Saving Shay (Florida Veterans Book 4)

by Tiffani Lynn

  What is she doing living out here all alone, and where is her family? It seems wrong to have such a beautiful young woman living in virtual seclusion. The other strange thing about it all is that she’s not living in her family home; she’s living in her granny’s home on the back of the property. Weird.

  I spend the rest of the day trying to air out my parents’ house and clean it up. They weren’t just terrible parents, they were major slobs too. I don’t have many memories in the house that don’t involve some kind of abuse I suffered at their hands, but I don’t remember the house being quite this gross. Sure, they’ve been gone from here for probably 15 years now so some things just grow, but most of this mess was left behind by them and their nasty ways.

  I’ve thought several times about just tossing a match on the place and burning it to the ground. I could rebuild something on the property that I can live in when I get out of the military in a couple of months, but without water it’s likely the fire I’d set would spread to the field and cause an epic fire event. So, for now I’m cleaning it out. I’ll make changes or tear it down once I move here permanently.

  As I’m dumping the fourth bag of garbage into the back of my truck I hear the sound of tires on the dirt road that runs in front of my property. The sheriff, my lawyer and Shay are the only ones who know I’m on the property so no one should be coming out here. The vehicle reaches my house but keeps going. Shay’s surprise to my presence earlier tells me that she’s not used to having people around. Do I go over to check on her or leave it alone? She didn’t seem very receptive to having me there, but the little voice in my head that has rarely been wrong is telling me to get over there.

  I snatch my cell phone off the front porch banister and jog through the mostly overgrown path between the properties. When I break through the last bit of vines into the clearing of her parents’ front yard, which is closer to the dirt road then her granny’s yard, I see two men in black three-piece suits, with dark, slicked back hair climbing out of a white Cadillac.

  Shay approaches from the side of the yard with a menacing pitchfork and an equally scary expression. I step out a little further so she can see me.

  “Shay,” I call to her. She turns to me a little and her shoulders relax slightly. “You okay?”

  “Depends,” she tells me as she turns her attention back to the men approaching. “This is private property, gentlemen,” she tells the men while I move over to stand next to her, facing them.

  “Are you Shay Baird?” the man on the left asks with a slick smile firmly in place.

  She tilts her head. “Depends on who is asking.”

  He chuckles in a used-car salesman kind of way and I’m on edge more than I was when I heard the car coming down the dirt road.

  “Ms. Baird, I’m Joe Angelotti and this is my partner, Leo Ricci. We represent Costa Petroleum. We wanted to talk to you about a few things.”

  “I don’t see what you could possibly want with me.” She’s rightfully skeptical.

  “We’re prepared to make you a very lucrative offer on this property if it turns out that you’re sitting on an oil reserve like we think you are. Mr. and Mrs. Smith out by the county line just made enough off us to retire at the beach and live high on the hog for the rest of their days.” He punctuates his declaration with that shark’s smile that makes me uneasy. A smile like that is designed to make her think she’s about to be rolling in money. I hope she’s not falling for this. I’m trained to read people and situations and nothing about this feels right.

  “I don’t care if I’m sitting on El Dorado, I’m not selling this land. So I appreciate you stopping by with the offer, but you can move on to the next person. I’m not interested. This is my home.”

  “Miss Baird—”

  “Nothing you can say is going to change my mind,” she says through clenched teeth.

  “But—” Joe tries again.

  I step a little in front of her protectively. “Miss Baird has been clear. It’s time for you to go. She’s not interested.”

  Leo clears his throat, drawing Joe’s attention, and gives him a quick shake of the head.

  Joe takes a deep breath and says, “We’ll go, but think about it. We’ll be staying at the Plantation for a few more days. The offer stands if you want to discuss it.”

  Leo walks back to the car and climbs in the driver’s side. After a few seconds of silence Joe follows and climbs in the passenger side. They back out, watching us the whole way. As we wait for them to leave. Once they’re gone she turns to me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I heard the car passing and had a feeling it was someone unwanted. I was checking to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’ve been living alone for a long time,” she says quietly.

  “I figured that too, but something just felt off. I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds.”

  She sighs and hangs her head. “I’m not trying to be rude. I’ve been alone out here forever it seems, and I’m not used to having people around.”

  “And I’m not trying to be intrusive, only helpful. I don’t think that’s the last you’ll see of those guys. When I was at the diner I heard about the Smiths taking a crazy offer from some oil company, but I thought it was just town gossip.”

  “Apparently not,” she says, sounding tired.

  “Alright, well I’ll get out of your hair. If they show back up, just yell. I forgot how great the sound carries out here.” She nods slightly, staring off into the distance. I guess I’m dismissed. I’m not sure what happened, but the friendly little girl I spent all my free time with as a kid is long gone, along with the one who gave me a hug by the creek.

  I trudge back to the house, not ready to go back inside to continue clearing shit out. The place is a dump and my insides feel raw as it is; I’m in no mood to make that worse. Something about seeing Shay again has messed up my head. I fire up my truck and head for town.

  A few hours later I’ve been to Walmart for water, a cooler, ice and some non-perishable food to get me through. I went up and down every aisle trying to kill time and I’m still not ready to go back out to the property. So, I turn into a little restaurant on the water called The Lobster Lounge to grab a bite to eat and a beer. This place wasn’t here when I lived here as a kid, but I heard a couple behind me in line at the store talking about it and decided it was worth a try. The building on the outside is nothing special to look at, but the smell in here is incredible.

  Once I’m settled onto my stool at the bar, the bartender approaches. “Hey, man, what can I get for you?”

  “Do you have any local brews? IPA preferably.”

  The guy next to me says, “You should try the Marker 48. Good stuff.”

  “Thanks, man.” I lift my chin at him and tell the bartender, “Marker 48 it is.”

  For the next 15 minutes the guy next to me and I carry on a conversation about beer and travel. His build is similar to mine, but he’s taller. From the way he carries himself I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s military too.

  “You live here?” the man asks.

  “I used to. I’m taking possession of my parents’ old property. I’ll move back when I get out of the Navy in a few months.”

  He sits quietly for a few minutes. “I saw your frog tat.” It’s all he says to let me know that he knows my frog is tribute to my SEAL status. Most of it is hidden under my shirt sleeve high on my arm but the legs stick out of my short-sleeve T-shirts and half the body is visible when I lift my arms. Most of the time I keep it covered but being in the Florida heat makes that difficult.

  “What do you know about frogs?” I ask.

  “My partner, Hudson, has one too. I was Army Special Forces. Hudson and I own a security firm here in town.”

  “Security here?” I ask, not believing him. This town is too small and quiet to need a security firm for anything other than home security alarms.

  “Mostly out of town, but our home base is here. We decided to relocate here last year. We
’re only an hour from the airport and two major cities. We get plenty of clients. I’d rather travel and come back to this place at the end of a job than stay in the city. You know what you want to do when you get out?”

  I shake my head. I don’t have a clue about what I want to do, only that I want to live here. Not in that particular house but definitely on that property.

  “I’m Mike Wade. Here’s my card. If you still don’t have a job when you get out and think you might be interested in security work, give me a call. Will you live here in Crystal River?”

  “I’m taking back what used to be my parents’ property in the north end of Crystal River out by Gator Creek. I haven’t moved anything in. I’m still trying to figure out if I’m plowing the house and starting from scratch or remodeling. I’m in the cleaning out phase.”

  He regards me closely for a minute. “Isn’t that where Costa Petroleum is trying to buy up the land?”

  How would he know about that? “They haven’t approached me yet, but yeah. They came out to my neighbor’s place today. She said no.”

  “They aren’t going to like that.” Mike shakes his head and takes a drink of his beer.

  “No, they didn’t,” I mutter.

  “You planning to sell?”

  “I doubt it. That’s the only peaceful place I know and after the life I’ve lived, peace is priceless.”

  “I hear you, man.” We go back to drinking our beer and I eat a grouper sandwich. When I’m ready to leave we shake hands and say goodbye.

  I don’t know why it didn’t dawn on me that Costa would be coming for my land too. Our properties butt right up next to each other, so it makes sense. Maybe they’re tied up in trying to figure out who the rightful owner is. I only found out a few months ago and was as surprised as anyone. My grandpa wrote his will in such a way that no one can sell that property without my consent. He must have figured out before he died what a piece of crap my dad was and tried to protect my interests the best way he could. I’d just returned to Coronado from some crazy shit in South America when I got notification that my grandpa died in that nursing home he was living for the last 30 years and the property was mine. My commanding officer called me into his office and gave me the paperwork. I was surprised, to say the least. I didn’t even know he was still alive.

  This is the first time I’ve taken leave to visit Florida in a long time. My adoptive parents came out to see me in California a couple of times and we all met in Texas one year for Christmas at my sister’s house, but I haven’t been to Florida for a long time.

  Once I realized that the town hadn’t grown up much I decided I’d like to build there. My issues were never with the city of Crystal River. They were always with the birth parents who had custody of me until I was 11 years old. Now that I know Shay is on the land next door still, has no plans of leaving, and is unmarried, I’m even more certain it’s where I want to be.

  Three

  Shay

  How did my life turn upside down again in one day? First Paxton Jones—I mean, Pearsal—shows up for the first time in over 15 years, while I’m swimming naked. Then some slick oil company guys show up to try and buy my land out from under me. There is no way I will sell it and the thought of it makes me feel ill.

  As angry as I was to have those men here, though, I was equally pleased to have Paxton at my back. My fear wasn’t as great as it would have been had he not been with me. I’m weary of strangers, considering my history, and my greatest fear is having to leave this place for any reason. I have a hard enough time just going to the store in the middle of the night for fear something will keep me from getting back here.

  I’ve been in bed for two hours trying to fall asleep and I’m nowhere close. For the first time in my life I’m having sexy thoughts about a man to the point of sleeplessness. I know what sex is. Between the birds and the bees conversation I got from my granny—which was super awkward—all the sex in the movies and television shows I’ve seen, and the brief dating history I had when I was 16 years old, I get what it is, but my lack of exposure to the opposite sex has left me relatively dormant in that department. Well, that was true until Paxton showed up here reeking of testosterone and handsome goodness. I didn’t realize real-life men could look like him.

  The nighttime stock man at the grocery store looks like he could be my dad and the few delivery guys that have shown up out here haven’t looked any way that made me feel like a woman with working hormones.

  It’s the craziest feeling. Every time I think of Paxton, a little buzzing starts in my sex and my nipples turn hard as rocks. I hope he doesn’t come back over because I’m not sure I can curb my body’s reaction to him and I’m afraid he’ll notice. The embarrassment will kill me, I’m certain of it. I mean, a guy like him probably has a different sex partner every night or maybe even a wife. Crap! Was he wearing a wedding band? I didn’t even notice. If he shows back up, that’s the first thing I’ll look at after I’m done being hypnotized by that damn dimple. God, why am I even thinking about this?

  I throw the covers off and walk out through the living room. The nightlights I keep in every room have it bright enough in here that I can see without any issues. I unlock the front door and slip outside. The night is warm and a little humid but not too uncomfortable considering I’m in a tank top and little sleep shorts. I settle on to the porch swing and push off with my feet. It’s a new moon so the sky is darker and the stars are brighter than usual. I love these kinds of nights. The crickets are loud and off in the distance I can hear the coyotes crying.

  Although I’m lonely more often than not, I do enjoy moments like these. It makes me think of being a little kid, staying at my granny’s, which I did about once a week, and sneaking out here on sleepless nights. I always thought I was being tricky, but my granny could hear the old screen door squeak and would give me a little time before she’d come out and join me. She was a sweet woman and I miss her more than I ever would have thought possible.

  The crickets silence suddenly and goosebumps rise along my arms. I stop the swing from moving and sit quietly, waiting to see if they’ll start back up. Sometimes a fox or a larger animal moving through the field causes them to quiet for a little bit. The cracking of sticks draws my attention toward the east side of the porch and I climb off the swing and move backward toward the door.

  “Hey!” a familiar voice calls out. I pause and squint into the dark as a tall shadowy figure comes out from the path between the houses.

  “Shay, it’s Paxton.”

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, a little freaked by the way he appeared but thankful it’s him.

  “I couldn’t sleep. It’s too muggy and hot tonight. I just thought I’d see if any lights were on over here. I’m not used to being alone so the quiet was also driving me nuts.”

  A sliver of sadness slides down into my belly. “Are you married or have a girlfriend? Or boyfriend?”

  His head jerks back a little as he climbs the steps to my porch.

  “Nah, I’m not gay. No girlfriend and no wife.” There is a long pause as he studies my face before he asks, “What about you? Boyfriend or husband?”

  I shake my head. “No, neither. I don’t get out enough to have met anyone.”

  “That’s a shame,” he mumbles.

  I want to ask him if that’s a compliment or a put-down, but I’m not sure I’m equipped to hear the answer to that. He motions to the swing next to me. “Can I swing with you?”

  I smile a little and nod. When we were kids we spent a lot of hours on this porch swing together, usually shucking corn or snapping beans for my granny. Good memories.

  “It’s weird being back here,” he says, shifting me out of my trip down memory lane.

  “Yeah, I bet. I’ve never left so I wouldn’t know. What’s weird about it?”

  “Sleeping in the front yard. The quiet of no one being around. The lack of fear as I stomp around the property. I spent so many years scared of my father’s fists and m
y mother’s verbal jabs. I didn’t realize what a state of fear I lived in until I moved in with the Pearsals. It took me close to a year to stop freaking out whenever someone would spill milk, slam a door or get a bad grade. Luckily, they were patient with me and helped me get past it.”

  “You said it’s weird being quiet.” I don’t really ask a question, I just leave it hanging like I want him to elaborate, and thankfully, he does because I’m curious.

  “I’m in the Navy and I’m constantly with the other guys on my team. They may not always be talking but I’ve become accustomed to the sound of them breathing, the general noises they make moving around, flipping pages or whatever. I guess just knowing someone is around is a different feeling than being completely alone.”

  “I get it. It took a long time after my granny died to get used to being totally alone. For so long it had been the two of us so when I couldn’t hear her snoring at night or moving around the house early in the morning or humming in the middle of the day it messed with my head. I miss her.”

  “She was a cool lady. I always liked your granny.”

  “Me too.” I smile a little at the thought of her.

  After that we sit quietly for a long time, swinging and listening to the crickets who have gone back to singing. I yawn, finally getting tired enough that I can sleep. I know it’s a bad idea; I have no idea who Paxton Pearsal is now that he’s all grown up, but my gut says he’s the same person at heart that he was when we were kids, so I take a shot.

  “Why don’t you stay here tonight? You can sleep in my granny’s room if you want. If that creeps you out, you can sleep on the couch. I have the air conditioning going so it’ll be more comfortable than your tent.”