No Breaking My Heart (12 page)

“Dance with me, Rylan,” the taller of the two requested.

“Sorry, Mindy. I'm married now.”

Not the answer she expected. “You consider dancing with another woman cheating on your wife?”

Halo had seen Mindy dance. She put the dirty in dirty dancing. Dry humping on the dance floor.

“It's a personal choice,” said Ry, and left it at that.

“Your wife wouldn't know.”

“I would.”

Mindy stuck out her bottom lip, pouted. “Your loss.”

No regrets for Rylan, Halo mused. There was no one like his wife, Beth. She was gorgeous, amazing, and fit right in with his household of dogs. That was no easy task.

The second girl came on to Halo. Her eyelids were heavy, and her words slightly slurred. She opened her arms, ready to embrace him. “Let's do it. Song's almost over.”

A year ago, he would've been half-drunk himself. He'd have pulled her close, made out with her on the dance floor. Contemplated a quickie. Tonight, he feigned an excuse. “Groin pull, sorry.”

The girl giggled. “Mindy's a massage therapist. She'll rub you.”

Mindy nodded. “A massage you'd never forget.”

Rylan had the balls to chuckle. He leaned back in his chair, amused by the exchange.

“Not tonight, but maybe tomorrow,” said Halo, letting her down easy. The girls were getting persistent. He didn't want to make a scene. “No” seemed to piss women off. Made them more aggressive.

“The therapy office is closed on Sundays,” said Mindy. “I have a two-fold portable massage table. I could come to you.”

Halo nodded. “Good to know.”

The girls left them then, weaving across the room on wobbly legs. It took them less than a minute to locate willing dancing partners. A second slow song drew twosomes together. Tightly. Kissing and roving hands came into play.

“Groin pull?” Rylan grinned.

“I ended last season with a pulled groin, and I had a sudden flare up,” Halo said defensively.

Ry finished off his soda at the exact moment he received a text on his iPhone. He showed it to Halo. Halo laughed out loud. Ry's wife had sent a picture of their Great Dane Atlas standing before the front window, looking out at the night. His nose was pressed to the glass. The text read:
Waiting up for you
.

“Time to fly,” said Rylan. He stood. “This is our year. World Series Trophy returns to Richmond. Let's make it happen.”

Halo nodded his agreement. His own iPhone buzzed. A short text from Landon.
We're here, you're there.

They'd have to wait a while longer. He had the sudden urge to drive by Barefoot Inn. The Jaynes were likely asleep, yet there was an off-chance Alyn might be walking Quigley. He could only hope the dog had wakened and needed to stretch his front legs.

It took him thirty minutes to make his way to the door. Women flirted with him and men offered to buy him a beer. He passed, going out of his way to be polite. He promised to buy a round for the house next time he was at the Blue Coconut. Freebies won them over. Hoots and cheers followed him into the parking lot.

* * *

Alyn Jayne stopped at the street corner, leaned over, and removed a pebble from her canvas shoe. The lamplight and half-moon softened the darkness. The scent of wet sand and salt air was strong. The sound of the surf soothing. She and Quigley walked alone, back and forth in front of the inn. Peaceful silence. Her pug was good company. She felt safe, but didn't wander far.

She scratched Quigs' ear, straightened, and was suddenly caught in the headlights of an oncoming, slow-moving vehicle. A big vehicle that rumbled, pulled over, and parked against the curb. A Hummer.

Her heart missed a beat when she recognized Halo Todd. Quigley barked excitedly, wiggling his body, and nearly tipping over his cart. She had no idea why Halo was driving by the inn at such a late hour, but she was genuinely glad to see him. She smiled when he reached them. “Guys' night out, and you're by yourself?” she questioned.

“I just left the Coconut and I'm, uh, taking the long way to the Oyster,” he told her.

“Should you be driving?”

“No heavy drinking. Two beers. No more.”

“You're here because?”

“Danny's my contest winner, and I feel responsible for your family. I came to check on you, and here you are. Walking around in the dark. You should have a flashlight. Whistle. Pepper spray.”

Check on them?
Hardly necessary. She put his concerns to rest. “Not so dark, Halo. There's automatic safety lighting at the entrance and stairs. Pole lights along the sidewalk. The moon.”

That should've reassured him, but he didn't seem satisfied. He stared at her so intently, she felt exposed. She hadn't planned to bump into anyone on her night walk, and wished she'd taken more care. She hadn't worn a bra, and her small breasts bounced beneath the thin cotton top. Her terry cloth shorts sat low on her hips. Her navel was visible.

Halo appeared as uneasy as she was. Strange, to say the least. He never lacked conversation or confidence. Yet at that moment he appeared more little boy than adult male. She rather liked this side of him. More human than hero.

Quigley made a grumbling nose in his throat. He wanted his share of attention. Halo hunkered down beside her pug. “Quiggie Sparks, how's my boy?” He scratched the dog's chest.

His boy?
Quigs liked the sound of that. His front paws pranced in place. “Quigley woke an hour ago.” She brought Halo up to speed. “He scooted around the floor, feeling restless. A walk was the only answer.”

“I understand restless,” he said. “I'll walk with you.”

“That's not necessary.”

“It is for me.” He'd made his choice. Enough said.

She wasn't certain how she felt. She'd witnessed firsthand the way women looked at him, all flirty and vying for his attention. The female manager of the villas on St. Simon's Island had shown them to their treehouse, then lingered and spoken privately with Halo. For a significant time. She'd slipped him a key card to a room other than his own. Had he used the key? Unknown.

Alyn's little toe was still sore from the tour guide at the drag racing museum stepping on her feet to reach him. Alyn had bitten her tongue, and not said a word. Halo had disapproved of the guide trampling her brother. The woman backed off.

The ladies in his life were defined as his past and present, but not his future. Alyn wanted more than a good time. She valued stability. Commitment. Forever. She'd been let down so many times in her life, she was perpetually wary. Trust did not come easy. Especially when it came to a man with a track record like Halo Todd's. He wasn't marriage material.

The spring training contest was a promotional event for the team. Halo was treating her family well. But at the end of the day, her time with him was temporary. She was no more than a chaperone. She'd be returning home in ten days. Her stomach sank at the thought. She tucked her feelings away, accepted what she couldn't change.

Halo took the dog leash from her, then held her hand. The transition was seamless. His grasp was strong, secure. They moved down the sidewalk. He shortened his steps, only to have Quiggie lengthen his own. The pug pulled with all his might, his front legs trotting. The wheels on his cart clipped along the sidewalk. One tire got stuck in a deep crack, and he worked himself free. Alyn praised him.

They reached the next corner, and were in full view of the beach. Moonlight sprinkled the white sugar sand. The ripples on the Gulf streamed like silver ribbons.

Alyn breathed in the moment. “It's so quiet. So beautiful.”

“Want to cross the street?” he asked.

Her first thought was her dog. “Quigs can't navigate the sand.”

“Got it covered,” Halo said, dismissing her concern. He knelt down beside the pug, undid the straps, and then lifted him against his chest. Once secured, he scooped up the wheelchair with his free hand. “All set.”

They made it across the road, and descended two wide wooden steps. She followed Halo to a stretch of compact sand. It was low tide, and the waves crawled in, crept out. They stood side by side on the shoreline, taking in the night and each other.

Until Halo suggested, “We can sit if you want.”

What was a little sand on the back of her legs, her butt? It would brush off. Quigley was a different story. Wet fur had a distinct smell. He'd need a bath if he got sandy.

Halo fixed the situation once again. He gently passed her Quiggie, then set down the cart. He undid his white button down, shrugged it off his shoulders. Big man, big shirt, he spread it on the sand. She now faced his big bare chest. Alyn stared, overly long. She couldn't help herself. Chiseled pecs. A brick-stacked abdomen. His male tiger line ran downward from his navel, dipping beneath his belt. The bulge behind his zipper was significant.

Quigley wriggled against her chest. She was holding him too tightly. She eased down on the shirt before her knees buckled. Buttons poked the back of her thigh, leaving small circular imprints. Halo lowered himself beside her. They sat so close, she was fully conscious of him. His body heat was warmer than the night. She set Quigley between them. The pug sniffed the air, attempting to inhale every new scent, all at one time.

Halo leaned back on his elbows and stretched out his long legs. Sand dusted his jeans. “Comfortable?” he asked her.

Jumpy, fidgety, might better describe her, she thought. She tried to relax. Wasn't successful. She wondered how many other women he'd brought to the beach. Did they end up at his spring training apartment? Sex until sunrise?

A sandy dampness sneaked through the cotton of his shirt, but she didn't complain. “I'm great,” she said instead. “This is a first for me.”

“Me, too,” he admitted. “I've never brought a girl to the beach at”—he looked at his watch—“midnight.”

“It's been a long day.”

“Longer night. I'm thinking bed sooner than later.”

She could picture him on a mattress. His hair mussed, his breathing heavy, a sheen to his skin. Naked, and primed for orgasm. Sure-fire satisfaction. Sated and languid.

Sex. She blushed at the thought, which was both frightening and exciting. She'd been overwhelmed by his kiss at the game show. Spontaneous and with tongue. A ten-second turn-on. An hour with the man and she would shatter. Might never recover. She was fractured enough.

“Your thoughts?” He rolled onto his side, still raised on one elbow. He scratched Quigley's ear. The dog yawned, already half asleep.

“Nothing's on my mind,” she hedged. Nothing she could discuss with him, anyway.

He eyed her closely, then grinned knowingly. Maddeningly. “Dilated pupils, parted lips, pointed nipples. You're not at the beach, babe, you're in my bed.”

Pointed nipples?
That hit her the hardest. She lowered her gaze, saw what Halo saw. She couldn't claim it was cold outside. It had to be seventy degrees. Her sex-thought left visible imprints. She poked the thin cotton.

She groaned. Then flapped the hem, puffing it out and away from her breasts. Only to have it settle once again on her chest like a second skin. More pointing.

“Much better,” said Halo, his grin far too wide and way too wicked.

She'd only made it worse. She ignored the outline of her breasts, and hoped Halo would, too. He did not. His gaze lingered long and hot. Penetrating. Her stomach fluttered. She pressed her inner thighs together, as discreetly as possible. Inched her bottom away from him.

Halo reached across Quigley, curved his wide hand over her knee. Squeezed. “I brought you here to breathe, Alyn. To get to know you better. Not to have you tighten up and move away from me.”

She exhaled so fast, she blew raspberries. Halo chuckled. He was slow to release her. Two of his fingers lingered on her thigh, lightly stroking. “You have very soft skin.”

This said by a man with the hardest body of anyone she'd ever met. She was glad she'd shaved her legs during her shower. Applied lotion. “Now you know something about me that you didn't realize before.”

“That I do.” His hand slid away, settled back on Quigs. He massaged the dog to sleep. “I like your brother, Danny. He talked a lot about your father on the trip south. He really misses him.”

“We all do.” She sighed. “It's heartbreaking for my mother to spend time in the greenhouse, once my dad's sanctuary. She sees him everywhere. She'll return again, when she's ready. My father died so suddenly. There were no good-byes.”

“Same with my old man.” His words came slowly, choppily. The sharpness of his cheekbones was made more prominent by the muscle ticking in his jaw. Alyn listened as he spoke of their relationship. The arguments that caused more grief than good. The older man's eventual heart attack. The fact his mother blamed him.

She took it all in, uncertain of what to say when he'd finished. “I'm sorry. I wish things had been different for you,” she managed. “My dad was my champion. Every time I got shoved down, he gave me a hand up. He never let me lose sight of my goals. Opening a vintage store topped my bucket list.”

“You'll have your shop, and you'll be successful,” Halo said optimistically. “A professional ballplayer only has so many good years. I'd thought about returning to the lumberyard when I retired. Working beside my dad wouldn't have been half bad. But I never got the chance. Instead I bought the warehouse.”

“What does a man do with a warehouse?”

“He lives there.”

“Oh . . .” She tried to picture his home, but saw no more than a big, vacant building.