I will help you get through this. We will figure it out together. Just don’t shut me out, please. Don’t let it ruin us.”
He dropped the contents of the package on the floor as his hands tangled in my hair, his lips crashing into mine. His tongue twirled inside my mouth, and the center of my world began to tilt as his mouth moved harder and faster against my lips. I didn’t know if this was the beginning of makeup sex, or if he was going to break away any second and claim he had work to do. So, I held on for dear life, moaning at each flick of his tongue, my hands roaming his chest, reaching to his back. If I could hold him closer, he would know he was the only one for me. Mason Lachlan wasn’t in my head. I felt the electric charge tingling deep in my core and fire through my veins. If he broke this off now, I would scream.