Ask me to Stay

by Osburn, Terri

  The sigh let her know she’d broached a delicate subject. “We talk once a week. She understands why I stay here.”

  “And why is that?” Liza would live anywhere if it meant having her mom back.

  Kendall knocked her off-balance with a bump of his shoulder. “You writing a book or something?”

  Her laughter scared a bird into flight. “I could be. Is your life story as interesting as Ray’s?”

  “Not even close.”

  They stopped at the water’s edge, facing the most powerful force on earth, yet Liza felt nothing but peace. Waves sent cold droplets dancing over her toes as she dug them into the sand. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, filling her lungs with exhaust-free air for possibly the first time in her life.

  “Good, isn’t it?” Kendall murmured.

  “The best.” Eyes still closed, she sighed. “If we found a way to bottle this, we could buy and sell half the people in that gazebo.”

  Kendall brushed a curl from her cheek. “This doesn’t belong in a bottle.”

  She turned to find him standing close, watching her. “No, it doesn’t.”

  He cupped her cheek with one strong hand, his thumb gliding over her skin. “Moonlight looks good on you.”

  Pressing a hand over his, she turned her face away as he leaned in. “We should get back,” Liza whispered. “Ray is probably getting tired.”

  Cool air replaced the heat of his touch. “You’re right. We should go.”

  Liza didn’t have a clue what she wanted. Her body said stay, while her brain screamed run. She’d never had a meaningless fling and knew herself well enough to realize how much she was growing to like this complicated man. Too much to fall into his bed and walk away unscathed.

  In the name of self-preservation, Liza turned to walk back up the beach, the moon illuminating the way. Awareness raised goose bumps on her skin as Kendall walked behind her. She bent to retrieve her shoes, not sure whether he was angry or disappointed, but hoped this wouldn’t replace their budding friendship with awkward discomfort.

  Kendall was the only islander she could completely relax with. The rest of her visit would be lonely if that went away.

  Amos caught up to them just as Liza reached the screen door of the gazebo. Tongue hanging out and tail swinging side to side, he trotted on through to a water bowl in the corner. She searched the gathering for Ray but didn’t see him.

  Approaching the first familiar face she saw, Liza said, “Excuse me, Doreen, do you know where Ray is?”

  “Home,” the woman replied. “Francine gave him a ride. He said to tell you and Kendall not to hurry.” Green eyes shifted to Kendall behind her. “Did you enjoy the beach?”

  “The beach is lovely,” Liza replied. “You have a beautiful place here. Thank you for making room for one more.”

  “You’re always welcome, darling,” she said with sincerity. “Anytime.”

  Leaning around Liza, Kendall dropped a quick kiss on Doreen’s cheek. “Another great kickoff. Tell Bradley to call me about that creaking step.”

  Doreen patted his cheek. “I’ll do that. You kids have a nice night.”

  “He’s just taking me home,” Liza explained, preferring to cut off any rumors about her and Kendall before they could start. She now realized Ray had sent them outside on purpose. Time to have a little chat about any matchmaking ideas he might have.

  Shoes still in her hand, Liza navigated the remaining crowd to reach the exit to the parking area. She was already sitting in the cart when the driver and his dog joined her.

  Without a word, man and beast took their respective places, and within seconds, the cart cut through the trees toward the main road. A vibration hummed through Liza’s body that had nothing to do with the vehicle beneath her. Every nerve ending seemed to fire at once, sending her heart racing and making the hair on her arms stand on end.

  As if sensing her distress, Amos rested his big head on her shoulder. Instead of pushing him away, she leaned in, pressing her ear to his. Like magic, as the dog’s even breathing soothed her, her body settled.

  The journey didn’t take long, and before she knew it, Kendall had delivered Liza to her private stairway. With the motor running, he waited in silence for her to step out. Instead, she turned to face him.

  “Thank you.”

  “No problem.”

  Liza knew he misunderstood. “I mean for earlier.”

  Kendall leaned his elbows on the wheel. “What about earlier?”

  “Thank you for not pushing me on the beach.”

  His jaw clenched. “I’m not that type of guy.”

  She was botching this terribly. “I don’t think you are. I mean, I know you aren’t. I just . . .”

  He shook his head, turning to meet her gaze. “I shouldn’t have—”

  “I like you, Kendall,” she cut in. “I really do.”

  Though she hadn’t planned the words, Liza knew them to be true. He’d been rude, taciturn, and even insulting at times. But he’d also been considerate, generous, and as devoted to Amos as he was to Ray. On more than one occasion, he’d even been protective of her.

  “I’m hoping we can be friends. Just friends.”

  Her escort flashed a heart-melting grin. “You like me, huh?”

  Of course that’s the part he’d focus on. “I knew I’d regret admitting that,” she replied, unable to suppress her own smile. “I’m afraid I’m too practical for this sort of thing.”

  “What sort of thing?”

  The jerk was going to make her say it. “A casual, short-term fling.”

  Kendall sighed before meeting her gaze. “I don’t want to have a fling with you, either.”

  Humiliation washed over her. “I’m sorry. I misunderstood.”

  “No,” he said, mumbling a curse. “I mean, I like you, too, Liza. But I get it. I live here. You live there. Being friends is smarter. Less fun, but smarter.”

  The flood of embarrassment ebbed, but her cheeks remained warm from his admission. An admission that confirmed her earlier suspicion. If Kendall wouldn’t leave this island for his own mother, nothing would make him go.

  The lesson of her parents’ marriage danced through Liza’s mind. If only her father had loved them enough to sacrifice. To compromise. To put them first.

  Liza climbed from the cart, still carrying her shoes. “Friends, then.”

  Kendall nodded. “Friends.”

  Leaning in, she kissed the top of Amos’s head. “Good night, buddy. Thanks for being my date.”

  Kendall laughed, and some of the tension slipped away.

  “Thank you, too, for being our chauffeur,” she added, and from the bottom step, she said, “Good night, Kendall.”

  “Good night, Liza.”

  Clutching the Keds to her chest, she watched the cart fade in the moonlight, leaving her both conflicted and relieved. They’d established two things this evening—a mutual interest and an unwillingness to put either of their hearts on the line. She hadn’t expected him to agree with her about why they shouldn’t get involved, but his doing so had sparked an interesting question: What if she were the one to sacrifice? Staring up at the moon, she considered her options, remembering the feel of Kendall’s hand against her cheek. “Could I live here?” she murmured, but an answer didn’t come.

  She still didn’t have the relationship she’d hoped for with her father. Despite his absence from her life, Liza yearned for the father-daughter connection she’d missed out on. That yearning is what had driven her back to the city after Mom’s death.

  If she moved away now, what little progress they’d made would be gone.

  Shaking her head, Liza came to her senses. She’d known Kendall James for one week. An unexpected bout of lust was no reason to consider altering her life entirely.

  “Get a grip, Teller. He’s practically a stranger.”

  But Kendall didn’t feel like a stranger. A thought Liza ignored as she climbed the stairs to her apartment.

&n
bsp; Kendall was still thinking about Liza as he plugged in his cart for the night. His instincts had been correct, but at least his loss of control on the beach hadn’t destroyed the progress they’d made. That was something.

  Taking the steps two at a time, he bounded up to his front porch until a deep baritone cracked the night silence, nearly sending him hurling back to the bottom.

  “You’re in a good mood,” Larimore said, chuckling when Kendall grabbed his chest.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing.” A cell-phone screen lit up as he said, “The movie ended a while ago. I thought you’d be home by now.”

  “I didn’t realize I had a curfew.” Opening the door for Amos, Kendall added, “Is there a reason you’re lurking on my porch on a Friday night?”

  Larimore rose from the rocker. “I’ve got a buyer for the North Point house, but they want to move quick. I need an answer by morning.”

  North Point had been his father’s home, and Kendall’s as well, when he’d stayed on the island during his childhood. After the service, he couldn’t bear living in the house without his dad, so he’d built his own and rented out the other. Only recently had he considered selling.

  “I haven’t even agreed to put it on the market.”

  “Come on, Kendall. It’s time. Prices are at an all-time high, and you haven’t walked into the house in years.”

  Nothing he didn’t already know. “Who’s the buyer?”

  “An older couple from Florida. The man likes to tinker in his workshop and invented a gadget that made him rich. They visited as tourists a few years ago and fell in love with the island. Now they’re looking to retire here.”

  Maybe Larimore was right. It was time.

  Stepping inside, he said, “Come on, then. Show me the offer.”

  Kendall turned on the kitchen light as his friend took a seat at the table. By the time he took his own seat, the documents were spread out for his perusal. Spotting the seven-figure amount, he whistled. “That’s a pretty penny.”

  “I told you prices were good.”

  Tapping the table, Kendall considered the implications. “So you’d make a pretty penny here, too.”

  Larimore rested an ankle on his knee and tilted back on two legs. “Commissions are a wonderful thing, but don’t consider me in your decision.”

  Shoving emotion out of the equation, Kendall reviewed the papers. “What’s the rent pulling in a year?”

  “One-fifth of that offer.”

  Damn. Kendall didn’t necessarily need the money, but he wasn’t a fool, either. Pushing the document Larimore’s way, he said, “Let ’em have it.”

  A dark brow arched high. “You sure?”

  He was. “I want to pull a few things before the sale, but they can have the rest.”

  Two chair legs hit the floor. “You want to sell it furnished?”

  “Why not? I don’t have room for everything here.” There was little of sentimental value in the house, as his father had never been one for material things. Before he could turn the place into a rental, Kendall had needed to buy furniture for most of the rooms.

  Larimore leaned his elbows on the table. “You might be able to spread stuff around your other rentals.”

  True. A few places could probably use the fresh pieces.

  “Okay, then. I’ll figure out what I can keep, and the rest goes with the house.” Kendall shoved back from the table. “Mom might want something, too.”

  The two men walked to the door. “She never liked this place much, did she?”

  The house hadn’t been the problem. Mom had never liked the island the house was on. “No, but we did spend some time there together as a family.” Not much, but Kendall had a few good memories to look back on. “I’ll see if she wants anything.”

  “Sounds good.” Larimore extended a hand. “Congratulations, hoss. You’re a wealthier man than you were a few minutes ago. Or will be soon.”

  The comment brought to mind Liza’s assumption from earlier. Would she be pissed that he hadn’t confessed the truth? Technically, she hadn’t asked if he had money—just assumed that he didn’t. Kendall had answered her question honestly.

  Besides, the size of his bank account didn’t change who he was. She’d said she liked him and that they should be friends. That wasn’t likely to change because he had a few million in the bank.

  Chapter 11

  “You did not skinny-dip at Orchard Beach!”

  Not that Liza should be surprised by anything at this point. Each of Ray’s stories was more scandalous than the one before. The teenage Ray had been more than a little adventurous. From smoking and drinking to streaking and now skinny-dipping. Such a wild child.

  “Oh yes, we did. Malcolm was the ringleader on that one, but we didn’t take much convincing. Three of us were leaving for basic training the next day. Benny had a few more months before his eighteenth birthday, so he had to wait. Jed had swiped a couple of bottles from his dad’s wine stash, and we were feeling pretty good by the time we stripped down to our skivvies.” Ray’s eyes dropped to the table. “We all figured that night might be the last time we’d ever see each other. At least, I did.”

  Liza’s heart broke for the innocent boys being thrust into a situation they were in no way ready to handle. “You still volunteered? Even knowing you might not make it home?”

  Narrow shoulders shrugged. “There wasn’t much choice. I mean, we weren’t all drafted like those boys during Vietnam, but signing up was a given. Unless you were like Jimmy with his bad ear. They wouldn’t take him. Getting on with a life that was likely to be interrupted anyway didn’t make much sense, so we volunteered and did our duty.”

  “Did anyone else make it back?” she asked, hoping the answer was all of them.

  “Malcolm did, but he’d stepped on a land mine in France and lost a leg. I saw him a couple of months after I got home.” Ray shook his head. “He wasn’t the same.”

  Something told her Ray wasn’t, either.

  “The others?”

  “Benny’s plane went down somewhere in the North Atlantic. Jed died in a firefight in Germany.” Leaning back, he crossed his arms. “At least they died for something, though. Seems like ever since then, we’ve been getting into wars we have no business being a part of. Too many boys and girls lost, and for what?”

  Liza had asked the same question in a piece she’d written five years ago. “Based on the research I’ve done,” she said, “it almost always boils down to money. They never admit as much, of course, but greed is often an underlying factor. Greed and some wayward ideal about making the world look just like us.”

  They’d gone from a fun story about skinny-dipping to the bleak realities of war. Talk about a depressing transition. Though she supposed they couldn’t linger in the happy years of youth forever.

  “How much would you like to share about your time in the service?” she asked. Part of her wanted to know everything, while the rest of her preferred to spare him the trial of reliving the whole ordeal.

  Ray flattened his hands on the table. “I’m going to leave that up to you.” Reaching for the chair to his right, he retrieved a tattered gray journal and set it on the table. “You’re welcome to take this home with you, but I’d like to hold on to it until you leave. I haven’t read the entries in nearly seven decades, but I knew they might come in handy someday.” With a halfhearted smile, he added, “Looks like I was right.”

  Liza ran a fingertip over the faded cover. “I’ll take good care of this,” she whispered, honored to be entrusted with such a treasure. “And if I include anything you’d rather I didn’t, say the word and I’ll edit those parts out.”

  “Like I said before. I trust you.” Rising from his seat, he retrieved the journal. “Now it’s time for this old man to rest his bones.” Bracing himself on the back of the chair, he grew somber. “Don’t judge me too harshly when you read the journal. The world was a different place back then, and I was just a
boy.”

  She’d never wanted to hug anyone quite so much as she did Ray in that moment. “My job is to tell the story of your life, not to pass judgment on it. Besides, we’ve all done things we aren’t proud of.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “But some of us more than others.”

  Looking more exhausted than he had in days, he disappeared into his bedroom and shut the door. The poor man. Liza could only imagine what he’d endured. What all of them had. So many young lives cut short before they’d even gotten a chance to grow up. She stopped the recorder and dropped it into her bag as her thoughts drifted to Benny. She imagined a boy of seventeen watching his friends drive off to war, knowing he’d be joining them in a few months.

  Seventeen-year-olds were supposed to dream of prom and college, not land mines and flying bullets.

  “War sucks,” she said aloud.

  “I’ll second that.” Kendall closed the front door behind him as Amos sprinted toward Liza.

  She hadn’t seen Kendall since movie night and had started to wonder if he’d changed his mind about them being friends until he’d called the night before asking if she still wanted to see his house. Bracing for impact, Liza caught the dog in her lap, barely avoiding a giant openmouthed kiss.

  “You’re way too big for this, buddy.” She scratched behind his ears before shoving him off.

  “How far have you guys gotten in this book thing?” Kendall asked, seemingly trying to sound casual, but Liza picked up the interest in his voice. So much for him giving up the fight.

  “Today we talked about Ray’s time in the war. Or more accurately, the time before the war. He told me about his high school friends who never came home.” Indignation rose on their behalf. “They were only boys, Kendall, barely out of high school.”

  He filled the chair Ray had vacated. “So was I.”

  “You were in the service?”

  “Six years,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Three tours—two in Afghanistan and another in Iraq.” After three taps on the table, he said, “Have you discussed how much of his life he wants included in this book?”