Back To Us (Shore Secrets 3)

by Christi Barth

  Since when was it this difficult to talk a man into sex? Had hell frozen over? Piper tried again. This time she stuck her hand down the collar of his shirt to skim lightly along the warmth of his back. “We’re primed and ready. Forget foreplay.”

  “Careful.” Ward lifted his head to smirk at her. “A statement like that’ll get your membership in the sisterhood of women revoked.”

  Of all the times for his stubborn streak to surface! “I’m serious. Let’s do it now, fast and hard. We don’t need to make a big deal out of it. Think of it as a tension release.”

  “It won’t work. You might as well give up. I won’t be rushed.” He caressed her breast, molding it in a series of slow squeezes. “And I intend for it to be a very big deal when we have sex.”

  The problem was that Ward had the upper hand. Literally. Since he was on top of her, she couldn’t shift enough to tease him in return. To fire him up to a point of no return. All she could use was logic. Which was never as surefire a method of persuasion as naked touching. “We’re not breaking new ground here. We’ve done all this before. Ten years ago. This is a rerun, not a splashy premiere.”

  “We’re not the same people now that we were as teenagers. Everything about this experiment, about the way we’re dating today, is different. Brand new. We’re building something this time around. I hope.”

  Piper’s heart melted. Just puddled right off the edge of the chaise onto the floor. “I hope so, too.”

  “Then respect the process. You’re gonna need to be patient.”

  That word—need—was exactly her current predicament. “Okay, but I don’t need frills and foreplay. I need you. I need you a lot. I need you now.”

  “Babe, that’s the tip of the iceberg as far as begging goes.”

  The phone rang. They both jerked at the unwelcome noise. “Why the hell do you still have a landline? It’s like you’re stuck at the turn of the century.”

  “Very funny. I keep it for safety. A woman living alone can’t be too careful.”

  “Your cell phone’s practically grafted to your hip.”

  “Not that kind of safety. I mean if there’s a bad storm and the power goes out.”

  He moved up until he was lying across her entire body. “Well, you’re not answering it.”

  “No, I most decidedly am not.”

  The answering machine clicked on. “Since you were so put out when we dropped by last week, we’re calling to share with you our disapproval. This thing with Ward has gone too far.” Piper closed her eyes. It didn’t stop the horror of her mother’s voice leaving the most ill-timed message ever. “We’re only trying to save you from heartbreak again, dear.”

  That tinny, echoey quality meant her mom was using the speakerphone. Which could only mean her dad was bound to put in his two cents. Piper tried to roll out from beneath Ward. He shouldn’t have to hear this. But he pinned her wrists to her sides and remained on top of her, motionless.

  Her father cleared his throat. “We heard from Frank Rogers that Seneca Savings turned Ward down for a loan.” That snapped her eyes back open. Ward hadn’t mentioned he was in a money crunch. Certainly not that he’d been desperate enough to go to that snaky scumbag for help. If things were that bad, why hadn’t he mentioned it? Ward’s face remained a stony mask, giving nothing away about how he felt. “He’s after your money. Our money.”

  “Let me up,” she whispered harshly in his ear. But Ward might as well have been a marble statue on top of her.

  “He’s playing you, dear. Using you. You don’t deserve to be dragged down by him. Not again.” It was the most sympathy and concern she’d heard in her mother’s voice in months. When Piper came down with walking pneumonia last winter, her mom had ordered chicken soup to be delivered exactly one night, and ordered her not to visit the house until her cough had disappeared. Olivia Morrissey wasn’t a cuddly, maternal sort. She must truly be worried. For Ward to be the cause of such an extreme level of worry gave Piper pause. Was she missing something? Was she so happy tripping down memory lane that she was ignoring the warning flags right in front of her face?

  “You need to face reality.” Patrick’s tone made it clear this was an order, not a suggestion. “If you don’t break it off with him soon, we may need to re-evaluate your position at Morrissey Vineyards. Think about if he’s worth all you could end up losing.”

  The silence that hung in the air was thicker than Joel’s famous clam chowder. Piper didn’t know what to say. Where to start. Except maybe by pulling the ancient answering machine from the wall and tossing it into the lake.

  Ward let go of her wrists and rolled to the side. Grabbed his beer from the floor, propped himself on an elbow and drank. His Adam’s Apple bobbed up and down repeatedly as he drained the entire bottle. Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Stared across the room at the dark windows. “Did your dad just threaten to kick you out of the family business? For dating me?”

  “I think so. Yes.”

  He set the bottle on the coffee table. Still wouldn’t look at her. “Think he’s serious?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Piper weighed the various permutations of what that would encompass. “I think he’s serious about wanting to do it. But I’m not sure he’d actually go through with it. The scope of the potential scandal might give him second thoughts.”

  “In other words, you don’t have to decide right now if I’m worth it. You can wait and see how things go with us. See if he gives you another warning.”

  Ward was giving her an out. Or at least a way to delay deciding. Which was incredibly sweet of him. But that would be the death knell for their burgeoning relationship. It was crystal clear to Piper, if not to Ward, that she had to pick a side and commit right now. Not even wait until after the pizza arrived. This was a turning point. The turning point.

  She’d made a choice all those years ago by breaking up with him without any discussion. In hindsight, Piper could see that might not have been the best choice. In ten years’ time, she didn’t want to look back to this night and regret her choice. Regret her cowardice. Regret the moment she didn’t commit to the possibility of a future with Ward with every bit of the conviction and passion with which he’d showered her for each of the past eleven days. That vow to make more of an effort with him? It was time to put up or shut up.

  Piper grabbed his hand and brought it to her heart. “You’re worth it, Ward. Not for the land for my port line. Not for the sake of our friendship with Ella and Casey. You’re the man I’ve never stopped wanting. You’re the man who makes me happy, makes me laugh, makes me feel more than I have for anything else in the world. No job could measure up to all that. Of course I choose you.”

  The invisible bubble of tension filling the room burst. Ward exhaled with his whole body. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I really, really do.”

  His hand tightened around hers, so much so that it verged on pain for a split second. Then he dropped a kiss on her forehead and let go. “I’ll go grab a couple of plates. Pizza should be here any second.”

  So that was settled. Mostly. Piper had meant every word. But she did have lingering questions. Not that she’d bring up tonight. No, that phone call had been all the drama she could stand. But the question of Ward needing a loan did still niggle at her. Like a fire ant in the corner of her brain. Not so much that he needed it, but that he’d kept it a secret. What else wasn’t he telling her?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Eyes glued to the fridge and the life-giving store of coffee beans inside it, Ward rounded the island he’d made out of an old barrel. And banged his hip on the sharp edge. Damn it. This after he’d banged the hell out of his wrist on the nightstand trying to turn off the alarm. Not to mention finding a hole in his socks. Zombies had better hand-eye coordination than he did while half-asleep.


  Either he’d convince Piper they belonged together—or he’d die trying. Amazing how two people who already knew each other inside and out found so much to talk about. Not that they’d done much talking after midnight. Made good use of his mouth in other ways, though. Ward hadn’t left her house until 3:00 a.m., and then spent a good ten minutes braced in the coldest shower of his life.

  Lack of sleep was a small price to pay. He believed that most of the time. Just not when the sun battered at him through the window and there was zero caffeine in his system. Waiting for a hit until he got to Cosgrove’s would be impossible. The way he was feeling, he’d probably drive on the wrong side of the road to get there.

  Pounding rang through the house. It sounded like a fist knocking on the front door, but who would do that at seven in the goddamned morning? Ward hitched up his low-slung pajama bottoms and hustled to the door. Somebody had better be dead.

  His first thought upon flinging open the door was that he’d been half-right. Somebody was back from the dead. Because he hadn’t seen the woman in front of him in more than fifteen years. The bleached blond hair was different—especially with the bright green strips framing her face. Thick black eyeliner and fake lashes were new...to him. But Ward sure as hell recognized those bright blue eyes. Because they were a mirror image of his own.

  One arm, covered in at least a dozen clanking bangles, raised in a half wave. “Remember me?”

  “My own sister? Of course I do.” He pulled her over the threshold and into a hug. The impulse was natural. You hugged your kid sister. Except for when she got in your stuff, and then you gave her noogies. But that didn’t feel familiar at all. Lori had been a skinny nine-year-old with a cast on her arm from falling out of an apple tree the last time he’d hugged her.

  Now it was weird. Awkward. Like hugging a stranger. Plus, how long was the damn thing supposed to last? Not like you could cram fifteen years’ worth of missed hugs in all at once. Ward remembered he was only wearing pajama bottoms. No shirt. Probably explained why her elbows sort of pushed in at his ribs, instead of her arms going all the way around him. Yeah. This was past weird and shooting toward uncomfortable. He let go and shut the door.

  “So, um, hi.” Lori jammed her hands into the pockets of her faded black hoodie. It was open over a T-shirt for some band he’d never heard of. Black-and-white checked leggings ended at hot pink open-toed booties. It was a look—for a rock groupie, maybe. Which would explain the psychedelic hair color.

  Not that he had a clue what she did with her life. She could be undercover with the NSA. Or an artist. Hell, for all Ward knew she was a meth addict, which would also explain the odd getup. He hated that he didn’t know jack shit about Lori’s life. He’d been sad about it for a bunch of years. Then angry. Since his dad died, Ward had tried not to think about her at all. Clearly that was no longer an option.

  Ward grabbed a flannel shirt off the coat rack and shrugged into it. “Hi.”

  Now what? Was he supposed to invite her in, like a guest, to the home where she’d grown up? Wait for her to pick a room and follow? Say to her, Hey, thrilled you’re back, but hang out for a few while I shower and make coffee? He sucked at small talk. But it didn’t seem right to burst right into demanding to know where she’d been all this time. Even though it was blaring through his brain brighter than neon bar signs.

  Lori crossed her feet and rocked back and forth. “Guess you’re surprised to see me.”

  “Yeah.” Without thinking, he blurted out, “Less surprised than I was when you didn’t show up to Dad’s funeral.” Okay. Guess that old anger flared back up pretty fast.

  “He was dead,” she shot back. “In a coffin. No way to know or care if I showed up.”

  “I knew. I damn well cared.”

  Her shoulders drooped. Then her head, like those daisies Piper loved that were too heavy for their stems. “Oh.”

  Shit. He’d blown it already. Ward wished, even more than he wanted coffee, that Piper was next to him. She’d know what to do, what to say. How to smooth out the tension. Clearly they needed some sort of third-party mediator. Pathetic when he didn’t know how to be alone with his own sister.

  “Come on.” He jerked his head at the hallway back to the kitchen. “Let’s sit down and talk.” His bare feet slapped against the dark pine boards of the old farmhouse. The walk was too short to give him time to think. Or breathe. Or figure out how to make a stab at a better start.

  Off to the side of the kitchen was the breakfast nook that had barely changed since Ward’s earliest memories. The small space was crammed with a scarred wooden table, the bookshelf he’d made in sixth grade shop to hold his mom’s cookbooks, and a Christmas cactus Casey gave him as a joke a few years ago that was now practically a jungle plant.

  The table should be familiar ground for her. It was where they’d carved pumpkins. Played board games on snow days. Ward and Lori had done their homework together every night at that table. Until she left.

  Sure enough, she crossed around to what had been “her” seat on the opposite side. Ward had stopped using his own seat once she left. He didn’t like to look up and not see her face where it belonged. So he pulled out the chair at the end, flipped it around backward and straddled it.

  “Didn’t mean to bite your head off,” he said gruffly.

  One shoulder jerked up and down, fast. “No big.”

  This couldn’t be more stilted if they started talking about the weather. “Lori, you’ve got to help me here. I don’t know why you’re here now. I don’t know why you left back then. I don’t have a fucking clue how to talk to you.” Ward reached out his hand across the width of the table, palm up. “The only thing I do know is that I’m glad to see you.”

  Her hand brushed across his. More of a low five than anything. But he’d take it.

  “It’s good to see you, too. The beard...it makes you look all grown up. Well, that and the chest hair,” she added with a laugh.

  Self-conscious, Ward twitched his shirt closed. Buttoned it for good measure. “I can drive a car now, too,” he joked.

  “The ultimate proof of adulthood. Car keys in one hand, and a shot glass in the other.”

  “Not at the same time.”

  “Yeah.”

  They weren’t snapping at each other anymore. But they weren’t exactly talking, either. “So...it’s pretty early for a surprise reunion. Is everything okay?”

  “I figured you’d be up. Life on a farm, you know? Always starts with the sun.”

  One of the eighty reasons he’d always hated living on a farm. “This isn’t really a farm anymore, Lori. I turned it into a distillery.”

  “I saw the sign when I drove up. It looks good. Impressive. The kind of place that can hook tourists in and convince them to drop a wad of cash.”

  Not exactly the Lakeside Distillery mission statement. Might as well take the compliment, though. “We have our share of good days and slow days.”

  “You really made something of yourself. Way to go.”

  “Thanks.” Another beat, while he waited for Lori to volunteer something—anything—about herself. “How about you?”

  “I’ve done a ton of stuff. Right now I’m all about supporting Rich, my boyfriend. He’s the drummer in Yellow Snow. God, Ward, he’s so talented. His playing is what gets people in the door at every gig.”

  It didn’t escape his notice that she’d glossed over everything that had happened over the past fifteen years. No mention of college. A career. Where she called home. Ward didn’t want to judge. He just wanted to fill in the gaps. And wondered why the hell Lori was slow rolling it with the information. Why was she here if not to catch up?

  Trying to muster up a smile, Ward asked, “Are you in the band, too?”

  “No. I stay behind the scenes. I run the promo table for them. Sell CDs and posters and
shirts.” She plucked at her own shirt. “That’s where you make the real money.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “We’re set up over in Ithaca now, making plans for their next tour.”

  Ithaca? It was an hour away. One measly, stinking hour, for fuck’s sake. That long-ignored anger simmered to the surface. Ward swallowed it down. No jumping to conclusions. “How long have you been there?”

  “All summer. They were the house band at this great club for a couple of months. Now that Cornell is back in session, they’re working on playing at a bunch of different places. Get exposure to different fan bases.”

  “Lori, you’ve been just down the road all summer?” In as calm a tone as he could muster—which probably sounded grumpy as shit—Ward asked, “Why’d you wait so long to stop by?”

  She picked at chipped electric-green nail polish on her thumb. “Wasn’t sure you wanted to see me.”

  That ejected him from his seat. He was around the table in four long steps, to crouch by her chair. The bad parts of the past didn’t matter. All that mattered were the good parts. The life they’d grown up sharing. For that, he’d always love her. “Of course I want to see you. I’ve wanted to see you for fifteen years. I search for you on Facebook every couple of months.”

  “That wouldn’t get you anywhere. I changed my name. Cantrell was boring. It didn’t have any zing. Now I go by Lori Lee.”

  Lori’s idea of zing sounded more to Ward like either a country singer or a hooker. “Explains why I never found you.”

  “I didn’t think you’d be looking. Mom always said it would be easier for everyone if we just kept our distance.”

  It was hard, but he had to separate his anger at his mother from his regret at all the lost time with Lori. Not take it out on her. But Ward couldn’t let a statement like that go unchallenged. Lori seemed to only see one side of the story. “She sure as hell did that. Walking out the door on her husband and son, leaving the state for God knows where—that’s a lot of distance.”