He was all kind of stupid. He’d bulldozed her into rescuing his business, and then he almost scared her into changing her mind.
The Jeep’s engine rumbled to life, and Aly stepped into her condo.
The car motored down Aly’s street. He needed to get the business rolling before he thought about rebuilding trust with Aly, getting physical with her. She was fragile, and he couldn’t risk losing her all together by misstepping like he’d nearly done tonight.
He careened onto Riverside Drive, too fast. He jerked back into his lane and slowed. For the hundredth time he regretted offering up his embarrassingly long-lived virginity on Evie’s altar. No doubt, Aly feared he’d hurt her again. He angled into a parking space at the marina.
A lot of guys, maybe most, could enjoy random sex, but he’d been wired for monogamy. After a while, sex with Evie felt empty. And he hadn’t counted on the guilt. Or Evie’s stalking.
The dock gate clanged shut behind him.
Fish stepped off Evie’s boat and moved toward him, head down, hands buried in the pockets of his jeans. He frowned when he saw Cal.
“I’d stay away from Evie unless you’ve got a whole lot of energy to burn on a drama junkie.”
Fish stopped. “I can take care of myself.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Don’t do me any more favors.”
Cal reached a hand toward Fish. “Come on, forgive me. This is ridiculous. I miss you.”
Fish narrowed his eyes. “What part of done don’t you understand?”
“Geez, Fish, lighten up.”
“Bite me.”
“Hard ass.” Cal strode toward the Escape. Even Fish’s grudge-holding couldn’t squash the gratitude for a second chance at the business expanding his chest.
On board he grabbed an art pad, slid into his desk, and sketched a picture of a man looking skyward toward a break in the clouds. Light, picking up dust motes in the air, spilled onto the man’s face, shoulders, and arms that lifted slightly from his sides. A dark shadow slashed from the figure’s rear right pocket up and across his back and down his leg.
He hated taking Aly’s money. It didn’t matter that she’d planned on giving it away. It didn’t matter that sixty-two thousand dollars bought Aly full partnership. He hated needing it so desperately.
He shook off the thought. For the first time since he’d known her, she was unattached. And she’d handed him a second chance. This time he’d win.
Chapter 11
October 30
Do you ever feel like I do, that you just want to go back to blank? No matter what, you can’t get all your mistakes off the canvas. I’ve got like six layers of white paint over my screw-ups; but, folks, it just ain’t the same.
Aly at www.The-Art-Of-My-Life.blogspot.com
Aly’s heels clicked along the dock.
Cal looked up from the rope he was coiling and waved.
She hoisted the Stavro’s Pizza box that warmed her hand. This was a celebration. If Cal did nothing for her but roust her out of that job, he’d done her a favor.
The door banged against the cabin of Zeke’s Ambition as Fish stepped into his cockpit. “Aly! Pizza! Come to papa.”
Aly laughed. “Share with us?”
“Right. Did I mention you’re looking smoking hot tonight? So, why don’t you stop by later. We can, uh, discuss the Wall Street Journal.”
Aly halted mid-stride and narrowed her eyes at Fish. If she didn’t know him better she’d think he just hit on her. “Yeah and you’re just looking smoking. You can read the Wall Street Journal? Who knew? College must be paying off.” She steered things toward their usual sibling-like banter.
Fish gave her his lopsided grin. “Funny.”
Her gaze T-boned into Cal’s locked jaw.
She covered the distance between Fish’s slip and Cal’s. Something was going on here that she wasn’t picking up on.
Fish’s, “Later,” sounded behind her as she handed Cal the pizza and bent to scratch Van Gogh’s ears.
“Hey, fella, welcome your new partner.”
When she looked up, Cal’s face had relaxed. He popped the box open and inhaled. “Heaven.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thanks for signing on. For pizza.”
The touch ricocheted along her nerve endings fizzing in every direction. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Fish looking their way.
She eyed Cal. “What’s going on between you and Fish?”
“He’s pissed because I accidently got him fired from the convenience mart.”
“And?”
Cal shoved the hatch open. “The pizza is getting cold.”
Twenty minutes later, Aly pushed her glasses up on her nose and drew a skull and crossbones next to e-mail Dad about the charter business on her to-do list. She only seemed to be able to walk so far in life without making a lunge for her father. The little girl inside believed she just had to wake up his love for her.
She answered a comment on her blog, then scooted the laptop away on the tiny, built-in desk.
Van Gogh sniffed at her pizza crust, and she fed it to him.
Cal tossed a sketch pad onto the table. “You look studious in glasses.”
“Woke up too late this morning to put in my contacts.” She glanced at the drawing and marveled at how perfectly Cal captured the wrinkle in her brow as she concentrated.
Cal stood. “We need to go over the estimates I got today on repairing the bow.”
She stared at the portrait, wondering how Cal managed to communicate her mood on paper, even her conflicted feelings about her father. A thought floated up from her subconscious. “You need to paint.” Just like she needed to manage, make money, to be fulfilled.
He glanced around the cabin, his brows crinkling. “I’ve painted the entire boat topside, the hull.”
“On canvas.”
“The business has to come first.”
“No. Who you are comes first. What you do comes second. You are an artist. You do chartering. Promise me you’ll paint thirty minutes a day.”
He shook his head. “If I had any idea how bossy, you’d be….” He smiled. “You know I can’t paint just thirty minutes.”
“Exactly. If you get your emotions out on canvas, you’ll be oh-so-much easier to work with. Go.”
“You just want me out of your hair.”
“I need to think. Organize. Plan.”
“Okay already. I’ll be in my studio at Henna’s if you need me.” He bent over to tie his tennis shoe, and his sweatshirt rode up. His jeans slipped low on his hips. He hadn’t gained back the weight he lost in jail.
Aly saw more of the tattoo on his lower back than she’d ever seen—blue and green ink ornately scrolled what might be the top of a heart. The center appeared hollow. Wavy lines, one on each side of the central tattoo, bore similar scrolling. No doubt, Cal had designed the tattoo himself. She’d first noticed it when they were in high school and Cal was teaching her to surf.
“What’s your tattoo?” She said it like she hadn’t wanted to ask him twenty times before.
Cal straightened, turned toward her. He stared at her as though debating within himself. A smirk broke out on his face. His fingers went to the button on his jeans. “You want me to show you?”
“No!” Aly felt her face warm. “You could just tell me.”
Cal scooped his fifty-pound dog and hefted him through the companionway into the cockpit. “If I wanted you to know.” He shot her another grin and disappeared through the hatch.
She rubbed off the gooseflesh Cal had raised on her arms. If only she could get rid of the wanting he’d awakened in her body as easily. He hadn’t even touched her.
If innocence could be packaged and sold by the pound, she’d need a shopping cart full.
He’d been teasing her about dropping his pants, but he wouldn’t have joked about it before she spent the night in his arms. Now, she trembled on a high wire. Being separated completely from Cal had felt more
secure.
He’d always been safe, the one person she could count on to protect her. But then he’d broken her heart. Now she stood to lose their friendship, her dream—everything.
Cal, for reasons known only to him, toyed with her. It wasn’t like he wanted her beyond friendship and business partnership. He’d made that clear when he turned down her offer of sex. Her mind slipped back to the summer before last.
Cal had been devastated when Raine broke up with him, stoned or loaded for days—not a good time for Aly to realize she loved him. Not a good time to think she might be pregnant from a guy she’d caught naked with the assistant camp dietician the week before.
Aly had knocked on the outside garage door where Cal said she could find him. She told him it was an emergency—hers. She didn’t want him thinking this had to do with Raine. She did need Cal. He was her best friend.
No answer. She could see light coming from around the door. She twisted the knob, and the door gave way. Heavy metal music pulsated from a paint-splattered boom box. Cal sat on the foot of an open sofa bed, his back to her. He faced Raine’s portrait propped against a ten-speed bike.
She stepped around the boxes stacked on the grease-stained cement and looked at Cal. He stared blankly at the portrait. Was he high? He looked up at her when she stepped into his field of vision.
She turned the music down. “Raine told me about the other day. I’m sorry.”
His jaw clenched under the coarse, brown stubble. “What’s your emergency?”
She sank down beside him on the bare, fold-out mattress. “I—I think I’m pregnant.”
He looked at her, his expression losing some of the sullenness. “What are you going to do?” His voice was flat.
“I don’t know.” She lay back on the mattress, blowing all the air out of her lungs. “I did the math today.” A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye.
Cal looked down at her. Self-pity and compassion for her warred in his face. Cal dropped onto one elbow beside her. “I’m sorry, Al.” He brushed away the tear with the backs of his fingers. The tenderness he scraped from somewhere deep inside made her want to cry even more.
Cal gathered her to him with one arm and held her while she swallowed the tears in her throat.
She let out a ragged sigh.
“Hey, it’s not a contest. You didn’t have to come up with bigger issues than I’ve got.” Cal lay back, threading an arm around her shoulders.
She gave him a smile that was not a smile.
“Your love language is touch, did you ever realize that? That’s how you give and receive love. That’s why you—”
“Say it. That’s why I sleep with guys when I’ve been taught all my life, it’s wrong.” She squeezed her eyes shut, but tears leaked out the corners running across the bridge of her nose and into her hair.
Cal dropped his free arm over her, and she curled into him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Come on, don’t cry.”
“All I’ve ever wanted was for someone to hold me like you’re holding me now.”
“You haven’t had a dad since you were seven. Of course you’re going to go looking for what you missed.”
The truth of his words soaked into her spirit, and she cried. Silent sobs racked her body.
When she looked up at Cal, the overhead bulb caught tear trails running from the corners of his eyes like slug tracks—for Raine, she was sure. Somehow, that was okay. She had snuggled her nose against Cal’s scratchy neck where skin bunched under his chin. There was no place she would rather have been.
Aly stood and stretched, her fingertips touching the top of the cabin. But then she’d ruined it and offered him sex. Cal had turned her down, sweetly, but he’d turned her down. She’d never met a guy who would refuse sex if he was remotely attracted to the girl. And it hadn’t been a week later that Cal slept with Evie.
He’d kissed Aly to say thanks for listening to his plea for help with his business. Last night he’d thanked her with a hug—one that lasted too long. That was all. Cal had been raised a preacher’s kid. Starr had always been so tightly wound, Aly couldn’t imagine her loosening up enough to have the sex required to produce three children. Why would Cal even want someone like her?
No one would ever mistake her for a good girl like Raine or her sister or Missy. But Aly had begged God for forgiveness, said a thousand Hail Marys. After thirty-one months of abstinence, she felt better than she had in years, but she still couldn’t lift her chin from the shame. And she still starved for physical and emotional connection like she always had.
Dad had broken her heart. Cal had done the same. No way could she survive another one. She would set boundaries with Cal and stick to them.
Fish balanced a Chinet plate of fried fish, slaw and chips as he slid onto the picnic table bench across from Starr and Evie. “Gotta love a church fish fry.” He grinned at them, inhaling the scent of warm fish, grease, and French fries.
Evie leaned toward him giving him a better view of the daisy tattoo and her other attributes. “This is how I always pictured a family reunion.”
Starr’s mouth quirked in a rueful smile. “Only with people you like.” She glanced at Fish. “Hi, stranger. How’re your folks?”
I have no idea. I got their last e-mail six weeks ago. “Fine. Everybody’s fine.” He should have answered them last month. His chest ached when he thought of his family—even after all this time. But they were the ones who left him. They deserved his silence.
Starr glanced at Evie. “Sean’s parents, two sisters, and brother started an orphanage in Peru seven years ago.” Starr focused back on him. “I was just telling Evie, now that she’s got her GED, she should pick up some college classes.”
Relief that Starr switched gears from his family to Evie swam through him. He swallowed a mouthful of snapper. “Go to school, Evangeline, better yourself.”
Evie narrowed her eyes. “What, I’m not good enough for you if I don’t go to stinkin’ college? Well, in street smarts, I’m a freaking genius.”
A wistful expression settled on Starr’s face. “If somebody had cared whether I went to college, maybe I would have gone.”
He’d never thought about what it must have been like to have Henna and Leaf as mother and father. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who felt parentally shortchanged.
“I’ve got ambition,” Evie said. “I want a nice car, My Chemical Romance cranked, wind blowing through my hair, nails done at the salon.”
He had ambition, too, to prove he didn’t need Mom and Dad, to make it in politics. He’d coasted through college on the seven-year plan and figured he’d eventually get around to law school and prepping for a run at the Florida senate. Cal’s nearly deep-sixing the dream had catapulted him into full-on pursuit.
Still, the legal aid idea niggled at him. Ever since Missy mentioned it, he kept envisioning himself in the role—and liking it. Another New Smyrnan, Sue Ellen Henderson had parlayed a her law degree into work for Habitat for Humanity. Yeah, the suggestion warranted exploration. As did Missy and the hurt he’d seen under her anger. He just hadn’t figured out how to approach her.
Missy plopped down on the bench next to him, tossed a hey at the group, and faced Starr. “Could you give me a ride to the library? I’ve got study group in half an hour.”
Fish leaned into Missy’s orange blossom shampoo scent. “I’m headed out. I’ll give you a lift.” He dropped his napkin onto his plate and stood.
Starr shot him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Fish. Say hello to your family for me.”
Way to put a fist in his gut. “Right.”
Missy’s over-sized shoulder bag thumped against her jean-clad hip as she walked beside him. “I saw you wince when Mom mentioned your family. You really need to go see them. Time to get over your mondo issues. Forgive them.”
“When did you switch your major from education to family therapy?”
“Since when do you have a clue what I’m majoring in?”
He looked
at her. “I read your Facebook page.”
“Stalker.”
“I think you’re the stalker, finagling a ride from me. Back to your old ways.”
Missy sputtered. “I so did not stalk you. Ever. Forget it. I’m walking.” She veered away from his truck.
He caught her elbow and pulled her back, nose to nose. “I was kidding. Don’t get pissed. I hate it when you’re mad at me. You’re such a shrew.” He backed her up against the truck. “I still haven’t figured out what made you so mad when I asked you out.” He leaned in close to her face. “I vote we kiss and make up.” He saw the freckle dust on her cheeks, her full lips coated in something sparkly he was more than ready to taste. But the pain staring from her eyes before she dropped her gaze doused all desire to tease her.
He straightened and opened the passenger door. “Get in.”
Missy stood still, her face clouded with indecision.
“Please. We need to talk.”
She shot him a wary glance and climbed in.
His gaze snagged on the way her long-sleeved navy T-shirt hugged her curves as he shut the door, and he shot his glance away, kicked some mud from the running board.
He rounded the truck and slid into the driver’s seat. “It seems like you’ve been mad ever since the night I saw you at the marina. What gives?” He cranked the engine and pulled away from the curb.
“I’m fine. We’re fine. No worries.”
“I may not have hung out with you a lot lately, but I remember that bottom lip stuck out. It usually meant Cal had teased you.”
Missy glanced at him. “Hey, thanks for the ride. I really didn’t want to walk.”
“Don’t change the subject. What did I do? Tell me. I’m serious.”
Missy clamped her arms across her waist. “I don’t want to tell you. It’s humiliating. I’ll get over it. Things will work out.”
“We’ve been friends our whole lives, and you’re important to me.” He rolled to a stop at the light at US 1. “Spit it out.”
The Art of My Life Page 9