Meet Me in Barefoot Bay

by Roxanne St Claire

  “I have what your lawyer needs. Trust me.” Clay handed him the form.

  Standing in a strip of shade, Ira opened the letter and read it. “I have to tell you, first of all, I’m very sorry about your father’s stroke.”

  Clay nodded his thanks.

  “How is he?”

  “He’s alive.” Why lie? He might not be long for the world, and if he made it, he wasn’t ever going to run a business or design a building again. “The second stroke was actually a blessing because it pulled him out of the coma and he could communicate.”

  Ira used the paper to fan himself, beads of sweat dampening his lip. “He didn’t know you were involved when his company bought the land; you know that, don’t you?”

  “That’s what he said.” Although part of Clay suspected nefariousness on his father’s part, he and Darcie had been able to put the pieces together, and it looked like Dad really had had no idea of Clay’s involvement when he’d sent the scout who’d determined that the properties made a great purchase.

  “After that last meeting,” Ira continued, “I was confused. I couldn’t understand why Walker Architecture was staying anonymous when someone with the same name was already involved.”

  “You told him?” Clay asked.

  “I struggled with it; I’ll be honest.” Ira took out a white handkerchief and dabbed his damp forehead. “I figured it was a family feud and I oughta back out. So I didn’t say anything for a while, but then I got wind of some of the stuff going on over here and I contacted the company.”

  “Why didn’t he just terminate the deal?”

  “Well, I don’t want to make you feel guilty, son, but that day he had a medical, uh, situation.”

  So C-dub hadn’t lied about that at least.

  “I guess his health became his focus then.” Ira dug into his bag and produced a massive amount of paper that would take at least twenty minutes to sign. Even though it meant he’d miss Lacey’s presentation, he took the time because when he walked in there he wanted this deal done. No lies, no promises, no more misunderstandings.

  When he put his last signature on the bottom line, Clayton Walker—the younger Clayton Walker—owned both parcels of land and he could do whatever he wanted on them. And, God, he knew what he wanted to do.

  They shook hands and Clay couldn’t resist giving the man a quick pat on the back. “You went above and beyond, Mr. Howell. All that work last night and early this morning to prepare this paperwork was outstanding. Thank you.”

  “Use my bank for this resort you’re planning.”

  Clay grinned. “We will.” The word “we” sounded so right and natural. Now all he had to do was make it so.

  He walked inside, where Lacey stood beside the 3-D model of their resort, the main-building front-elevation board propped up next to her.

  “Right here you can see how we…” She hesitated when her gaze landed on Clay, color rising to her cheeks. “How I propose to handle that.”

  So she rightly suspected the worst. And judging from the way she looked, she’d had a rough night. Guilt punched, but he knew it was just a matter of a few more minutes. He could wait that long.

  He’d waited his whole life for her, so what was a few more minutes?

  “How’s she doing?” he whispered to Darcie when he sat down.

  “Really well. You get ’er done out there?” Darcie asked.

  He held up the packet of papers. “I’m the proud owner of ten acres of Barefoot Bay.”

  “And Dad paid for them.”

  “In more ways than one,” he said. “Has she been through the feasibility and due diligence research yet?”

  “Easily. She’s just covering the physical buildings now.”

  Lacey spoke with confidence and pride when she described the villas, the spa, the greenhouse that Tessa wanted so much, even though they weren’t sure they could fit it without the other properties.

  Now they could. Now they could do so many things, including pick up where they’d left off. Just the thought of Lacey in his arms, in his bed, in his life, made Clay smile.

  “Somebody’s in love,” Darcie sang into his ear.

  Clay just grinned more broadly. Somebody was in love.

  Around him the audience was as riveted on Lacey as he was, even those who looked unfriendly to change. But where was Ashley? And Tessa and Zoe? And David?

  Why weren’t they here to support her?

  “And that,” Lacey concluded, turning to the long table of council members, “is why we believe that Mimosa Key can benefit from the world-class, wholly environmentally friendly, revenue-producing, state-of -the-art resort known as Windswept at Barefoot Bay.”

  Windswept at Barefoot Bay?

  Stunned at the name change, he felt his jaw, and his heart, drop with a thud. Only then did she look directly at him, and that expression said everything. An expression that said: I don’t need you, Clay Walker.

  “Hold all questions, please!” George Masterson shouted. “Our next presenter is from Clayton Walker Architecture and Design, and his plans will make all of these null and void.”

  Lacey closed her eyes as if George’s words had kicked her right in the teeth, but Clay was the one who felt kicked. Now she thought he represented his old man. He had to fix this, and fix it fast.

  Clay made his way up the aisle with nothing but the packet of property papers in his hands. Lacey stepped away from the podium, turning her back on him to gather her presentation boards.

  He stopped behind her, leaning a little too close, feeling her stiffen. But he had no time to set her straight now. Instead he put a hand on her tense shoulder.

  “Pay attention, Strawberry. I mean everything I’m about to say.”

  As long as she didn’t leave the room, Lacey Armstrong was about to find out exactly how he felt about her.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  With control she didn’t even know she possessed, Lacey turned away from her presentation boards and walked toward the back of the room. She wanted to leave, of course. Wanted to run into the bathroom and howl in pain or possibly throw up.

  But she refused to give him that satisfaction.

  Her father was in the back row clapping for her. She gave him a smile and was about to sit next to him when the back doors opened.

  “Mom!”

  Zoe and Tessa each had one of Ashley’s hands, and all three wore huge smiles. Ashley’s head was still bandaged, but her eyes looked clear and her smile lit up the room.

  “Did we miss it?” she asked as Lacey hugged her and led them all to the back wall.

  “I’m done. But brace yourself. Things are about to get ugly.”

  “What’s he doing up there?” they asked in unison.

  “I’m not entirely sure, but he might be breaking my heart.”

  They all leaned against the back wall to listen.

  “Jeez, he looks worse than you do,” Zoe whispered. “And that’s saying a lot.”

  “He does,” Tessa agreed. “He looks like he hasn’t slept for days.”

  He looked good to Lacey. Disheveled, unshaven, and was that a coffee stain on his T-shirt? None of it mattered. He was a gorgeous man, who loved…

  She glanced at the woman in a baseball cap, who turned and looked right at Lacey. Then she slid off her glasses very slowly to reveal eyes as bloodshot as Clay’s and also as blue.

  The other woman nodded, and winked. Was that a bitchy move or what? Except it didn’t seem as though she was trying to be bitchy.

  More confused than ever, Lacey turned back to Clay, her head buzzing like a thousand cicadas invading the beach.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of Mimosa Key. My name is Clay Walker and I’m delighted to be addressing you as the newest resident of your fine community.” He held up a handful of legal-sized papers and Lacey tried to concentrate on what he was saying, not the baritone of his voice or the music of his North Carolina drawl. “These are the deeds to the properties formerly owned by Mr. and Mrs. Andrew To
mlinson and Mr. Ross Everham. They are now in my name, free and clear.”

  He owned the lots. He did. The betrayal stung like hot needles inside her chest. But she forced herself to listen.

  “What do you plan to build?” Charity called out.

  Good question, Char, Lacey thought. What did he plan to build?

  “Something extraordinary.”

  The whole room went eerily silent, except for maybe Lacey’s heartbeat, which surely everyone could hear.

  “What kind of something, Mr. Walker?” Mayor Lennox asked, obviously not amused by Clay’s obtuse response.

  Clay never looked away from Lacey, pinning her to the wall with a dead-serious gaze. “Something everyone wants but not everyone gets.”

  Lacey’s legs weakened and she used the wall to hold her steady. What was he talking about? He was looking at her, but…

  Sam Lennox spoke into his microphone because the murmurs and comments and frustrations of the crowd were getting louder. “Mr. Walker, we have given you the floor, and if you can’t make a serious and thoughtful presentation, your request for zoning changes will be denied.”

  “I am making a serious presentation. This land”—he held up the papers again—“will be part of the resort and spa that Lacey Armstrong just presented. With one minor stipulation.”

  Lacy held her breath.

  “The resort is called Casa Blanca.” He leveled her with a gaze. “Not Windswept.”

  Oh. She dropped an inch against the wall, bracing harder.

  “What difference does it make?” Charity barked. “Just tell us what you want.”

  “What I want…” He inhaled deeply and finally smiled. “Is to spend every day and night with Lacey Armstrong, building…”

  She absolutely couldn’t breathe, holding his gaze, squeezing Ashley’s hand, fighting the burn behind her eyelids.

  “A life together.”

  “Oh my God,” Zoe practically cooed in Lacey’s ear. “I love him!”

  “So do I,” Lacey whispered, aware of the tears filling her eyes. “So do I.”

  “And if she would just come up here and join me”—Clay held out his hand in invitation—“we will answer any questions the good people of Mimosa Key might have so we can assure you that we want to make this island a destination that remains true to its roots but looks forward to the future.”

  “Amen!”

  “Hear! Hear!”

  “Go kiss him, Lacey!” The loud suggestion came from the woman in the baseball cap.

  Clay leaned very close to the microphone and lowered his voice to dead sexy. “I think my sister just had a very good idea.”

  His sister? That was Darcie?

  Ashley grinned, turning to her. “He likes you, Mom. A lot.”

  She looked at her daughter, putting a hand under her chin, holding her gaze. “You know that no man, ever, will come between us.”

  “Mom, don’t be weird. Go kiss the guy. Listen to this place. They’re going nuts.”

  The entire room clapped in unison, a chorus of female “Oohs” and “Aahs” adding to the cacophony.

  She started up the aisle, and Clay left the podium to meet her halfway.

  There, he put his arms around her and pulled her into a deep, dreamy, delicious kiss. The whole audience hooted so loudly she could barely hear when he whispered in her ear.

  “Windswept at Barefoot Bay? Are you kidding me?”

  She looked up at him. “Only because in Casablanca, the wrong guy gets the girl.”

  “Let’s change the ending, Strawberry.”

  When the last of the council members had cleared out after the vote and a noisy victory celebration, Clay shook hands with many townspeople and promised more than a few job interviews for construction-crew candidates. Even Ashley congratulated him and told him about her own scary trip to the hospital.

  Lacey was always nearby with a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, giving instructions to her friends as they packed up the car, accepting congratulations as people milled about the meeting hall and eventually left.

  He saw her talking to Darcie for a few minutes and then end that conversation with a quick hug.

  Finally he made his way over to her, hands outstretched. “Hey, Strawberry. I missed you.”

  She came right to him, folding into his embrace and offering one of her own. “Oh, Clay, I’m so sorry I thought the worst of you.”

  “I can’t believe you’d really think I’d buy those lots and build on them,” he said. “What made you think that?”

  “I didn’t. I mean, that’s not…” She closed her eyes as if just saying the words hurt her. “I looked at your phone the night we went to the beach. I thought you were going back to Jayna.”

  He let out a sigh, finally understanding. “And I should have told you why she texted. In fact, I should have told you my dad was sick before that, but I really thought you’d preach to me about forgiving him, and I wasn’t ready.”

  “Did you?” she asked.

  “Done and done.” He held her closer and put his lips on her hair and inhaled, the smell of strawberry mixed with sun and maybe a little antiseptic reminding him that she’d had her own trip to the hospital. “How’s Ashley doing?”

  “She’s fine and very apologetic for whatever it was she said to you that she thinks made you leave. But it was a hellish night, I’ll tell you.”

  He held her again, hoping the hug could express how sorry he was that the last twenty-four hours had happened the way they had.

  “I thought I’d lost you,” she whispered.

  “Not going to happen.”

  “Even after”—she fought to finish her thought—“even after we’re done building the resort?”

  “Did you not listen to my big speech?” He slammed a hand to his chest, only partially feigning pain. “I bared it all up there for you, woman.”

  “That wasn’t just to win votes?”

  “Maybe a few.” He winked, but then his expression grew serious. “I’ve had a lot of time to think, Lace.”

  “Thirteen hours, Darcie said.”

  He sighed, shaking his head, looking into her eyes. “Maybe more than that. But when I talked to my dad in the hospital yesterday, I realized something. I realized that he can be a complete jerk, selfish as hell, and willing to do almost anything for what he wants. A man who hates the word can’t.”

  “You’re not like him, if that’s where you’re going with this, Clay.”

  But he could be. “I let him go. I let go of all the anger and hate. I forgave him because there’s something—someone—I want to focus my attention on. You.”

  She sank deeper into his arms with a happy sigh. “Oh. I like that.”

  “I like you.” No. This time she deserved more than their inside joke. “In fact…” He lowered his mouth to hers, brushed his lips against hers, and whispered, “I—”

  “Ahem.”

  They separated, turning to face a woman who looked vaguely like Lacey, only older, thinner, colder, and nowhere near as happy.

  “Mother.”

  “I heard you got what you wanted, Lacey. That’s good.”

  Sure didn’t sound good. Not in that tone.

  “We got what we wanted,” Lacey corrected her, slowly standing straighter, dividing her attention between her mother and him. “Have you met my… Clay?”

  The older woman marched a few steps closer, an amber brown gaze leveled at Clay, the same color as Lacey’s but completely flat.

  “I’ve been with Ashley in the parking lot,” she said. “I don’t think she should be in the sun with that injury. So I let her go off with that Zoe, but—”

  “Clay Walker is the architect who is going to build the business I’ve always wanted to run. Clay, this is my mother, Marie Armstrong.”

  The woman sniffed, reaching out one hand to shake his, the other smoothing hair he’d never call “strawberry” blonde, although maybe a distant, dull cousin. “Then I guess congratulations are in order,” s
he conceded with a nod.

  “For Lacey,” he said. “She’s the owner, manager, lead investor, brain trust, and inspiration for the whole Casa Blanca concept.”

  A reddish brown eyebrow launched north. “I’m sure there are a lot of smart people behind her on this. Lacey’s a follower. Her brother Adam’s the leader in our family.”

  “Not anymore,” he said.

  Her mother ignored the comment. “Could I speak with you privately, Lacey?”

  “Later,” Lacey said. “Clay and I have to get that last model in the car and get—”

  “Now.”

  Lacey froze and a few fireworks of fury sparked inside Clay, but he kept his mouth shut.

  “What is it, Mother?”

  “Privately.”

  They faced each other like gunslingers while Clay debated if he should offer to leave. Before he could, Lacey put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of Clay,” she said. “He’s my… he’s my…”

  “I’m her partner,” he supplied, suddenly wishing he could use a term with far more impact and emotion attached.

  “I know what he is,” Marie said, cutting a cool glance his way. “And, Lacey, I think you’re entirely too old for this.”

  “For what?” Lacey asked with a soft cough of disbelief. “For a man? For a lover? For a business? For a life?”

  “For a boy.” She gestured toward Clay. “And you should be ashamed of yourself, taking advantage of a lonely older woman.”

  Clay started to laugh. A chuckle at first, then a full, sharp, from-the-gut laugh. “You’re funny, Mrs. Armstrong.”

  But Lacey wasn’t even smiling.

  “C’mon, Lace.” He reached for her hand. “Let’s go.”

  “No.” She pulled her hand away from him. “I don’t want to go, Clay.”

  No? Was she going to give in and let this cold, cruel woman do what she’d obviously been doing to Lacey her whole life? “Lacey?”

  “Very smart of you, honey.” The first bit of softness formed around Marie’s eyes, and a spark of satisfaction. “I knew you’d come to your senses.”

  “I have,” Lacey said softly.

  Disappointment curled through him, landing low and hard in his gut. Was she this weak? Had he misjudged her that much? A woman he was a breath away from loving?