Barefoot in the Sand (34 page)

Pleasure jolted as she sucked, holding him like he was precious to her. Loving him with her mouth and kisses, giving everything just for his satisfaction. The act, as
sexual and hot and mind-blowing as anything, suddenly felt like so much more.

Like she was giving him all the comfort he needed, with her mouth and hands and heart.

She licked again, closed her eyes, and slowly, lovingly, sweetly ministered her special brand of comfort. He relaxed into the sensation, letting the thrill of release build and grow and overpower every other thought or feeling.

He lost any shred of control, an orgasm kicking through him, squeezing him until he called out, torturing him while he grew stiffer and more helpless. Sweat tingled and blood pumped and raw, pure, intense pleasure punched through his body until he finally let go of everything. Everything but Lacey. He clung to her shoulders, her feathery silken curls, and spilled into her mouth.

Closing her eyes, she coaxed the very last drop out of him until they both fell back on the bed. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see straight, couldn’t talk.

“Clay.” She stroked his skin, her delicate touch like a firebrand over the sheen of sweat.

“Mmmm.”

“I need to know something.”

Of course she did. She needed to know why he had been upset on the phone. She needed to know how he really felt about her. She needed to know when this thing had gone from purely sexual to wildly emotional.

“I just don’t know if I can tell you what you need to know, Lace,” he said, his voice still raspy from the heavy breathing. But he had to. He had to be straight with her. “But I’ll try.”

“What are the drawings under your bed?”

He turned to face her. “You looked at them?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “Not really, but I thought I could use the paper for shelf liner.”

He didn’t want her to see those sketches. “I have some extra paper like that you can use.”

“But what are they?”

“Just ideas I have.”

“For what?”

He waited for his heart to slow before he answered, carefully choosing his words. “They are ideas for things I might build in the future.”

She studied his face, definitely not sold on that. “Things that include Ashley?”

So she
had
looked at them. “They’re personal,” he said, a little more gruffly than he meant.

She leaned up on one elbow. “If they include my daughter, they’re not personal.”

“I told you, I draw what I visualize. It’s the curse of an overactive imagination.”

“You visualize Ashley with a hammer?”

Was that all she’d seen? It had to be. If she’d seen the rest of those drawings, the one with Ashley hammering a two-by-four would be the least interesting to her. “I expect Ashley to have a role in building the resort and your house, don’t you?”

“I hope so,” she finally said.

“Well, that’s all those pictures are. Memories of moments that haven’t happened yet. You know, if I see something well enough to draw it, I can make it happen.”

“What else do you see?” The question was tentative, a little scared, and full of hope.

“Right now I’m trying to visualize how you can
make ribbons out of chocolate. Why don’t you show me and then we can come back in here and…”
Go ahead, man, say the thing you cannot say
. “Make love.” He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Can you visualize that, Strawberry?”

Because he could. He could visualize it all too clearly.

L
ater that afternoon, when Clay pulled up to Julia Brewer’s house, Lacey dipped her head to peer at the minivan in the driveway. “Well, it looks like we’re a lot less than six degrees away from Paula Reddick, town council member.” She gingerly shifted the chocolate ruffle cake on her lap. “She’s inside. Want to come in and charm her?”

He shook his head, opening his door. “I have to call my sister back and ask her about something else while you take the cake in. But hang on. I’ll help you get it out.”

Lacey’s heart slipped a little as he climbed from the truck. The afternoon had been amazing. They’d finished the cake, fallen into bed, and spent the last hour in the shower. And yet he still hadn’t told her what had had upset him so much about the phone call with his sister, and she didn’t want to whine or beg.

Maybe he didn’t trust her, or maybe it wasn’t that big
a deal. But, Lord, he’d
cried
. Something had upset him pretty badly.

Jayna?

She crushed the name when it popped into her head. There was no room for ex-girlfriend jealousy in her head or heart. For crying out loud, David was living with her and Clay wasn’t acting jealous. But he had gotten off the phone pretty worked up for sex.

No.
Don’t think that way
.

He popped open the door and reached in for the cake. “You did an amazing job on this, Lacey.”

“I hope they like it. My business has come to a screeching halt since the storm.” She stepped down from the running board and took the cake he held. “Be right back.”

“Take your time.”

So he could call…

Don’t go there, Lacey
. Don’t make excuses where none exist. She headed up to the house gripping her ruffle cake with care, grateful when Julia opened the front door and she didn’t have to knock.

“Hey, Lacey,” Julia said. “How’d the cake come out?”

Lacey looked down at the nest of chocolate ribbons on the cake tucked in a topless box. “Pretty good, I think.”

“Wow, would you look at that?”

Smiling at her creation, Lacey lifted it higher. “Yep, it’s nice.”

“I meant that guy outside.”

Lacey followed Julia’s gaze, catching a glimpse of Clay leaning against the truck, on the phone. “Oh.” She laughed. “That’s Clay. My…”
Lover. Boyfriend. Main squeeze
. “Architect.”

“He can build me a house anytime.”

“Lacey’s not building a house,” a woman around the corner said. Paula Reddick stepped into the entryway, as tiny and trim as she’d been when she’d taught PE at Mimosa High. “She’s building a posh resort.”

“It’s not…” Yes, it was. Posh and a resort. “It’s still in the planning stages, as you know. Hi, Paula.”

Paula gave a quick smile. “Don’t worry, Lace. I like the idea. Charity Grambling may kill me in my sleep, but you have my vote.”

“Thanks,” she said, handing the cake to Julia. “Keep it chilled until the shower tomorrow.”

“Let me go get your check, Lacey.”

When she left, Paula moved closer to the front door, peering over Lacey’s shoulder. “Did you guys work out his shady past?”

“It’s not that shady,” Lacey replied. “He’s clean.”

“Looks dirty.” Paula grinned. “In a fun way.”

Lacey just laughed softly. Oh, if Paula only knew how Lacey had spent her afternoon.

“What’s your plan to counteract Charity’s flyer campaign?”

Lacey drew back, surprised. “What flyer campaign?”

“Get thee into town, m’dear. You’re up against a street team of people trying to stop you before you start. They’re all under her wrinkled old thumb.”

Lacey sighed as Julia returned with a check. “Thanks for the business, Julia. And for the warning, Paula. Guess I’ll head into town and see how bad the damage is.”

As she came out, Clay hung up the phone and opened the door for her. “All set?”

“Maybe not yet. We have to head into town now.”

On the way there she explained what Paula had told
her, zeroing in on a bright yellow flyer with bold black letters as soon as they got to Ms. Icey’s, an ice cream parlor on the outskirts of Mimosa Key’s undersized downtown.

SAVE MIMOSA KEY!

Stop all zoning modifications!

Be heard at the Town Council meeting on September 15 at 10:00 AM!

Don’t let progress replace pristine!

“Pull over, Clay. I’ll grab it.” She climbed out of the car, marching into the store to ask Bernadette Icey to take it down, barely noticing a group of teens at a corner table.

“Mom!” Ashley’s voice broke through the laughter.

Lacey glanced at the group, all of their faces unfamiliar to her but one. “Ashley, what are you doing here?”

She popped up and threaded through a few empty tables to get to Lacey. “We just came in for ice cream. What are
you
doing here?” Her eyes were bright, her color high. She definitely hadn’t been expecting Lacey to walk in.

Lacey looked at the kids again. “Who are they?”

“Just my new friends. Some of them live down south near us, so I’m getting to know some other people.”

“Where’s Meagan?”

“Oh, Mom, Meagan is turning into such a—”

“Is that Tiffany Osborne?”

Ashley hushed her, blocking the view. “Mom, you don’t have to say her name like that. She’s not some kind of pothead.”

But Lacey wasn’t sure of that. “I have to get that flyer in the window down. Is Bernadette here?”

“Miss Icey?” Ashley turned. “No, but that kid’s the manager.”

Behind the counter a sixteen-year-old was texting.
“Then he won’t care if I do this.” Lacey slipped behind the front table and ripped down the yellow flyer. “Go get your stuff, Ashley.”

“What? Why can’t I stay?”

“Because I don’t know these kids.” Weak argument, but Lacey had a bad feeling. And Ashley wasn’t exactly dragging her over to meet them all.

“Hey, Ash!” A boy with swooping bangs and skinny shoulders called out. “Move your ash back here.” The entire table hooted with laughter.

Ashley’s cheeks flamed. “Shut up, Matt.”

Lacey almost reprimanded her for saying shut up, mostly out of habit, but honestly, that felt like the least of her problems. “Get your stuff and let’s go,” she whispered. “Now.”

“Mom, why?”

“Because…”
I said so
was just lame and this was not the time or place to make her point. She lifted the flyer. “I need your help getting rid of these. They’re all over town.”

“What are they?” Ashley took the flyer and read. “What the…”

“So get your bag and let’s go,” Lacey ordered with enough force that Ashley didn’t argue.

“Gimme a sec. I’ll meet you outside.”

Lacey was waiting in the truck considering all the ways this could go when Ashley came out of Ms. Icey’s and narrowed her eyes.

“Why is he here?” she asked, yanking open the door to the back cab. “I thought we were going alone.”

Lacey ignored the question and whipped around to face her daughter. “I don’t want you hanging out with those kids.”

“Mom, they’re fine. Honest.”

“I don’t like them.”

“You don’t know them.”

“Then bring them home.”

She snorted. “We don’t have a home.”

Lacey and Clay shared a silent look, and then Lacey let it drop.

They saw about fifteen more flyers on the way through the few streets that made up downtown Mimosa Key, taped to the locally owned storefronts and the old iron light posts that lined the main streets. Every time they spotted another one, either Lacey or Ashley got out to rip it down. With each sighting Ashley grew more indignant.

“This is so wrong!” she said when she climbed in after taking one off the railing by the harbor. “I knew Charity Grambling was a b-word, but this is so unfair!”

“Charity and her friends see our project as competition for their business, and it’s a free country. They can fight us,” Lacey said.

“Let them lose everything they have and see how they feel.”

“You know what?” Clay said, taking an unexpected turn north. “I have an idea.”

“Make our own street team and plaster some flyers all over town?” Ashley replied. “ ’Cause my friends would totally get behind me on this.”

“I have the plans,” he said quietly to Lacey. “They’re under my seat.”

The plans to the new house?