Meet Me in Barefoot Bay

by Roxanne St Claire

  The tailwind that got the flight across country by dawn East Coast time turned out to be a cold front that left all of southwest Florida in a mist of cool rain, snarling up traffic even at this crazy early hour.

  Was it Will’s imagination or was the causeway just more crowded than usual?

  Next to him Coco stirred, finally taking off the baseball cap and sunglasses she’d kept on since before he’d returned his rental car at LAX. Must be the standard L.A. disguise, he mused, thinking of Jocelyn and her designer cap.

  Coco had slept almost the whole flight, stayed pretty quiet when she woke, and had been remarkably ignored by almost everyone.

  Of course the way Will looked at anyone who came within five feet of her kept any curious celebrity hunters at bay.

  “You sure she’ll be here?” Coco asked as his truck rumbled over the causeway toward Mimosa Key. “Because I will not do this without Jocelyn.”

  He didn’t respond, weaving through way more traffic than he’d have expected at this time of the morning.

  “You are sure, aren’t you?” she pressed.

  “I’m not sure of anything,” he said honestly.

  “Except that you love her.”

  He shot a surprised look at her. “That obvious?”

  For the first time, she laughed softly. “Maybe you should step back and review your behavior for the past day. Have you even slept? No, you’ve just flown cross-country—twice—and threw yourself at the mercy of a woman you’ve never met, sucker-punched a movie star, and kidnapped me to—”

  “I didn’t kidnap you,” he shot back. “You were ready to leave him.”

  “I thought I had. Then I took him back. I’m done now.”

  “What finally changed your mind?”

  She let out a dramatic sigh. “You.”

  “Because I beat up your husband?”

  “Because you love Jocelyn enough to do what you did. I want that,” she said simply. “I saw it in action and it wasn’t in a movie script. It was real. I want that for me.”

  “Then you should go find it.”

  “This is the first step, big crazy lover boy.”

  He grinned at her. “You think I’m crazy?”

  “I do, which makes you absolutely perfect for Jocelyn, in my opinion.”

  “Why, because her role in life is to fix crazy people and make them better?”

  “No, because she’s a nutcase herself.”

  He took his eyes from the road to glance at her. “Are we talking about the same woman? I’ve never met a person more sane than Jocelyn.”

  “With the compulsive list making?”

  He laughed softly. “Yeah, she’s a list maker, but that doesn’t make her crazy. It makes her organized and gives her a sense of control.” And he loved that about her.

  “And the neatness?”

  “Like I said, control and organization. She’s not OCD.”

  “Borderline. And, sorry, but there is nothing sane about hanging on to your virginity into your thirties.”

  He slammed on the brakes, getting a deafening horn from the poor guy behind him. “What?”

  “You didn’t know?”

  A few white lights popped in the back of his head, blinding him momentarily.

  Jocelyn had never slept with anyone?

  That wasn’t possible. That wasn’t normal. And that wasn’t true anymore, even if this woman had her facts straight, which he sincerely doubted she did. “I don’t think she’s the kind of woman to talk about that to her friends.”

  “Oh, we talked about it. She talked about everything with me.”

  Probably not everything, but he wouldn’t be the one to share her secrets.

  “I know about her dad.”

  Okay, maybe everything. He flipped the wipers up a notch as they passed through a band of heavy rain. “He only… only beat her once,” he said, hearing the shame in his voice. Did she know Will’s role in that spectacular night?

  “Once was all it took to freeze her up in the sex department.”

  He slipped around a slow-moving van, spraying water as the end of the causeway beckoned. And, he hoped, the end of this conversation. “I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”

  He prayed she didn’t, anyway. Not that he didn’t like the idea of being the only man who’d ever made love to her, but had he played a role in stealing that from her, too? Guilt pummeled his chest.

  “I know what she said. Her old man damn near killed the guy she was fooling around with. Her dad—he’s one for the books, isn’t he? Anyway, she told me he caught her with the guy and beat the holy hell out of her. Called her a whore over and over again. With each punch, he said it again—”

  “Stop it.” He pounded the steering wheel, his eyes stinging. “Just… stop it.”

  “Oh my God, it was you.” She reached over and grabbed his arm. “You were the guy she was with that night. She never told me it was Baseball Boy, just… a guy.”

  Of course not, because she was still protecting him. He shook off her hand, gritting his teeth in silence while new waves of hate rolled over him. Remorse and regret roiled through his stomach, making him sick.

  “She never told me his name,” Coco continued, on a roll now. “She was just, you know, trying like hell to convince me to leave Miles when the whole story came pouring out of her. And I… I couldn’t just walk. I was chicken and so she came up with this fake affair for me. She let me save face and him, too. We hoped that would be enough to…”

  “To what?”

  “Keep him away from me.”

  He grunted. “That’s what restraining orders are for.”

  She just shook her head and shifted in her seat. “Jocelyn’s one in a million, you know?”

  God, he knew. Fifteen years. That was a damn long time to be alone. Too long.

  As if he could cut some of that time short, he smashed on the accelerator and fishtailed a little as he swerved through more traffic.

  “Holy shit!” She dove down like someone had shot through the windshield, fighting to get her seat belt undone.

  “What’s the matter?” He looked at the car next to them, right into a telephoto lens. “What the hell?”

  “Just drive. Fast!” She pushed onto the floor, scrambling for her hat and sunglasses. “How much farther?”

  “We’re almost there.” But the dark van slid right behind them, on their tail, and stayed there until he turned onto Sea Breeze and hit the brakes one more time to stare at the spectacle that made absolutely no sense. Except that it did.

  “Um, Coco.”

  She didn’t move from her hiding place below the dashboard. “What?”

  “About that press conference.”

  “What about it?”

  “I think it started without you.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  They were drenched by the time Jocelyn managed to get Guy back to the dock where she’d found the kayak. The whole deal took well over an hour since the kayak was built for one. She managed to squeeze them both in, keeping him calm, getting him in and out of the water, tenderly helping his bug-bitten body make the short journey.

  By now she’d have expected the kayak owners to be awake, but all of the houses seemed unnaturally empty. And quiet. Still, someone was making noise. She could hear voices—quite a few, in fact.

  Jocelyn put her arm around Guy and guided him across the grass.

  “You’re going to be okay,” she promised, leading him along a thick six-foot hedge of hibiscus trees that blocked the view of the street and his house. “We’ll get some ointment on those—”

  The voices suddenly grew even louder, almost like a crowd screaming in the stands at a game, making them both slow their step.

  “What was that?” Guy asked, clinging tighter to her.

  “I don’t…” But deep inside, she did know. Deep inside, she knew exactly what they were going to find when they reached the street. Reporters. Cameras. Paparazzi.

  “Guy,
I have to tell you something.”

  He didn’t answer as he navigated the wet grass and drizzle that smeared his glasses.

  “I need you to brace yourself for when we get to the street.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…” She took him a few steps farther, the crowd noise rising up as if they already saw her, the constant clicking of cameras like a serenade of crickets, a few voices shouting, the words impossible to make out. Neighbors she recognized gathered in small groups outside their houses, some still in bathrobes, some with cameras of their own.

  “There she is!” someone yelled.

  “With that man!”

  Jocelyn turned left and right, confused. No one was pointing at her. No reporters came running at them. She took a few more steps and rounded the shrubbery to get a view of Guy’s house.

  “Oh, my word, Missy, look!” Guy practically stumbled as he pulled her forward and they saw the crowd covering her front lawn and driveway and spilling into the street.

  “I know, Guy, I know.”

  He turned to her and threw his arms around her. “You did it, girl!” He knocked his glasses to the ground but didn’t even notice, practically jumping up and down. “You got the crowds here for the yard sale! Look at all the cameras!”

  She couldn’t help laughing at his exuberance and the pure innocence of his assumption. “Guess we did, Guy.” She dipped down to get his glasses, wiping them with the hem of her shirt, which didn’t help at all but gave her a second to collect her thoughts as she peered past him at the pack of reporters.

  Why were the cameras all pointed toward the street, where a truck slowly—

  Not a truck. Will’s truck. Chills exploded over her skin as she covered her mouth in shock. “Oh my God, he’s back.”

  “William?” Guy greedily grabbed his glasses. “I knew it! I knew he’d come back to me. He always does. Like… like… like one of the Austrian toys.”

  “Australian.”

  “What are they called?”

  She just smiled, an inexplicable happiness washing over her like the rain. “Boomerang.” Or Bloom-erang.

  You always come back to me.

  “But his interview…” Was today. Her words were lost in the breeze and crowd noise as the truck slowed in front of the house, unable to get in the driveway.

  “Come on.” Guy tugged at her, running on pure adrenaline now. “We gotta get over there.”

  “Wait.” The media rushed the truck, surrounding it, shouting questions, pounding on the hood. Did they think she was in there?

  Will parked on the street just as the front door of the house opened and about a half dozen sheriff’s deputies came marching out of Guy’s house. They dispersed the crowd and stationed themselves in a protective pathway to the car.

  All for Will?

  Didn’t the media realize the person they wanted was right behind them, standing out in the open? Obviously not, which gave her a chance to change her plan. She had Guy now; there was no reason to make her public plea.

  Just then, the crowd roar erupted as Will got out of the truck, rounding to the other side, shouting at the cameramen. A few more deputies surrounded the truck, one opening the passenger door to help someone out.

  Oh, not someone. Coco.

  For a moment Jocelyn couldn’t speak. Shock and disbelief stole her breath and crushed her lungs. Coco Kirkman was here? With Will?

  Why?

  The press shouted questions, but Will and one of the deputies flanked Coco, who held up her hand in a plea for space. Will shouted at the reporters, but Jocelyn couldn’t catch the words over the noise. She’d make a statement? Was that what he said?

  Next to her, Guy just shook his head, then patted her back lovingly. “Gotta hand it to you, Missy. I’ve never seen a yard sale like this one.”

  Neither had she. “Let’s go through the neighbor’s yard, Guy. Let’s get around the back and into the house through the pool patio. No one will even notice us.” Not with a superstar like Coco headed in the front door.

  He blinked at her. “Why?”

  “So we can…” She rooted around her brain for a reason that would get him to move. “Meet the hostess. That’s who they’re bringing inside.”

  “Nicey?”

  She urged him across the street, ignoring the strange looks from the neighbors. “Not this time, Guy. Her name is Coco. And I cannot wait to hear what she has to say.”

  “She’s gone. And so is her father.”

  Will blamed sleep deprivation on his brain’s refusal to process what Lacey said when they got Coco inside the house.

  Coco processed it, though, and instantly started to whine. “I can’t make any statements without her!”

  “Wait a minute. Wait.” Will held up a hand to silence her, just as he caught Guy’s picture in the middle of the TV screen with some reporter talking. What the hell?

  A bad, bad feeling crept through his gut, but he tamped it down and stayed focused on Lacey and Clay. “Where are they?” he demanded.

  “We don’t know.” Clay said, a protective arm around Lacey, who looked pale and as stressed out as Coco, only she was quieter about it.

  “I have to talk to Jocelyn,” Coco insisted. “I’m not going out there until I talk to her. I have to—”

  Zoe swept in and practically scooped the actress away, and Tessa instantly leaped to Coco’s other side.

  “Let’s get you in the back and calmed down, Ms. Kirkman,” Tessa said.

  “Yeah,” Zoe added, leaning close to Coco. “ ’Cause, honey, you could really use a little makeup before you get in front of any cameras.”

  Will shot them a grateful look and turned back to Lacey, Clay, and Slade. “Someone tell me what the hell is going on.”

  As they explained, only certain words really took hold. Guy had been missing since yesterday. Woke up and Jocelyn was gone. Silver Alert got the media here.

  And they had plenty of questions of their own, but the need to find Jocelyn and Guy shot like liquid mercury through his veins.

  “We have to find them,” he said simply, marching to the door, ready to take on every damn reporter and an army of deputies to get his woman back. And her father.

  Damn it, they all belonged together. They all—

  “William!”

  He froze at the sound, the punch of relief making his gut drop. He turned toward the patio to see Guy hobbling across the grass with Jocelyn next to him, both of them soaked, bedraggled, filthy, and absolutely the most beautiful sight Will had ever seen.

  Ignoring the noisy reaction of the others in the room, Will strode to the sliding glass door and threw it open, running across the patio and practically tearing the screen door off its hinges to wrap these two people he loved so damn much in his arms.

  Guy might have sobbed and Jocelyn let out a soft, sweet moan, but for the space of one breath of joy they all held each other and no one said a word. They just stood together in complete union.

  Finally Guy pushed away. “Where’s Nicey?”

  “What the hell happened to your face?” Guy was covered with welts, his glasses damn near collapsed, his clothes filthy and wet.

  Jocelyn was just as wet, her face streaked with dirt and tears. “He spent the night on an island in the canal,” she said, her voice cracking. “He got… lost.” She closed her eyes and dropped her head against Will’s chest. “We have to take care of him. Please, Will. Please don’t put him in a—”

  “Shhh.” He quieted her with a kiss on her wet head and a finger to her lips. “We won’t. I promise. We won’t.”

  “Where’s this hostess?” Guy broke away from them and started toward the house. Will turned to follow, but Jocelyn grabbed him by the shoulders.

  “Will, he isn’t the same man.”

  “I know,” he admitted. “And neither am I.”

  She frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

  “No more waiting. From now on, I act. And don’t be too surprised, but I brought someo
ne back from L.A. with me. She wants to come clean, clear your name, and help other abused women. You don’t have to live this lie for her anymore, Joss.”

  “Oh, Will.” She leaned into him for another embrace. “I can’t believe you did that. I can’t believe…” She pulled away, searched his face, confusion making her frown. “What about the coaching job?”

  He snorted. “I turned that down before I left Mimosa Key. I’m not going to L.A., I’m staying right here, building things that last. Like villas and houses and a life with you.”

  She put her hand on her mouth like she couldn’t contain her happiness. “Here?”

  “Right here.” He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her. “Right here where you belong, Bloomerang.”

  She answered with a salty, sweet, straight-from-the-heart kiss on his lips.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Will took over caring for Guy while the five women somehow squeezed into the hallway bathroom Jocelyn had often locked herself in during Guy’s episodes, shaking with fear, hating her life, wishing him dead.

  Coco was the one shaking with fear now, perched on the toilet seat so Lacey could fix her hair and Zoe could apply makeup. Tessa leaned against the counter, making notes for Coco’s speech.

  Jocelyn crouched on the floor, holding the actress’s tiny hands.

  “You don’t have to do this, Coco.”

  Coco looked down. “Yes I do.”

  “But you do have to look at me,” Zoe insisted. “Unless you are willing to settle for less-than-perfect makeup.”

  Coco complied. “And I want to do this, Joss,” she added. “Not just for you, not just for me, but for every woman who’s ever been trapped in an awful situation.”

  “Great opening line,” Tessa said, scratching on paper.

  “Thanks,” Coco said. “I came up with that on the plane.”

  “You don’t need lines.” Jocelyn squeezed Coco’s hands gently. “You just have to talk from the heart.”

  “I’m an actress. I need lines.”

  “You’re a woman, just like us,” Jocelyn told her. “And if you want to be heard, you will have to look at the camera and speak honestly. And, honey, you have to be prepared for backlash.”