He needed a cold shower, or better still, a dip in the ocean. He was up off the couch in a flash. In his bedroom, he changed into trunks before zipping into his wetsuit. On the back patio, he grabbed his surfboard and made his way across the beach to the water…and dived in.
While Kit worked the constant stream of customers coming in and out of the coffee shop, Jake took care of the flow in the bookstore. Waiting on customers, helping them find the books they were looking for might seem like a completely different world than his, but over the last few days he’d found that it wasn’t that dissimilar to selling software. The product was different, but you still had to make a sale.
He had just made his tenth sale of the morning when he decided to take advantage of the lull in traffic to surf the Internet once again for Ben Griffin. As he waited for his laptop to boot up, he decided he might as well check his e-mails once he was logged in.
After waiting for startup he logged into his account and found fourteen messages in the inbox, all work-related, but one message with the subject titled “Claire’s Murder” had his pulse beating faster. The sender read Anonymous.
Who was messing with him now? He wondered as he automatically scanned the e-mail for viruses. When it came up clean, against his better judgment, he opened the message―and seethed. Pulled in by the content, he almost didn’t hear Kit’s footsteps on the hardwood floor as she came into the bookstore.
He quickly closed out of the program and turned off his laptop just in time for Kit to wrap her arms around his shoulders. He felt like hitting something. Instead he took comfort in Kit’s body.
Sucking in a breath, he vowed to get his mind off the e-mail, at least for now. But nothing could take his mind off the message. And why anyone would be sending it now, two years after the fact? That was just wrong. As he held Kit, his mind ticked off a quick mental list of people who might be toying with him.
Top of the list, of course, was Max St. John, the lead detective in Claire’s murder investigation. Next was Collin Boyd. But considering the content, it wouldn’t be Collin. He wasn’t that clever. That left St. John, which made even less sense.
As he contemplated his next move, Kit wanted to know, “There’s a lull in traffic. Why don’t we lock the place up and head up to my office upstairs? Whaddaya say we finally christen the top of that desk?”
He tried to get into a playful mood but fell far short. “Lock up the Book & Bean in the middle of the day? That might be asking for more gossip than you could handle.”
He didn’t fool Kit, nor did his demeanor. “What’s wrong, Jake? The day you aren’t interested in christening my desktop upstairs, something’s wrong. Did you find Ben?”
He shook his head. “Look, it’s just a work-related problem. I’m not ready to talk about it.” That was partly true.
She eyed him doubtfully. After knowing him for so long, she didn’t buy his performance. He was hiding something. He’d been on the computer when she’d rounded the corner; if it wasn’t about Ben, then what was it? “Why is it, that I don’t believe you? But this is one of those times you don’t want to tell me because you think I might worry, isn’t it?”
He grinned in spite of himself. “You know me pretty well.”
“Like a book. Okay, for now I’ll let it go. You can keep your secrets to yourself. But don’t think you can freeze me out just to keep me from worrying. We’re a team now. You can’t hold back everything, just like you can’t be with me every second of every day. It’s impossible. But because I’m madly in love with you, you get a pass―for now.” She kissed him soundly on the mouth. “But just one. Maybe when you get your head out of your ass, I’ll be around to christen that desk upstairs.”
Baylee was at the stove scrambling eggs as the smell of bacon wafted through the air when she turned and saw Dylan standing in the doorway fresh from his shower. She knew he’d left earlier to go surfing. “How was the water?”
“Great.” He bent down to Sarah’s eye level as she sat quietly in her swing, gumming a yellow plastic ring. “Way to sleep through the night there, Gidget. Your mama needed the sleep.” To Baylee he said, “Breakfast smells good.”
“I thought you might be hungry. And I wanted to thank you for last night when you talked me through my meltdown. You’ve been great since I’ve been here.” Baylee set on the table a large platter filled with pancakes that had been warming in the oven. “Dig in.”
He was just about to when an incredibly tall, gorgeous blonde appeared on the deck, waving through the open back door to get his attention. She wore a wetsuit zipped down to the waist, showing off a red hot bikini top that revealed ample breasts. She carried a surfboard. “Hi Dylan! I thought you might have time for a ride.” The invitation was no more subtle than the bikini.
What the hell was Angie doing here?
Dylan moved with the speed of a wide receiver toward the blonde standing on the deck. As he passed by Sarah’s swing, an idea formed. In one fluid motion, he scooped Sarah up to his shoulder, talking as he went. “How’s my girl this morning? Whatddya say we go see what Angie wants?”
The movement startled the baby so much her teething ring went flying. Dylan didn’t notice, didn’t stop to retrieve the baby’s toy. His main objective was to get rid of Angie as fast as he could. “Hi Ange, how’s it going? Thanks for the invite, but I’ve already been in the water this morning. Would you like to meet Sarah and Baylee?”
“Sarah and Baylee? Sure.” But Angie didn’t look like she was sure. She looked downright crestfallen. But she leaned her board on the side of the house and stepped through the back door and into the kitchen with a wariness that spoke volumes.
Dylan jostled the baby like a proud father showing her off for the first time. “This is Sarah, my daughter.”
“Daughter?” Angie took a step back in retreat. “But she’s a baby.”
From the kitchen table, five feet away, Baylee could see the woman doing the math in her head. Oh, this was priceless. Baylee crossed her arms and watched the major player test out his infinite charm. His performance made her want to grab the popcorn. How did he plan to talk his way out of this one?
“Yep, five months old, almost six really, she’s gorgeous, isn’t she? Looks just like her mother, too. And this is Baylee, Sarah’s mom.” He left it to Angie to figure out the semantics.
Angie didn’t know it, but she had Baylee’s sympathy―for about ninety seconds. It occurred to Baylee that these two were both equally involved in the same game she’d walked away from more than two years earlier. She wouldn’t go back to those days for anyone, not even for Surfer Boy.
To Angie’s credit, she made a fast exit.
When Dylan turned from the doorway, though, Baylee stood there with her arms outstretched to take Sarah. She walked back over to the swing where she adjusted the baby into the seat.
Then she quietly turned and let Dylan have it, never raising her voice an octave. “First, you joke about using my daughter as a chick magnet, then you blatantly use her as chick repellant. What kind of a person does that?” And the memory of the kiss they’d shared less than twelve hours earlier had her adding, “I’m not a player here, Dylan. I can’t afford to be.”
She picked up Sarah’s teething ring from where it had landed on the floor and went over to the sink to rinse it off under the tap. Then she calmly walked over and handed it back to the baby, flipping on the switch on the swing that sent a Barney song lilting into the room.
Dylan’s temper spiked. “What’s that supposed to mean? I got rid of her, didn’t I? I didn’t invite her over here. She dropped by unannounced.”
“And she’s never done that before.”
“Well. Yeah. But things have changed.”
“Oh, I can see that. Let’s not forget Melissa, the one you blew off last night.”
“Melissa does not…matter. Hell. I’m single, unattached. I don’t need…”
“No, you don’t, but if I remember correctly, that’s the way the game’s
played: a lot of them just don’t matter. It’s better that way. Although admittedly, I am a little rusty, I still remember the game. Your personal life is none of my business, Dylan, until it concerns my daughter. Sarah is not part of the game, nor a pawn to be used in yours.”
He sighed, and ran his hands through his wet hair. “Angie and I went out—a couple of times months ago. She’s a flight attendant for US Air who lives in Tempe and merely stops by from time to time whenever she’s visiting her mom and dad who live across the street. Melissa is,” he sucked in a breath, “a friend I see on occasion when the mood suits both of us.” He glanced at Sarah before leaning into Baylee to whisper the rest.
But Baylee held up her hand for him to stop. “I get it, Dylan. I’m not that rusty. You don’t have to spell it out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what, doing what thousands of other unattached, single people do in this town? I’m not passing judgment, Dylan. It’s just that for me that life is long gone. You’re obviously still on the roster. Do me a favor though. As long as I’m living here, do not kiss me again the way you did last night. Now enjoy your breakfast.” With that she walked back to the swing, hauled her daughter out of it, and headed outside leaving him listening to the strains of a tune that sounded a great deal like, “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.”
After choking down the breakfast Baylee had fixed, and not because it didn’t taste good, but rather because it was difficult to eat crow when you were just flat wrong, Dylan cleaned up the kitchen. He’d done some thinking during the meal and realized he had a phone call to make. Melissa deserved to know things had changed. Since they had never really been in a relationship, he thought he could get by with explaining things to her over the phone.
Baylee and Sarah hadn’t gone far. They’d taken a walk along the beach. She had to admit she liked being this close to the ocean. The waves calmed her and made her think. She wasn’t really upset about Melissa or Angie or any of the others she was sure were part of Dylan’s life.
A couple of heated kisses between the two of them didn’t give her squatters’ rights into the man’s love life. It wasn’t Dylan she was upset with anyway, but rather, herself.
How had her life become such a mess, a mess that had her living a lie? She needed to do something about it, get her act together, and start thinking about the future, the long-term of what to do. She needed to get her jewelry business up and going and not as a hobby either, but rather earning real income.
She had dozens of designs she’d created just waiting for launch. Quinn and Kit had been wearing her creations since high school. There had been plenty of interest in her designs before that charity event, before Connor Boyd had entered her orderly life. She’d sold off a lot of her inventory, but since Sarah’s birth, she hadn’t worked on her designs much. There had been too much chaos, too much moving around, too much instability for her to concentrate on creating earrings or necklaces.
But no more. She needed to get her ass in gear and design a website or something to get back that portion of her life, if for no other reason than to tell herself that not even Connor Boyd could take that away from her.
And she needed to think about a permanent place to live, stop all this upheaval. If Gloria, didn’t already have plans for the house Kit rented in San Madrid, maybe she could move in there. She dug in her pocket and pulled out her cell phone, dialed Gloria’s number. “Hey Gloria it’s Baylee.”
“Baylee-girl, How are you doing? How’s that baby? Kit told me what happened with Connor. I’m so sorry, honey. I guess the Boyds are all the same—evil to the core.”
“Sarah’s fine,” she said quickly, not willing to get into the whole Connor thing. “Actually, I had a reason for calling. I wanted to know what your plans were for the rental house you have in San Madrid once Kit and Jake move into Crandall House.”
“You’re thinking it would suit you and Sarah.”
“Exactly. I need to think about a permanent place to live, Gloria.”
“You don’t mind that the house has only two bedrooms? And the second bedroom on the middle floor is tiny. And what about all those stairs? Those three levels will get old real quick with the laundry room on the ground floor. That’s a lot of running up and down stairs with the baby.”
“I’ve thought of all that. I’d put Sarah’s crib in with me in the larger bedroom on the third floor so I wouldn’t have to go up and down the stairs in the middle of the night. Look, Gloria, I really need a place to live, one I can call my own.”
“I don’t mean to discourage you, honey. I just want to make sure you understand the house has drawbacks for a woman with a baby. As cute as it is, the house isn’t perfect. When I lived there I hated climbing all those stairs. That’s one of the reasons I moved out. But if that’s what you want, honey, the house is yours whenever Kit moves out.”
“Thanks, Gloria. That’s one big weight off my shoulders. Now, I just have to kick-start my jewelry business.”
“You could go back to doing a booth at the farmer’s market on weekends. That worked well before Sarah came along.”
“It did. But I was thinking about something a little more substantive, like maybe a website, doing Internet sales. If I got it going I could have my own business at home.”
“That would work. Aren’t you staying at Dylan’s? You know, he might work on the website for you.”
“I couldn’t ask him to do that. It’s awkward here, Gloria. His house is like a beacon for women coming and going, calling at all hours. I’m intruding on his life, like a fifth wheel.”
“Really? Then you’ll want out of there as soon as possible.”
“That’s why I’m working on it now.” She paused, thinking about the information Kit had been forced to tell her. “How are you doing, Gloria? I know about Ben Griffin. I think it’s terrible what those two women did to you.” And what Connor might do if he found out about Sarah.
“I’m so angry at them, Baylee. They ruined my life. They took my two babies away from me and robbed me of being a mother. I’ve been so upset about it I had to increase my blood pressure medication. I didn’t sleep a wink last night. And finding out John knew, that he knew all along, just breaks my heart.”
“I know Gloria. It’s a betrayal of the worse kind. That’s what Kit thinks too. I’m so sorry. But it isn’t too late. You have Kit, and Jake’s doing everything he can to find Ben. It’s just a matter of time before you have both of them together.”
Gloria started to cry. Baylee felt bad. How could the people Gloria had trusted, the man she loved and her own sister, have been so mean to her?
It was then Baylee realized what she’d known for years.
Having family didn’t have to come through blood.
CHAPTER 11 Book 2
When she got back to the house, Dylan was waiting on the deck with a hang-dog look, hands in the pockets of his olive green shorts. He met her at the railing prepared to do a little groveling. “I owe you an apology.”
The walk had cleared her head. Baylee shook her head and grinned up at him. “You don’t owe me anything. Your sex life is none of my business.”
“I’m sorry I used Sarah for chick repellant.”
“More like Angie repellant.”
“It worked didn’t it?”
“More effective than Raid.”
He laughed, bumped her shoulder on purpose, and offered, “Whaddaya say we hop in the car, go get the stuff you need to put your hair back to its original color? Then we bring it back here and get the job done. I’ll help.”
“Really? We don’t have to make a trip to the store. I already have everything we need.” She gave him a dubious stare. “You really know how to work with hair?”
He gave his head a very feminine shake, fluffing his hair back off his shoulders with exaggerated gestures. “Hey, how do you think I keep these tresses the envy of every woman within a fifty-mile radius? Leave it to me, darling. Your hair will look fab-u-lous.”
“
You’re so full of yourself; you know that, Surfer Boy.”
Dylan ignored the slam, concentrated instead on Baylee’s brown dye job. “How blonde are you? Now that I look at it, this brown stuff just doesn’t look natural. Are we talking Marilyn Monroe platinum or maybe Debbie Harry gold?”
“Kit’s the silver platinum with all that gorgeous straight hair. Kit’s is so straight I’ve envied every strand on her head my entire life. My hair’s more golden in color, more like Sarah’s, and curly, very curly.”
Dylan reached out and touched Sarah’s topknot. The baby was still mostly bald but there were a few wisps of light hair on the top of her head. “I can work with this.”
Baylee giggled. She actually giggled. “You are such a ham. But I think between the two of us, we’ll manage to find the right shade.”
Later, while Sarah napped, with the kitchen smelling of hair colorant and bleach, with Baylee’s head covered in pieces of aluminum foil wrappers, the two of them waited at the kitchen table for the timer to ding.
Dylan looked over at her and smiled. He couldn’t help himself. He had no idea why this woman appealed to him so much―just that she did. Maybe because she didn’t seem to have a pretentious bone in her body. Here she was with her head covered in spiky sheets of tin foil and yet she acted so natural about it. What other woman would let a man see her like this without freaking out?
She was just so different than any of the other women he’d known. Maybe for the first time in a long time, he was attracted to something other than the outside, the surface stuff, to something genuine within. He knew one thing. He adored watching her with Sarah. He couldn’t discount the fact that she was such a good mother. Her kind and gentle spirit also played a factor in how he felt. Okay, so the woman was hot as hell to look at, even now with her hair wrapped in tin foil.
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