by Kay Lyons
She turned and gave him her back, pulling her braided hair over her shoulder to give him full access.
Her modest suit would definitely be considered a “mom” suit in that it was a one-piece with full coverage, but both sides of the black suit were split, with thin, black straps crisscrossing both sides from breast to hip. She’d liked the little detail when she’d purchased it because it gave the otherwise plain suit some interest, but now even that felt like too much when she was so aware of Denz’s gaze.
The spray was cold as he moved it over her back, but it was the shock of his large hand rubbing the sunscreen in that rocked her. She hadn’t expected that, and even though he only touched her upper shoulders and neck, she found herself sucking in air to combat the alluring desire to lean back, just for a moment, and let someone else hold her upright.
What she wouldn’t give for someone to lean on right now. A partner. A friend. Someone to share the load she carried.
“That should do it,” he murmured, his voice low and husky near her ear. “Unless you want me to spray your legs.”
“N-no, I’ve got it. Thanks.”
“My turn?”
Realizing she’d fallen into a trap of her own making, she forced a smile and turned. “Of course.”
Denz moved to his chair and retrieved the bottle of sunscreen he’d used earlier when they’d arrived.
She tossed the spray into her bag, only then realizing his sunscreen was lotion and that meant… Okay.
He handed off the bottle and turned, and she forced herself to focus on squeezing the lotion into her hand rather than on the broad expanse of his muscled back.
The first touch was the hardest, but she bit her lip and smeared the lotion with quick, efficient motions. Because he had a lot more skin exposed, it took a bit longer to perform the favor, and by the time she finished, she’d eaten off the lip balm she’d applied earlier. “O-okay, done.”
He turned to face her and held out a hand for the lotion. She complied and realized her mistake when his large hand closed over hers and held. She knew with certainty that he saw the finger bruises beginning to darken and pulled away to make a show of carefully spreading her towel on the sand.
“Uh, you forgot something.”
Just about to drop to her knees to hide from the look she knew she received from behind those sunglasses, she turned. “What?”
Denz grabbed her spray from atop the bag where she’d dropped it and gently grasped her elbow, lifting it slightly to spray the crisscrosses and exposed skin on her sides. First one, then the other. “Oh, yeah. Th-thanks.”
“Yup,” he said softly.
He didn’t move away, and Claire got the feeling he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how. She quickly turned and dropped to her towel, ending the possibility that he might mention the bruises.
They sunbathed in silence, and after a bit, she was able to take a breath and settle into the welcoming sand. Her lashes grew heavy despite her rampant thoughts and worries, and she found herself dozing off and waking up as people walked by to find their spot for the day or the birds squawked nearby.
“Claire? Hey, Claire…”
She opened her eyes and spotted a hairy kneecap in her line of vision. That was followed by a strong thigh and the navy blue of Denz’s trunks. “Oh,” she said, rising to her elbows. “I fell asleep.”
“You did. I hate to wake you but you’re going to burn. Time to turn or pack up for the day.”
“Turn. I don’t want to leave yet.” Because if she left, she had to go back to the house and confront Tommy, and right now, she just didn’t have the words or the brain power to form them.
“Your call,” Denz said, getting to his feet. “I’m going for a swim to cool down. You wanna come?”
She squinted up at him, amazed by the sense of security she felt in his presence despite the fact she’d only known him a day. Denz had that solid presence about him, though.
Maybe it was because of what had happened with Tommy, but whatever it was, for the moment, she decided she liked it. “First day of vacation, right? Why not?”
After another hour at the beach, they decided it best to leave. The sand was getting crowded, the sun hotter, and despite sunscreen, they both looked a little pink.
They packed up and headed toward the bridge leading over the dunes, and Claire was thankful she’d taken the time to separate herself from what had happened with her son. Time to cool down and look at it from a less emotional perspective.
Tommy was obviously having difficulties adjusting to his father’s death, and anger emerged because of it. Acting out in school, the attitude.
Tommy had gone to counseling provided by the military for a time but then said he didn’t want to go, and she hadn’t pushed it. Now she wished she had.
“I realize I’m a stranger to you,” Denz murmured as they left the hoses and water behind and headed down the street toward the house. “But sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger than someone you know.”
Her steps faltered, but after a slight stumble, she kept going. “I’m fine.”
It was a mantra she’d repeated every day for the last year. Actually, longer. One that often came to her lips when she felt overwhelmed by responsibilities and life and her husband was overseas and not at her side to deal with the financial stress he’d placed on them with his decisions.
“Just making the offer.”
“Thanks.”
“Claire—”
“I’m fine,” she said again, picking up her pace. “It’ll all be fine.”
Because when it came down to it, what other option was there?
Chapter 10
Later that afternoon, Denz was outside with a battery-operated screwdriver, securing the stair treads leading up to the apartment. Tom had given him such a good rate on the weekly rental, Denz figured a few odd jobs here and there couldn’t hurt.
A door slammed and Denz turned to find Tommy carrying a bag of trash.
He watched as the kid rounded the garage to where the cans were stored in back and then set the tool aside to follow.
The kid had tossed the trash into the can without properly securing the lid and had turned to head back when he realized Denz blocked the path. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Might want to fasten that down. It’ll keep you from having to come clean it all up when the animals get into it at night.”
Denz could tell Tommy didn’t appreciate being corrected, but he secured the lid. That done, the kid tried to slide by Denz. “Hold up.”
Tommy shot Denz a wary look.
“I may be wrong, and I hope to God that I am, but I want an answer. Did you put those bruises on your mother’s arms?”
The kid paled to the color of snow, and Denz felt a rage roll through him unlike any he’d felt in a very long time. He grabbed the kid by his shirt and shoved him back against the garage, meeting Tommy eye to eye. “You hurt your mother?”
“It was an accident. I got mad.”
“There is no excuse for it. None,” he growled into the kid’s face. “And if I ever find out you’ve touched her like that again, I don’t care if I’m on the other side of the world, I will come find you and show you what it’s like to be hurt by someone our size. Do you understand me?”
“Y-yes.”
“I mean it, kid. There won’t be a rock you can climb under to hide from me if you ever touch her that way again.”
“I won’t but—”
“Oh, no. No buts,” Denz said with another shove against the garage.
“Why do you care so much?”
“Seriously? Because I’m a man and what you did to her is the trademark of scum. And just so we’re clear—that bag you stashed is now in my possession, so don’t be bothering your mother about it.”
“That’s mine.”
“Finders keepers,” Denz said grimly.
“Is there a problem here?” Tom asked from the corner of the garage.
Denz held Tommy
’s gaze and watched the kid’s eyes widen even bigger than before. Yeah, the kid knew he’d be in even deeper if Grandpa found out.
Denz stepped back and released Tommy’s shirt, never taking his gaze off the kid. “No. Not anymore.”
“Tommy?”
“No, sir.”
Tommy slid along the wall of the garage and headed toward his grandfather, head ducked.
“Tommy, my truck needs washed. Get to it,” Tom ordered.
“I was going to the beach.”
“Well, now you’re washing my truck,” Tom ordered gruffly. “You can go after. If your mother says it’s okay.”
The kid hesitated for a second, red-faced, but then left them with a final glare at Denz.
“Do I want to know what that was about?” Tom asked.
“No, sir, you don’t.”
“You’ll let me know if something changes and I do?”
Denz nodded.
Tom seemed satisfied with Denz’s response and carried the second, smaller bag of trash toward the can.
“Thanks for fixing up those stairs.”
“No problem.”
“Thank you for that, too,” Tom added. “That boy has an awful big chip he’s carrying around, and whatever caused you to set him straight must have been a doozy.”
Denz didn’t speak. He planned to keep a close watch on both Tommy and Claire while he was in town, but if there was a need to involve Claire’s father, he would. He couldn’t stand the thought of her trying to take on Tommy’s anger alone.
“So, I hear you’re going to a wedding?”
Claire finished her post-beach shower and donned a pair of cutoff shorts and a tank top. Given that it was Saturday and the first day of their stay, as Denz had pointed out, she gave herself the day off to regroup from the last couple of years—and this morning.
She found a lightweight, long-sleeved top she’d brought with her for breezy evenings on the beach. Claire tied it at her waist, then rolled the sleeves at the cuff, careful of the length so that they covered the bruises.
She’d avoided Tommy since her return, but when she went in search of him to have that talk, she discovered him washing her father’s truck. “Okay,” she murmured, wondering how that had come about when she hadn’t been able to get him to do any such chores for ages. Not since before Scott’s death.
“He’s not doing too bad a job,” her father said from behind her.
“Hey, Dad. I thought you were going in to work?”
“I got someone to cover. There’s a music event downtown but nothing my guy can’t handle. Thought I’d stick around.”
Awkward silence filled the space between them, and she shifted against the countertop where she leaned. “I, um, thought I’d make some sandwiches for lunch. Something simple. Sound good?”
“I can do that.”
“I’d like to help. I know you’re not used to having Tommy and me here—”
“That’s not my doing.”
“I didn’t say it was, Dad, I just meant—” She broke off and took a breath, determined to not be drawn into butting heads with him as she always was. “If you want to make them, great. If you want help, let me know.”
“I’ve gotten along okay since your mother passed,” he said, moving to the fridge.
Claire leaned her weight against the counter behind her and tracked her father’s movements. “I know. I’m sorry. Actually, Dad, I’d like to talk about that. Apologize for not being here to help more.”
“You had a husband and son and a job. Didn’t expect you to.”
“I know you didn’t expect it, but I wish… Dad, I just wish things were different between us. That’s all.”
“Things are fine.”
Oh, how familiar that sounded. “Look, Dad—”
“You need to keep an eye on your boy.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. “Why do you say that?”
“Denz had a chat with Tommy earlier.”
Claire cringed, the statement confirming her earlier fears that Denz had indeed noticed the bruises forming and had guessed as to the origin. “Do you, uh, know what it was about?”
“Denz wouldn’t say. But if you want my advice, you need to get the boy in hand now before it’s too late. He’s got a lot of growing and learning to do still, and if a man like Denz is pinning the boy against the wall, Tommy’s in for a world of trouble.”
Pinning him against the wall? “I’ll take care of it.” Oh, would she ever take care of it. No one was going to lay a finger on her son without suffering the consequences.
“Denz has been working ever since you two got back from the beach. You want to help?” her father asked. “Go ask him what he wants on his sandwich. If he’s going to play handyman, the least I can do is feed him.”
She grabbed on to the excuse with both hands and headed for the door, anger fueling her steps. “My pleasure.”
Chapter 11
Claire stalked by Tommy without comment and continued on. Denz was nowhere in sight. No longer working on the stairs, nor searching for tools in the garage beneath.
She took a fortifying breath and eyed the apartment door before jogging up the treads, too angry to appreciate the fact they no longer shook.
The door opened just as she reached the top and she pushed her way inside.
“Uh, come in.”
“Close the door.”
A soft click sounded behind her.
Claire stalked across the small living area, her anger making her entire body tremble. “Did you put your hands on my son?”
“Claire—”
“Answer me.”
“You already know I did or you wouldn’t be asking the question,” he said, leaning back against the wooden panel and crossing his arms over his chest.
“How dare you? What right do you have to touch him? You’re a grown man!”
“Why are you wearing long sleeves?”
“What?”
“It’s eighty-five outside and you’re in long sleeves. How come?”
“We are discussing you bullying a thirteen-year-old child, not my wardrobe.”
“That child is the size of a grown man, and he wasn’t afraid to use his strength or his anger against his own mother.”
Blasted by truth, she turned away from him and stalked as far as she was able before whirling around again. “What did you say to him? What did you do?”
Denz lowered his arms and walked toward the couch. “I made it clear he’d better not do it again.”
Claire watched as he donned the sling, wincing as he fit the strap over his head. “You’re never going to heal if you keep hurting yourself and working like that.”
A small smile stole over his handsome face and he met her gaze.
“I thought you were angry with me.”
“I am. You have no right—”
“I do, actually.”
“How on earth do you figure that?”
“Claire, I have a job because kids like that grow up to be men who can’t control their anger. They hurt the people around them, or they stalk someone because they can’t handle reality. All of those raging hormones and all of that anger need to be channeled into something fast, before Tommy self-destructs.”
She deflated at his words, knowing it was true. “I don’t… He’s different now. He wasn’t like that before his dad… I’m not sure how to handle it,” she said softly. “But he’s never done that before. He’s never hurt me.”
“Maybe not. But now that he has, the next time won’t be as big a deal.”
“It was a one-time thing. I’m sure of it.”
Oh, the way Denz stared at her. The look he gave her.
“Are you? Because it’s not just you we’re talking about here. It could be a future girlfriend or a violent incident at his school.”
No. “Stop. Please. Tommy’s not going to hurt anyone.”
“He already did—you.”
She sank onto the arm of the couch, legs weak.<
br />
“Claire—”
She got up and turned away again, moving toward the window to stare down at Tommy below. “Before Scott died, Tommy was a straight-A student who never got into trouble. This year? He barely passed and was suspended three times. He’s fallen into the wrong group of friends, won’t do what he’s told. That’s why we had to cancel our visit a few weeks ago. He had to serve his punishment.”
“So that’s why you’re here,” he said softly. “It’s not for a simple visit or vacation.”
She closed her eyes, shook her head.
“I can talk to him.”
She glanced at Denz and frowned. “Like you did earlier?”
“If that’s what it takes. Look, Claire, you can’t let this continue. You have to set him straight now.”
“You sound like my father.”
“Does Tom know any of this?”
“Only that Tommy is struggling. N-nothing else. Dad told me that if you had to take Tommy to task, something big must have happened and I needed to do something.”
“You know he’s right.”
“Telling Dad about Tommy getting suspended is one thing, but I can’t tell Dad that Tommy…” She lifted her arm slightly to indicate the bruises.
“Your father might surprise you.”
“Maybe. Or he could get rougher with Tommy than you did, and that’s not something I’m okay with.”
“You don’t want them fighting. I get it. Tom knows I handled something, though. And that I’ll do it again if needed.”
If needed? “I’ll talk to Tommy. I-I just… I don’t know what to do,” she said softly, the words bitter in their truth. “I ground Tommy and he sneaks out. I drop him off at school and watch him go in the front door only to get a call later that he’s skipped because he’s walked out after I left. He’s completely and totally obsessed with that game system. It holds the most leverage, but when I take that away, he freaks out.”
“That was the cause of the fight this morning?”
“Yeah. I went to wake him up and discovered that he’d stolen the system out of my room. When I told him he’d lost it for another month, he…grabbed me. We fought and he took it.”