by Lori Foster
Or more accurately, Joy had let her attraction for him get in the way of her responsibilities.
Since she’d be seeing him more all through October, she had to figure out how to keep her physical reactions to him in check.
Or you could just grab one more indulgence?
Oh no. Definitely no. Royce hadn’t shown any particular interest, and when would it be possible, anyway? Ruthlessly, Joy snuffed that idea.
But after she parked and she and Jack headed for Summer’s End, she spotted Cooper Cochran standing near the scuba shack, at the edge of the boat ramp. Two others stood to his left on the shore, their wet suits rolled down to their waists.
One of them was Baxter, the scuba instructor. Joy had seen him and his very fine physique a great many times. She took in the sight of him the same way she admired art—with an eye of appreciation, but nothing more. He didn’t keep her awake at night.
However, the other man was... Royce.
Seeing him like that, chest bare, dark hair slicked back, sun glinting off his wide shoulders, caused a very different sort of appreciation. Her heart raced, her stomach seemed to take flight and she couldn’t breathe.
She forgot her resolve. She forgot everything.
Good God, she felt...alive.
* * *
“Well?” Coop asked him.
Now that they’d peeled down the wet suits, Royce felt goose bumps assault his torso. “Other than freezing my balls off, it was awesome. I haven’t done this since college. I’d love to visit again, longer next time.” He’d forgotten how good it felt to just relax. After the endless obligation, he’d been elbow-deep in the effort to restart his life. Fun and recreation hadn’t factored in.
It still couldn’t, not in any significant way. But the occasional swim? Losing his worries while exploring the bottom of the lake—a lake that had once been a quarry so it still offered a unique underwater landscape? That he could manage.
“You’re a natural.” Baxter set his gear aside, tossed Royce a towel and used one himself. “The water is colder now than in the summer, but clearer, too, since we don’t have any swimmers churning it up.”
It wasn’t the water that bothered Royce. The wet suit had insulated him from that. But the chilly October air? An altogether different matter. The fins made it tough to walk, so going into the shack to change wouldn’t have made sense. If he did this again—and he hoped to—he’d be better prepared for exiting the lake.
Coop took Royce’s mask and tank. “The season ends for guests after Halloween, but Baxter still dives as long as there isn’t ice.”
While briskly drying, Baxter shrugged. “Some men jog. I dive.”
Royce looked out over the rippling surface of the lake. A bird skimmed low, squawking, and in the distance a large, silver fish jumped. Something about the combo of sun and water and sand filled him with peace. “If you don’t mind, I’ll join you a few more times before winter lands.”
“I’d be glad for the company,” Baxter said.
“Thanks.” As Royce turned, he roughly ran the towel over his head. The sun warmed his shoulders, but the sharp breeze cut over him.
The park was a thing of beauty this time of year. He gazed around the empty beach and foamy shoreline—then paused when he noticed Joy some distance to his left, standing by the entrance to the camp store, a small boy holding her hand.
She seemed surprised to see him, almost frozen...and then he remembered he was shirtless. Joy wasn’t staring at his face.
Her gaze was on his body.
The sight of her chased away much of his chill. In fact, as he watched her, he forgot about everything, including the two men standing with him.
“You’ve met Joy, right?”
Drawing his gaze from her, Royce glanced at Coop. It wouldn’t do to give the wrong impression. “Yeah, she came by the drive-in the other day.” He snagged his T-shirt from the picnic table and pulled it on. The wet suit, rolled down to his hips, would have to stay in place for now. All he wore under it was his boxers, but he sat to remove the fins.
When he glanced up again, he saw Joy and the boy darting into the store.
It had been a hell of a long time since he enjoyed a woman’s attention. Too damn long. Yet he couldn’t deny what he felt: pleasure that she looked at him, pride that she appeared to like what she saw and, worse, an almost instinctive urge to reciprocate her interest.
“That’s Jack.”
Hearing the fondness in those two words, Royce turned to Coop. “Her son?”
“Good kid,” Baxter said as he stripped off his suit without a care. Of course he’d thought ahead and worn compression shorts underneath. “Friendly but shy with strangers.”
“Joy’s protective of him.” Coop moved around to the other side of the table. “We all are.”
A warning? Royce wasn’t sure how to take that.
While he was trying to decide on a reply, Coop said, “No one’s around. You’re good to go.”
Royce realized that Coop had his back to him while he kept watch for anyone who might come along. Joy and her son were nowhere to be seen.
“Might take me a minute. I’m not as practiced as Baxter.” He struggled out of the wet suit and quickly drew on his jeans. As he zipped up, he said, “Thanks.” The T-shirt stuck to damp places on his body, so he shoved his arms into his flannel shirt before sitting down to pull on his socks and shoes.
Was it his imagination or had the temp dropped ten degrees?
Baxter clapped him on the shoulder. “Have Maris pour you a cup of coffee and I’ll store the gear.”
Not wanting to start off on the wrong foot, Royce shook his head. “I’ll help.”
Baxter offered a friendly smile. “Not this time.”
“For today only,” Coop explained, “you’re a guest.” He indicated the open door of the camp store that Joy and Jack had entered. “Next time you can learn the ropes.”
“Ask Maris to pour me one, too,” Baxter said, already striding off with the tanks and fins. “I’ll join you in a few.”
Royce looked at Summer’s End. Sunshine bathed the entry, shielding the doorway like a yellow curtain so that he couldn’t see anyone inside. The faint strains of country music drifted out, along with the low drone of conversation. And, damn it, he couldn’t deny the jolt of...excitement? Anticipation?
He wanted to see Joy again.
With another absent, “Thanks,” for the men, he started forward.
The unwelcome, heated interest intensified as he neared. Everything else faded away; he no longer heard the squawking of gulls, the constant washing on the shoreline or the rustling of drying leaves in the trees. The closer he got, the deeper he breathed and the warmer he felt.
And then he heard her voice.
“What do you mean?” A nervous denial. “I wasn’t staring.”
“Give it up,” another woman said. “You were eyeballing the new guy big-time. Your face is still hot, too.” He heard a laugh that was both soft and husky. “It’s not a crime to admire a nice bod, you know.”
Flattered, Royce looked down at himself and gave a mental shrug. Yes, he’d stayed fit, mostly through strenuous physical labor. As a mobile sawmiller, he’d been able to tailor his hours to make a living wage while also meeting his other obligations.
Joy’s pause sounded loud in Royce’s ears.
Yes, he’d picked up on her scrutiny, but it had been so long since he’d done the whole man/woman thing, he liked having her awareness verified by someone else.
Suddenly Joy groaned. “All right, so I stared.” In a lower voice, she added, “I thought he’d be gone by now, so I hadn’t expected to see him, and then he came out of the lake half-naked...”
“And lookin’ fine,” the other woman said with humorous admiration. “I’m glad to know you still have a pulse. And before yo
u get offended—”
“I wouldn’t,” Joy said, her tone tinged with self-directed disgust. “I know I come off as cold.”
“Not cold at all. You’re one of the nicest, most considerate people I know. But around men, you’re always disinterested. Maybe even oblivious. God knows plenty of campers have tried to get your attention.”
Joy dismissed that. “Not seriously.”
“Come on.” The other woman guffawed. “I get that your big focus is on Jack, and he’s a sweetheart because of it. But every single guy—and some of the not-so-single guys—do their best to get your attention, and they all fail.” Her voice went lower, soft with understanding. “I’ve been trying to tell you, Joy. You’re allowed to have some fun, too.”
Stopped just outside the doorway, Royce paused. So he was expected to be fun? Hell, fun had been absent for so long he wasn’t sure he’d recognize it anymore. But now, finally, he was close to having a new life.
This was no time to lose sight of his end game.
“I know what you’ve been telling me,” Joy said. “And I’ve explained that I can’t get involved. Between my job and being a single mom, I have zilch for free time.”
“I’m not saying you have to get involved. Offer him a night. An afternoon. Hell, I’ll watch Jack for you right now and you could—”
Joy laughed while shushing the other woman at the same time. “You don’t even know if he’d be willing.”
The woman gave a soft snort. “Oh, he’d be willing. Men are always willing.”
Not necessarily true, Royce knew. He had a stretch of celibacy to prove it. But was he ready now? He couldn’t deny the way his cock jumped at the idea, though as a grown man, he made decisions with his brain. Still, other parts of his body rallied persuasions, ganging up against better sense and—
“Who are you?”
He’d been so enthralled by the women’s conversation Royce hadn’t noticed the little fair-haired boy approaching until he spoke.
Silence swelled around him until it picked up a pulse beat. Or maybe that was his own guilty conscience now drumming in his head. Listening in equaled eavesdropping...and he only just realized he was doing it.
In his defense, he’d been so surprised that he hadn’t even thought about it. Instinct alone had kept him standing there, taking it all in.
Avoiding looking toward Joy, Royce turned his attention down to the kid. Chocolate ice cream dripped over the small pale hand gripping a cone. It also smudged the boy’s mouth, and even the tip of his button nose.
Grinning, he held out his hand. “I’m Royce Nakirk, a neighbor of sorts since I own the drive-in.”
Big brown eyes rounded comically wide as they stared at Royce’s hand. Though he felt the women watching, no one said a word. Finally Jack shoved the cone into his left hand and held out his very sticky right hand. “I’m Jack Lee.”
Royce took one step in the door, snagged a few napkins from the first booth and then knelt down. “Nice to meet you, Jack.” He took the boy’s hand—melted ice cream and all—and gave it two careful pumps. That done, he asked, “Mind if I mop up a bit?”
Narrow shoulders rolled in a shrug...and Jack thrust his face up for Royce to clean.
Nonplussed, Royce’s grin widened more. He’d meant to tend his own hand, but he wasn’t a novice at this sort of thing—although his experience wasn’t with kids.
He carefully wiped the boy’s mouth and chin.
Suddenly Joy was there, protectively close to her son as she took over, efficiently swabbing his face and hands.
Jack was quick to say, “I’m not done yet.” Then to Royce, “She usually cleans me up when I’m done.” And back to his mother, with firm insistence, “I’m not done, Mom, okay?”
Fighting a laugh, Royce said, “I’m sure your mother will understand that I interrupted things.” He looked up at Joy, saw something like panic in her eyes and smiled. Yes, he wanted to say. I heard every word.
But that would only get him in deeper, and he figured he was already mired ass-deep in feelings he didn’t recognize.
“See, Mom,” Jack said. “I saw him standin’ there and that’s why I’m not done.” Again to Royce, “Ain’t that right?”
The kid was a charmer with his blatant honesty. Royce gave a solemn nod. “Exactly right.”
“Isn’t, not ain’t.” Joy’s face softened. “And I’m not rushing you, but if you want time to swing we need to get going soon.”
Royce, still on one knee, watched Jack jam as much of the cone in his mouth as he could, determined to get every bite.
Instead of getting annoyed as ice cream dripped down his shirt, Joy stroked the boy’s hair. “Jack,” she said softly. “You’ll have Mr. Nakirk thinking you’re without any manners at all.”
That tone reeked of affection, as did the gentle touch, and it took Royce a moment to refocus.
Coming back to his feet, he looked past Joy—a necessary break from her impact—and asked the woman behind the counter, “Do you have coffee?”
“Do I have coffee,” she scoffed. “Only the best coffee in town. Grab a seat and I’ll bring you a cup.”
“Thank you. One for Baxter, as well, please. He’ll be joining me shortly.” This woman he could deal with. She was pretty in a more practical way, with dark blond hair held back in a bouncy ponytail, and brown eyes that weren’t at all as innocent as Jack’s, yet held an all-business mien when she met his gaze.
As Royce moved around Joy, Jack fell into step behind him. Mouth full, he asked, “Do you get to watch movies every night? Do you pick the movies? Do you have a favorite?”
Because her son followed him, Joy did, as well...though she held back a few steps.
“At the drive-in, you mean?” Royce chose a booth in the middle of the store. “Since I run it, I’m usually working when they play. And we only have movies on the weekend, though I wouldn’t mind changing that a little, maybe in the future. I pick them, but I base it on what’s popular because it’s not about what I want to see, right? It’s what will bring in an audience.”
Jack took all that in, chewed it over in his head and nodded. “I’d like to own a drive-in.” Taking the position across from Royce, he balanced his knees on the seat and his elbows on the tabletop. “When my windows are open, I can hear the movies. Sometimes moaning, sometimes screaming.”
Lifting his brows, Royce wondered exactly which movies the boy had heard. A horror flick...or something else? “Is that right?”
He nodded and grinned. “Since I can’t see it, I make up my own movies to go with the moans.”
Royce choked. “Fascinating.”
“Jack.” Joy tried to interject while still not getting too close. “Mr. Nakirk is expecting a guest. Let’s move to another booth.”
“Not a guest,” the kid argued. “Just Baxter, and he likes me, too.”
Too? The boy didn’t lack for self-confidence, something Royce considered a good thing. “I’m pretty sure everyone around here likes you,” Royce said.
“Of course we do.” The other woman reappeared with two cups of coffee, a coffeepot, creamer and sugar on a tray. “What’s not to like, right?”
“Agreed.” Royce waited until she’d set everything down, making sure it was all out of Jack’s way. “I’m Royce—”
“Nakirk, new owner of the drive-in.” She winked. “Listening in goes both ways.” After drying her hands on an apron skirt, she held one out. “Maris Kennedy. I run Summer’s End.”
Her hand was warm, small but strong. “It’s nice to meet you.” As they each pulled away, he looked around. “Seems you have quite the business going here.”
Maris took it upon herself to nudge Jack over so she could sit beside him. “I have all the staples campers might need, basic food stuff, camping items and even a few things for the lake. Plus I run the café. With the end of
the season, I won’t prepare daily specials anymore, but if you’re ever in a pinch, let me know. I often throw together lunch or dinner for everyone who works here.”
That didn’t include Royce, since he wasn’t a camp worker. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“No imposition. Coop supplies me with what I need to keep the coffee going for employees—or friends.” Maris smiled at him, putting emphasis on how she said friends...as if she expected him to be more?
When her gaze slanted to Joy, he caught her meaning. The lady was a matchmaker, and oddly enough, Royce didn’t mind.
Now that Maris sat, only Joy remained standing—and it felt awkward. “Thank you,” Royce said. “I appreciate the warm welcome.” So far, everyone at Cooper’s Charm had proven to be friendly and easy to like.
Standing, Royce turned to Joy. “Why don’t you sit with us?” Next to me. He gestured at the booth seat.
Their gazes held a moment before she forced a smile.
Royce knew she would refuse. Maybe, like him, she was wary of the attraction. He couldn’t blame her. At least on his end, it felt out of place and somewhat disconcerting.
“Jack and I should get going.”
Accepting that, Royce retreated back to his seat.
“But I’d rather talk to Mr. Nakirk,” Jack announced.
The way both Maris and Joy stared at the boy, this must be an unusual request.
“We’re going to the playground to swing,” Joy reminded him.
Jack grabbed more napkins now that he’d finished his ice cream. They quickly shredded against his sticky little hands. “We can swing anytime.”
Without planning it, Royce heard himself say, “You can visit with me anytime, too. I’ll be back to the park off and on, and I don’t live that far away.”
“I can?” Jack bounced. “Can I see how the popcorn machine works?”
“Jack,” Joy said firmly, her tone a mix of reprimand and exasperation. “It’s definitely rude to invite yourself over.”
Maris chuckled.
Royce wondered what Joy objected to most, her impetuous son or the idea of visiting him without the excuse of business.
