Lifetime Risk (Pelican Bay Security Book 7)

by MEGAN MATTHEWS

  Nate gives Emma a kiss on the cheek, making sure it’s extra slobbery, and then passes her off to me.

  “Do you think she likes vanilla or chocolate?” Tabitha asks from behind the bakery counter.

  Nate’s head lifts up, looking at the two cupcakes Tabitha holds out, one in each hand. “Chocolate, of course.”

  “Nate, are you sure we want to pump her full of sugar?” I ask tentatively. Sure, she’s getting older and has had sugar before, but Emma has enough energy on her own. I can’t imagine what she’ll be like on a full cupcake.

  When he mentioned bringing Emma to the bakery so I could talk with the girls while he went to work for a few hours, he never said anything about letting her consume large amounts of chocolate. The cupcake is half the size of her head. Chocolate and Emma aren’t always such the good mix. There’s no telling how it will go.

  “She loves chocolate,” Nate says in a singsong voice, getting close to Emma’s face. “Doesn’t my little girl love chocolate?”

  She hits him on the nose, and from the way he leans back smiling, I’m pretty sure he takes it as a yes.

  “I wish I had a highchair for the bakery,” Anessa says walking over to the counter and handing Nate the chocolate cupcake. “It’s the first thing I’ll add to my next shopping list. I’m sorry,”

  Nate takes the cupcake from her, using his finger to wipe off a small piece of the chocolate frosting and letting Emma stuck it off his finger. When I was a new mother, I would’ve been disgusted because who knows where his finger has been. But now I don’t know what the hell she’s eating half the time. Probably 75 percent of the food that makes it in her mouth touched the floor first. I have bigger priorities, like making sure she doesn’t run off and get lost. At some point we must get this potty-training thing started, too.

  “If I leave, do you promise to stay in the building?” Nate asks, looking me in the eyes.

  My word, make one little run to your storage unit and then drive through town with a car full of drugs and everyone acts like you need a babysitter.

  I widen my eyes so he can see how honest my answer is. “Nate, I promise. I would never do anything with Emma.” What kind of parent does he think I am? Yes, I might let her listen Eminem but I wouldn’t risk her life.

  “Nate, go do what you have to do. She’ll be fine here. If anything happens, we have our own undercover special agent right here with Crispin.” Anessa points out the same man I saw step up with Nate and Ridge during the confrontation with the motorcycles.

  The blond-haired, dark-eyed man lowers the book he’s been reading — making me think he wasn’t reading all — and gives Anessa a look. Then with a fingertip to his lips he shakes his head at her. “Shhhs.”

  Anessa rolls her eyes from behind the counter but Crispin only smiles.

  “How long are you on crap duty, Crispin?” Nate asks.

  Tabitha scoffs. “We’re not crap duty.”

  “Regardless, Tabitha’s right,” Anessa butts in. “We are the Bakery Bandit girls and being stationed in the bakery is a high honor. Plus I pump them full of chocolate and food all day.”

  Crispin smiles. “It’s a hard job, but somebody has to do it until You Know Who gets taken care of,” he says looking at Nate.

  Nate nods as if he knows who he’s discussing. I have a feeling I do too.

  “Make sure and keep your eye on Josie, Crispin” Nate says leaning down and giving Emma a quick kiss on top of her head and then me a matching one.

  “Take care of my girls and make sure she gets all the cupcakes she wants.”

  “You’ll change her diapers tonight,” I yell, as he walks out the door.

  Nate holds the door open for Pearl as she walks into the bakery, and she turns back, spending a few seconds watching him leave. “That man. I don’t know how you are so lucky to end up with the backside that dude is sporting.”

  The word dude coming from the older woman’s mouth is weird and off-putting, but then so are half the things Pearl says.

  She sits down at her favorite table and Crispin raises his book, pretending to read again.

  “Although if you had seen Roland in his younger days. Tsk tsk tsk. That man was a looker. We used to get it on three times a day.”

  “Pearl!” Tabitha says.

  Crispin lifts his book a little higher, and I swear his ear turns a shade of red.

  Pearl rolls her eyes. “Don’t tell me you aren’t, ladies. If you aren’t, then you are not using your time effectively. You’re young right now. Don’t waste these years of flexibility.”

  Anessa wipes her hands on her pink apron and brings over a teacup of water and tea bag for Pearl, setting them on her plate.

  “Why don’t you set Emma down with me so she can eat that cupcake she’s staring at like it’s life’s answer to living.” Pearl pats the seat on the other side of her small round table.

  I consider it for a second, but then I visualize Emma falling off the chair when she falls into a sugar coma and can’t sit still.

  “Make the tough guy hold her,” Pearl says, using her thumb to point back at Crispin.

  “Me?” he asks with a smidge of fear.

  My eyes light up at the idea. He’d never let anything happen to Emma because Nate would have a fit. “Would you? Please?”

  He sighs, resigned to his fate, and closes his book without even bothering to use a bookmark. Then he gets up and moves to the other side of Pearl’s table. I place Emma in his lap and the cupcake on the table and try to turn the other direction so I don’t witness the horror that’s about to happen. I’m not sure this is part of the job these tough guys signed up for when Ridge recruited them.

  “Nate sure has taken to her. Hasn’t he?” Pearl asks, dropping her tea bag in the cup of water.

  The kisses, baby talk, and the way he talks about Emma. The way she reaches for him when she cries, knowing Nate will give in to whatever her demands are at the time. All the memories bring a smile to my face as I think about how, yes, Nate has taken to her. And she to him.

  “He’s been great.” And I think if he was doing it for my sake he would’ve cracked by now. He wouldn’t have gotten up with her multiple times in the middle of night when she was sick.

  “What about her father? Is he in her life? Will that become an issue?” Pearl asks.

  Tabitha shakes her head, going back behind the counter. “Pearl is not one to mince words,” she whispers before leaving me to the wolf.

  “He sees her once a month, sometimes twice. Barry is a very busy with his new girlfriend. When we first split up, he saw her often but now that I’ve moved further away and his girlfriend becomes more demanding, he’s seeing her less and less.” Each visit he drops her off a little earlier on Sunday afternoon.

  “I hate men like that,” Anessa says, pulling a knife high in the air. “I want to walk up and tell every single one of them off.” She stabs at the cake, sliding the knife all the way through to cut a piece for Pearl in one fluid motion. Remind me to never upset that woman.

  “I can see that.” Tabitha removes the knife from Anessa’s hands, allowing her to put the piece of cake on a plate and walk it to Pearl. “No one give her sharp knives when she’s worked up.”

  “Well, it is ridiculous. You meet a guy and give him so much of your life and what does he do?”

  “Throws it away for bitches and drugs,” Tabitha hollers and then shrugs and we all look in her direction. “Hey, it happens. Happened to me.”

  “Exactly who is your ex?” I ask Tabitha. She’s never given me the whole story.

  She pinches her face together like she doesn’t want to tell me. “He was a lot of things, but I didn’t see him for any of them until I left and then the truth came out.”

  I nod, understanding what she’s saying. I thought I was married to a completely honest man, yet the longer we were apart after the divorce the truth of who my husband was slowly seeped to the surface. Why couldn’t I see it before?

  “Well you le
t us know if he causes any trouble because we’ve got your back,” Anessa says, pointing between her and Tabitha, who hides the knife in the small sink behind the counter.

  Emma squeals, drawing my attention, and I look over to find her face covered in chocolate. You can’t even see her nose holes she has so much shoved up them. It’s like I put the cupcake down on the table and she smashed her face into it trying to get as much chocolate in her mouth as quickly as possible. Crispin searches me with his eyes in a pleading look as he holds Emma on his lap while trying his best not to touch any of her parts covered in sticky chocolate.

  Emma flails her hands wildly, and she hits him in the chin, splattering frosting all over his jaw. Crispin’s mouth falls open in disgust and he closes his eyes.

  “I hope Spencer can take still shots in the video feed because we need this moment to live on forever,” Tabitha says not taking her eyes off Crispin. “Did you hear that, Spencer?” she questions, loudly at the camera she must believe is in the corner of the room. “Still shots!”

  “So sorry.” I go to his side and relieve him of Emma so he can go to the bathroom and clean up. Emma doesn’t care at all. She squishes the cupcake with her hand and squeals, smashing a few last bites in her mouth. The door to the bakery opens, and a customer walks in as I work to clean up the crumbles of chocolate cupcake surrounding Emma on the floor. No one seems to mind or bother she’s made a huge mess. For just a second, during the brief period Emma lets me sit peacefully, my eyes circle the bakery and I breathe a sigh of relief. I may have been searching most of my life, but the time has finally come. I found where I belong.

  A bit of wind — a cool blast off the ocean’s waves — twists my hair and pushes past where Nate, Emma, and I walk along the beach. Emma squeals in her stroller. She’s always loved to be near the water.

  “Are you cold?” Nate asks, looking at the goosebumps running across my arms.

  I wipe them away and they stay gone. “No, every once in a while the breeze picks up, but I’m not ready to go back.”

  We spent the day together, walking the beach hand in hand. Emma played in the sand, knocking down all the tall sand castles Nate worked so desperately hard to build for her. It was a wonderful afternoon. The sun warmed my skin, and the birds squawked in the sky while the waves crashed against the shore. It has been one of those days I’ll remember for the rest of my life but each time I’ll wonder if it was as amazing as I recall. It’ll seem too good to be true.

  But that’s what it is. Perfect.

  Nate stops and then pushes down the parking brake on the stroller. He stares out into the water with his attention slowly working its way down the sky and stares at the waves as they crash on the shore.

  “I wasn’t sure what I expected to find what I moved here, but it’s gorgeous.”

  Together we stare out at the view and I nod standing next to him. I’ve lived near the water most my life, but there’s something special about the way the bay comes in and the land forms around the sea at large. Pelican Bay has its own special ocean, just for the lucky people who know of this place.

  “So many people think of beautiful sunsets on the water happening in the South like Florida or California, but it’s just gorgeous up here.” Maine is so misunderstood.

  “I thought this was something you only see in Florida.”

  Wait until Nate sees his first whale. It may not be as warm in this part of northern Maine but it’s beautiful.

  “I can see myself spending the rest of my life here,” he says, and it’s so nonchalant he doesn’t notice how his words affect me.

  But they do. Was there a point in time he hadn’t planned to live here forever? “Do you plan to leave?” I ask, trying my best not to be shaken by fear.

  “No, not now,” he says, not taking his eyes from the view. “When I first moved, I wasn’t so sure I’d make it. I’m used to the big city and Pelican Bay is far from city life.”

  I laugh. Most of Maine is far from city life. “Was growing up in LA fun?” I’ve never been, but being surrounded by celebrities seems like it could have its perks.

  Contrary to what I expect, Nate shakes his head. “A lot of smog, cars, and homeless. People think of Hollywood and the celebrities, but there’s many more people who are barely making it than those who live in mansions.”

  There’s an income difference here as well. Not everyone lives in large mansions like Pierce Kensington. Most people have medium to even small-sized homes packed together in the downtown area. And even those cost a fortune. If you polled the people of Pelican Bay, most wouldn’t even say they wanted the big mansion but preferred a little cabin in the woods surrounded by nature. Life is simpler here and in most people’s opinions a lot better that way. I agree with them.

  “Maybe for Christmas I’ll go home and visit my family,” he says and then his eyes fall to Emma. “If you’re allowed to go?”

  The question isn’t direct, but I understand what he’s asking. We’ve had this discussion before about who gets Emma on holidays. Barry doesn’t care for most of them, but Christmas is one he makes me alternate.

  “I’ll check the calendar and see if this year is my turn have Emma for Christmas.” I hate the idea of having to spend a holiday without her. A part of me hopes my ex will stop caring and let me keep her every year, but that makes me a bad mother. Her father should be in her life even if I hate him.

  “Either way we’ll make sure Emma has a great Christmas.”

  My breath stalls and then picks up quickly. Nate may not realize what he’s said, but I do. My heart and brain both jump in glee. He is thinking about what we’ll be doing this holiday season — which is months away, an entire summer and fall. I haven’t even thought about Christmas yet. I’m still trying to survive this month.

  Nate checks his watch and then unlocks the stroller and walks down the sidewalk, which separates the public beach from the rest of Pelican Bay.

  “Do you want to stop and get some ice cream?” he asks as we get closer to the ice-cream stand.

  A small rectangular building sits in the middle of the parking lot connected to the beach. I’ve tried to say away because my hips don’t need the calories, but they have the best soft serve I’ve ever eaten. Besides, I’m pretty sure they’re putting something else besides milk and sugar in it.

  “I think she’s out,” I say, leaning forward to look in the stroller and see a sleeping child. Emma hasn’t made a noise for the last five minutes, which is a dead giveaway that at some point her eyes rolled back and she passed out. It doesn’t happen often, but occasionally she falls asleep the same way she wakes up in the morning zero to sixty.

  Nate laughs. “It’s for the best. I will have nightmares for months about that diaper you made me change. Who knew that color could come from a baby?”

  “I tried to warn you. Chocolate does something to Emma.”

  “You know what?” Nate asks, looking off into the distance across the street from where we stand. “You deserve an adult dessert.”

  “An adult dessert?”

  Nate looks back, his eyes narrowed my direction, and then his lips tip up into a smile. “Not that kind of dessert. Something with cake in it.” He pauses, checking for traffic as we cross the road. “But if you want to get kinky with cake, I’d be up for it.”

  “Kinky with cake?” A blush stains my cheeks, thinking about what that could mean. I may never walk into the bakery without getting some kind of bedroom cake image in my head again.

  11

  Nate walks us right up to the Pelican Bay Bed and Breakfast, using the ramp to get Emma past all the steps. The hostess meets us at the door and he asks to be seated on the patio.

  “Wow, I can’t believe they have an opening,” I whisper as the blonde-haired hostess leads us to one of the large open patios facing the water. In the past, I’ve tried to eat here before when my mother was in town, but reservations happen weeks in advance over the summer.

  Nate checks his watch. “Not many
people coming in for dinner at 9 p.m.”

  He has a point.

  The waitress steps up to our table as soon as the hostess steps away. A few pieces of hair have slipped from her bun and her eyes are droopy.

  “Hi, my name is Sammie and I’ll be your waitress tonight. The kitchen is closing down and shutting off ovens, but we offer cold items from the fridge. Salads and chilled pastas.”

  “That’s okay, Sammie. We’re just here for dessert. Can we have those menus?” Nate asks, handing back the dinner menu she passed his way. He readjusts Emma’s stroller between us and covers her with the extra blanket shoved in the side as he smiles down at her sleeping form. Those little gestures show so much.

  Sammie sighs with relief. “Of course. I’ll bring out the cart.”

  “A cart?” I haven’t eaten at a restaurant with a cart for desserts since I was married.

  Nate doesn’t have time to answer before Samantha sweeps back with the cart pushed in front of her. She’s walking ten miles an hour, her legs pumping to quicken her pace. Fake desserts highlight what they offer on the cart for patrons to look at and make a selection.

  It takes less than a nano second for me to decide what I want. “Do you have that big chocolate thing in a smaller size?”

  Not that I couldn’t eat the entire Molten Lava cake by myself, but I’d rather not when Nate’s around.

  He laughs. “Get a full one and I’ll eat half. If you’re okay with that?” he questions, looking up into my eyes. Like I would ever say no.

  I nod. I’m okay sharing dessert with Nate forever.

  “You’re sure it’s okay?” Nate asks again once the waitress leaves.

  I hold back a laugh. “Do I look that hungry? Of course. I couldn’t eat the whole thing myself.” Lies.

  “Look at that sunset,” Nate says, turning his chair a bit to get a better view of the ocean from our spot on the patio and completely changing the subject. His hair blows in the breeze coming off the water and his smile glows in the lights from the ocean.

  I turn, following his direction, and am taken aback by the pink hues that flood the sky. They turn each cloud into its own painted canvas. Sunsets in Maine don’t happen over the water — the whole East coast thing — but it doesn’t mean you don’t get a gorgeous feel on the opposite side. If you want to see the full beauty, you’ve got to get up in the morning.