Down for the Count (5 page)

“No. Not even a little bit. Hell, even if you were a nightmare of a friend and a terrible fiancée, it wouldn’t be your fault. He should’ve broken up with you if he didn’t want you.”

She laughed bitterly. “Thanks loads.”

“You didn’t let me finish.” He brushed away the tears on her cheeks with his thumb. “Thing is? I’ve known you a long time, and I know for a fact you were neither of those things. You were a great friend to Becca and a better woman than a guy like Marty could ever hope for. They don’t deserve you. Not him, and not her.”

She sniffled and swiped a hand over her eyes. “You say that, but you don’t even li—”

“Stop that. I like you fine. Hell, more than fine.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, but he hesitated for a beat too long, tracing the shell with his forefinger. Just that simple touch sent a shiver through her, and she pulled back.

“Lacey, I—”

The theme song from
Rocky
blared from the pocket of his shorts. He lowered his hand and stepped back. “That’s Cat.” He rolled his eyes. “And so you know, I didn’t program that song in—she did.”

Lacey nodded dumbly and stepped back, grateful for the reprieve. She didn’t know what kind of strange voodoo was going on with Galen, but this seemingly newfound awareness on his part was driving her nutty. How she felt about him had always been one-sided. Now the chemistry was crackling from all angles, and it scared the crap out of her.

Not that it mattered. Sure, it had hurt that Marty cheated. And sure, she was embarrassed and angry that someone she cared about had broken her trust. But even though she’d come to the not-so-stunning realization that she hadn’t been in love with him—and hadn’t been able to admit to herself until, underneath all the anger, she’d felt a nugget of relief yesterday in the linen closet—she was still a married woman. At least for as long as it took to get the annulment papers worked out. Just because he was a cheater didn’t mean she had to join him in the gutter. Dimly, she heard Galen saying his good-byes to his sister.

“How is everything going?” she asked as he disconnected. “Didn’t she want to talk to me?”

“Nope. She said to call her later. She contacted your mom and dad to let them know you came to Puerto Rico, so that’s taken care of.”

Lacey had forgotten that they’d called Cat last night to tell her their plan. Her friend had been all for it. Her only gripe was that she couldn’t join them because of the spring collection she had to finish putting together at work.

As Lacey contemplated what the call between Cat and her mother must have been like, she found herself grateful that she’d smashed her own phone to smithereens at the reception hall. She couldn’t imagine having that conversation right now.

“She also said that Marty’s been looking for you. She didn’t tell him where you were, but he wants you to call him.”

She snorted, and he shrugged.

“I’m only the messenger. For what it’s worth, Cat agrees with me one hundred percent. We both think you should stay.”

Nerves sent her heart pounding as she finally allowed herself to seriously consider that option. Could she do it? Throw caution to the wind and leave the mess of her ill-fated marriage to molder while she dove headlong into Puerto Rico? “I have to call my lawyer,” she hedged. “See about getting an annulment in the works.” It was a feeble argument. It would take one phone call to get the ball rolling and months to get through the red tape. She didn’t really need to go home for that. “And my dad. I wouldn’t put it past him to do something rash come Monday morning, and I can’t allow that.”

“Don’t think about me, or Cat, or Marty. Don’t think about your parents or what their snobby country club friends will say or what the board wants. What do
you
want to do, Lacey?” His eyes delved deep, searching for something she couldn’t name. She felt like she was standing on a precipice, and no matter which way she turned, she was going down hard. Changes were brewing, and it was up to her to navigate her own ship for once.

The question hung between them like prickly vines, and in the center, the answer dangled before her like a fat, ripe berry ready to drop. She wanted to stay. But if she did—and with Galen, no less—would she ever be able to fit back into the square-shaped hole she’d left behind?

And more importantly, did she even want to?

…

Galen could almost hear the slap of skin on skin as she wrestled with herself. He’d done his part and had made a vow to himself that he wouldn’t say another word. She needed to step up to the ropes here and decide—in or out. He wasn’t going to be another in the long line of puppeteers yanking her strings.

Just when he thought she was going to bail for the second time in twenty-four hours, she shocked him. Steeling her shoulders, she tipped her chin to meet his gaze. “Okay. I’ll stay.
If
I can talk my dad down some.”

It was what he wanted, so the fear nipping at the heels of his euphoria was a little confusing. He didn’t let on, though. She was one flimsy excuse from changing her mind, and he wasn’t about to give it to her. Why should being in close quarters with her scare him, anyway? He was a big boy, and he could handle it, even if he had to spend the next two weeks taking cold showers in order to do it.

He filed that problem under “shit to deal with later” and gave her a thumbs-up. “Excellent. Let’s eat, then you can call your lawyer and your father while I pack a bag. We’re going to the beach.”

She popped off a snotty salute. “Yes sir.”

They made short work of their light meal, and he handed his phone over so she could make her calls. He packed quickly and had just zipped the beach bag closed when she came into the bedroom a short while later, the crease in her brow less pronounced. That was a good sign.

“How did it go?”

“With my lawyer? Fine. He’s making some calls and getting things rolling. With my father?” She shrugged, handing his phone to him. “Better than I expected, actually. He’s furious with Marty, but he agreed to wait until I got back to make any decisions about the merger. Then he told me I’d better call my mother, because she’s flipping out. I made him promise not to give her this number and asked him to try to calm her down. He’s going to do his best.”

“Great. You look less stressed already.”

“I feel a little better. Like I can unplug for a while and maybe everything won’t fall apart around me worse than it already has.”

Now that he’d taken responsibility for her, he was determined to buttress the walls around her and even more determined to follow through and help her figure out who she was and what she wanted to do next with her life. It was a dangerous line to walk because, over the course of one day, he was already scarily attracted to her. As they spent more time together, he had the sneaking suspicion he was only going to want her more.

“Let’s hit the beach,” he said.

She nodded, but held out her hand for the bag. “Did you pack towels?”

“Of course.”

“Sunblock?”

“Yep.” He crossed his arms over his chest as she spent the next ten minutes pawing through the bag and reorganizing everything he’d packed. “You might be surprised to know that I’m a grown man who
has
packed a bag a time or two in his day.”

“I know that, but it’s better to spend a few minutes double-checking than getting down to the beach and realizing we forgot something.”

She must have heard the prissy tone in her voice because her cheeks turned pink and she zipped the bag closed. “Let’s just go.”

He chuckled and they stepped out the front door, locking it behind them. Lacey was double-checking the lock when a heavily accented voice called from down the pathway.

“Mr. and Mrs. Clemson?” A round young man dressed in a porter’s uniform huffed his way up the incline from the sprawling white building that acted as a reception and dining area for the all-villa resort.

Lacey stiffened, but Galen took her arm. “That’s us.” No point in making her explain the confusing
Jerry Springer
–esque situation to a stranger.

“I have some messages for you that were left with the front desk. Your mother would like you to call her as soon as possible. They started coming in early this morning, but we try not to bother guests until at least ten a.m. unless it’s a family emergency.”

He wouldn’t meet her gaze as he handed over a pile of creamy white paper, and Lacey took it with a frown. “Thank you.”

The porter swiped an arm over his sweaty brow and smiled. “No problem.”

Given his size and the redness of his face, it had clearly been a problem. Galen pulled a ten out of his pocket. “Thanks”—he glanced at the name tag—“Jesus. The missus and I appreciate it.”

Jesus smiled his thanks, pocketed the cash, and turned to start his slow descent back down the hill. Galen turned to Lacey, whose frown was deepening as she read.

“What is it?”

“From my mother.” She handed him the pile and pressed two fingers to her temple to rub.

He hadn’t read a word of it, and he was already annoyed. In a matter of one minute, Rowena had ratcheted up Lacey’s anxiety tenfold and it had him half wishing a house would fall on her. When he started reading, the half wish ramped up to burning desire.

Lacey—

Call me IMMEDIATELY. Do not make another move until you contact me.

—Mother.

He flipped to the next one.

Lacey—

Call me this instant. You’re behaving like a child.

—Mother

The next:

Take a day to sulk, pick yourself up by your bootstraps, and plan to return home tomorrow. There are multiple important matters that need your attention.

I will expect a call tomorrow with your flight number so I can send a driver to collect you at the airport.

Apparently, the salutations were no longer needed.

He fanned out the stack, and she shook her head. There were three more and, if the pattern held, they would only be increasingly hostile.

“Listen, I don’t think you should—”

She held up a hand. “Say no more. I agree. I’m done with her for the time being.” She took a deep breath and crumpled them into a ball. “Lead me to that beach, sir. I need some cooling off.”

She looked so strong in that moment, he wanted to pump his fist or give her a high five, but he held back. When he was preparing for a big fight, his trainer would take him mountain climbing to build up his hand strength and endurance. Max’s favorite piece of advice? Don’t look down until you reach the summit. Galen had asked why, thinking Max would give him some inspirational shit about the satisfaction of seeing how far he’d come at the end or something. Instead, Max had snorted, “Because it’s fucking scary.”

This was another small step toward independence for Lacey, and he wasn’t about to call too much attention to it, because it was definitely scary for her.

But inside? Inside he was beaming with pride.

.

An hour later, Galen found himself sitting under an umbrella on a lounge chair, seriously questioning his sanity. What the hell had he been thinking taking her to the beach? It had been bad enough with her prancing around in boxer shorts and a tank top, but this was ridiculous. She’d started off in some sort of muumuu-type cover-up, but after twenty minutes in the sultry heat, she’d seemed to gather her courage and had shucked it off. He, along with every other guy on that spit of beach, had nearly swallowed his tongue.

She stood before him now against the backdrop of crystal blue water in a nefarious white string bikini. Four triangles of cloth clung to her with no more aid than a slender chain on each curve of hip and one looped around her neck. It was enough to rock his socks off.

“Does it look stupid?” She wrapped her arms around her waist, which only succeeded in pressing her breasts together, plumping them against the edge of her suit, which, in turn, sent something plumping against his. “It looks stupid. I’m going to go to the gift shop and get a tank suit. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

She retrieved her cover-up and was in the process of tugging it back on by the time he finally trusted himself to speak. “Don’t.”

She paused and met his gaze. “I look silly. This isn’t me. I’m not ballsy enough to pull this off.” She bit her lip and turned away. “I just wanted…”

“I know what you wanted.” He would’ve stood, but his physiological response to her state of undress made that impossible unless he wanted to get himself arrested for indecent exposure. “You wanted to let go, have some fun, do something different and exciting.” The genuine sadness in her eyes kept him from adding,
And for the record, I’m different and exciting.

She clutched the brightly patterned cloth more tightly in her hands. “Yeah.”

“So I don’t know why you’re trying to talk yourself out of it now. The hard stuff is over. You dumped the groom, ran out on your wedding reception, and jumped on the back of a Harley in your slip. Then you got drunk and flew to Puerto Rico with your best friend’s older brother, who, incidentally, thinks you look smoking hot. Who’s got more balls than you?” he asked, allowing some annoyance to trickle into his tone. His baiting her was terra firma for them both. Hopefully the familiarity of it would remind her that he was, and always had been, a straight shooter. He wasn’t blowing smoke up her ass here. A lot of people in her shoes would’ve crumbled after yesterday, but she’d handled that lights-out blow to the chin better than most of the heavyweights he’d fought.

Her eyes went so wide, she could’ve been a cartoon. “Y-You think I look hot?” Her wringing hands went limp and her cover-up fell to the sand.

He considered backpedaling rather than revealing exactly how much she affected him, but one look at the hope on her face killed that notion. Instead, he played it matter-of-fact. “I don’t think it, squirt. I know it. It’s like water’s wet, the sky is blue, Lacey looks fine as hell in her bikini.” He shrugged. “Facts are facts. You’ve gotta get some confidence working because I think your view of yourself is skewed. Fake it until you make it.”