She grabbed Lucky’s hand to tug him up off her couch. “I have a very cool surprise for you. Remind me to bring a bouquet of flowers back for Mrs. Duchester.”
She tried tugging him out the door but he’d become like a steel spike lodged in the cement, like he wasn’t going anywhere without the surprise first.
“Who is that?” he asked, his arms hugging her waist.
“She’s my landlady and she’s also very awesome.” She gave him a quick peck on the lips but then turned and led them outside. Funny how in the blink of an eye, he’d gone from complete stranger to the one man she couldn’t wait to dazzle.
She left the Jeep in a lot designated for occupants only, checking Lucky’s face frequently to see if he was figuring out her surprise. He was close, judging by the way his hand kept squeezing hers and his eyes got all baby blue and bright. They started up the ramp to the pier, bypassing the sand below. His stride had slowed so much she had to remind herself not to tug on him. The very first time was always the best—to stand at the edge of the world, trying to follow the line of the ocean’s edge until it disappeared into the horizon. He followed her down the wooden pier but stopped several times to watch the waves through the cracked slats below.
“Trista, this is the first time I’ve been to the ocean. Thank you for bringing me here. I’ve never walked on a pier quite like this.”
She smiled and knew she was about to blow him away. “Then I take it you’ve never slept on one either.”
Hadn’t he noticed the last half of the pier was lined on each side with small cabins? She pulled out a single key on a chain and put it in the lock, opening the door to their quarters.
“Are you joking? Are we staying here tonight?” he asked.
“Would you like to? It’s probably the only chance I’m gonna have to sleep away from the office. I had to promise Ben a month’s worth of new vests to get out of work tonight.”
“Vests?”
“Yeah, I make him vests. I know, it’s weird. But he’s my friend and he keeps me sane.”
“Heck, I’d like to help you with some of them to thank Ben myself.” He seemed equally indebted to her landlady whose name he couldn’t get quite right. “And Mrs. Dorchester?”
“Duchester,” she corrected.
“So this is her place?”
“Yes, I don’t owe her anything though. She’s so sweet. I just told her I had a friend who’d never been to the ocean and she offered it up to us. But I definitely want to bring flowers back.”
“Absolutely, those are on me, by the way.”
Seriously, could life have sent her a nicer guy at a better time? Yeah, no. Now if she could just figure out a way to get over herself and keep him.
“So, come on inside and I’ll give you a tour. Then if you’d like, we can head down to the water.”
It took the whole of three minutes to give him the tour. The cabin was tiny in comparison to Jaxon’s villa. But filled with much nicer things like peace and quiet. The waves lapped in a chorus of hearty splashes below and to the sides of the cabin walls. She hoped Lucky didn’t mind the lack of stretching room. Someday she’d ask what his place was like back in Tennessee.
“So, that’s it.”
“It’s perfect. I feel like we’re hovering over earth’s private pool.”
She couldn’t have thought of a better way to say it herself except to add, “And we’re together.” Oh boy, she’d lit up his face with that one. The world needed to go on and invent a manly word for pretty and rugged. Prugged. No, that sounded horrible. Like she’d gone and knocked up her boy…friend. Her boyfriend. How goofy was the smile hurting her face right now?
“How about we get some blankets and head down below.” A girl could try.
“Blankets?”
“Yeah, now that the sun’s gone down, we’re gonna need them. Trust me.”
Lucky didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed an armful of heavy blankets and then followed her down to the beach, closely. Someone had quickened their stride this time. She smiled to herself.
“This looks like a good spot. Not too crowded,” she said through her sleeve that covered her mouth.
Lucky laughed. Okay, so she was being sarcastic. There wasn’t another soul to be seen for miles.
He turned to stare out at the midnight blue water that teased the shore and then shrank away, only to come back and taunt it some more. “I can’t believe this. What are the odds that my first trip to the beach could be so perfect?”
“Pretty crazy odds. But I’ll take them. I’ve never even been out here when it was this deserted. Maybe somebody up there does like me. Ha, it’s probably you they like. I’m just lucky to be here with you.”
“Trista, don’t say that.” He stepped closer to her as she kicked off her flojos and laid a blanket down over the soft lumps of the sand. “Trust me, darlin’, there are plenty of people up there who like you.”
She finished laying the second blanket down and then sat, patting the spot to her left for Lucky.
“Oh yeah, like who?” Instead of taking him seriously, she focused on smoothing down the broken pieces of shell that beautifully littered the sand but poked her in the butt where she sat.
Anyway, they were just words. Their beach clock was ticking and she wanted him to stop talking so they could cuddle and kiss. She imagined running her fingers over his slicked back hair and down through his ponytail under the gorgeous moonlight.
Lucky sat down and tucked two of the blankets around their legs and hips before lying back on the sand with her. Was he nervous? She supposed he might be, just a little. His soul patch stuck out under the bottom lip he was working.
“Well, for starters, your mom. And your father. And my mom.”
She forgot she’d asked the question and let the back of her head thud from her hands onto the sand. “I never had the honor of meeting your mom, Lucky. And my father died before I was born.”
“That doesn’t mean they don’t still love you. My mom would love anyone who meant this much to me. And as much as I can tell you’ve got your doubts, you have to know God loves you, too.”
Uh, no, she didn’t have to know that. Did they really have to talk about God and the love of a father she’d never met right now? Gramma had already tried to enlighten her on those subjects. If God loved her and was real, she wouldn’t disrespect him by faking her allegiance. She’d at least give him that much.
“Lucky, it’s already been a heavy night. Can we keep it simple?” She looked up at him with a pleading smile and eyes.
“Sure. Sorry, I didn’t mean to get all preachy. Oh. I almost forgot about the thing I wanted to tell you.”
Trista giggled. The ocean had a way of affecting people like that. She’d visited these shores many times throughout her tenure with the band. Always arriving with a heavy heart and always leaving feeling reminded of how small her problems were. She could throw it all away when she was here. And it swallowed up the problems like they were nothing more than crumbs on a plate.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it now if you’d rather just relax.”
“No, I’d really like to tell you, well, see what you think really, about an offer I got yesterday.”
Her eyes popped and she grabbed onto his wrists with jubilant fingers. His meeting! “Did you get a backer? Are you gonna be able to set up a shop out here?”
“Not exactly. That actually fell through pretty quickly. It took the guy less than ten minutes to explain to me why he wasn’t going to support my venture.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, Lucky. But I don’t understand, you seem very okay with that.” She let go of his wrists, confused.
“I guess it just wasn’t meant to be this time around.”
Her face fell. Was she sadder about his not sticking around for much longer, or worse, that he seemed so blasé about things not working out?
“That really sucks.” Should she put her true feelings out there? He might just want to enjoy the time the
y had tonight. She had all but told him this was it. Maybe he’d seen the craziness of her world and had decided one night was all he could handle. If it was all the time she had, she wanted him to at least know the truth. “I was hoping you’d have stuck around a little longer. You’ve kind of grown on me.”
Lucky leaned into her, close enough for a kiss. “Well, that’s really what I wanted to talk to you about. I was offered a job as a carpenter on the Sin Pointe crew. It’s mine, lead carpenter, if I want it. I just have to say yes.”
She fought to be happy because this was the best news but a touch of fear sucker punched her. “Really?” she squeaked out.
“Yes. But I haven’t given my answer, I thought just in case you were sick of me…”
“Oh, never, never. I just, I’m shocked. How did Vance know? I mean, have you met him yet?”
“Um, no. He’s the band manager right? No, Jaxon offered me the job.”
The mention of the name silenced her for a moment and then she began again.
“Oh, okay. Well, that makes sense.” She supposed Vance would go along with whatever Jaxon proposed, even if it meant creating a new job for Lucky. After all, it had been Jaxon who asked the same for a mere sixteen-year-old girl, a much more ludicrous request and Vance had gone along with that one. But, they already had a lead carpenter. Jeff was a sweetie, dread locks and all. He would probably be promoted to Lead-lead carpenter for his troubles, and he’d be fine with it. The crew would accommodate Lucky as they would anyone else invited into the inner sanctum of the Sin Pointe family.
That wasn’t what worried her. What did was everything else.
She had her doubts whether Lucky could handle this kind of life. On the road, he’d either be made or broken. Or more commonly, broken and then re-made.
“So what are you gonna say?”
He let a palm full of sand slip through his fingers. “I’m leaning toward yes.”
“You do know that there’s a lot of traveling involved.” She buried her own hand under the cool beaded sand next to his.
“Yes, but Jaxon said the road crew typically travels by bus.”
Her hand was now on his knee and when he looked up at her she said, “You’d travel across the country—we’re talking six months of the year—in a bus? To be a carpenter when you could be home running your own business? Lucky, have you really thought this through?”
“Yes, darlin’. I have.”
Did he know that term melted her every time?
“Lucky, have you ever made love on the beach?”
She knew the answer. She hoped to change it tonight as she walked her fingers up his thigh.
Chapter Eighteen
The ocean waves taunted them, unlike any creek he’d ever trailed back home. The later it got, the closer the tide rolled in, seducing its way to their feet and leaving a light trail of bubbly foam in its wake. The damp night air was crisp and it left an even chillier mark when mixed with the ocean water. Had he not been so wrapped up in Trista and their blankets, he would have noticed the soggy feeling sooner. He reached around to tug her out of the water’s reach when she nearly kneed him.
“Ticklish?”
The light sound of Trista’s giggling as he slowly drew one finger down the side of her neck and then back up thrilled him. But she quickly buried her cheek into her shoulder, denying him any further access to her apparent sensitive skin. He should let her be but a night like this was rare. In all his thirty-two years, he’d never felt anything so right and perfect. Made even better by the fact they were someplace Trista had felt safe enough to bring him.
“I love your shirts.” She ran her finger over the western detailing of his red and black shirt. “They fit you so well. I wonder if I could make you one of these.”
It wasn’t sexy talk, but it was sensual and intimate the way she invited him into her world and wanted to make him a part of hers in all these new and different ways.
“I would love to have something you made for me. I didn’t realize you like to sew that much.” He eyed her dress appreciatively, thankful for the loose style that stimulated his man’s brain. He remembered how the things she kept hidden under there fit perfectly in his hands. Her small waist and curvy bottom had felt amazing their first night in the hotel as he’d explored her body. But now, he craved being able to see her. Their spot on the beach was incredible, but when he pictured all he desired of her, she was laid out on his bed, naked and beautiful, with his lamp turned on. He’d untangle her hair and fan it out over his pillow, maybe trail a curl or two down between his fingers like she enjoyed doing to his. He’d let the hair go once he made it to her breasts so he could gently roll her nipples between his fingers and thumb. They were probably the prettiest shade of pink and this time, there’d be no lacy bra hiding them from his view, his touch, his lips. Looking at her dress falling against her petite chest now, he knew everything she had would make a perfect fit. He flexed his hand to ease the ache and did his best to pay attention to what she was saying. But that meant concentrating on her mouth.
“I do. I’m not so good with intricate things; vests and dresses are a pretty simple cut. But I’d like to try.” She traced another finger over his shirt and his chest shuddered below.
He should say something thoughtful about her sewing but all he could come up with was how perfectly her dresses fit her petite frame, yes, so much smaller than his. If he rolled over, he’d cover her completely.
“I just need to measure you again, properly, or borrow one of your shirts.”
To think of her touching his bare skin like she had in the dressing room, it was more than he could stand.
“Here, you can have this one.” He sat up, letting the blankets fall from around his shoulders and undid the pearly red buttons. He handed it to her. “It’s yours.”
Trista bundled it up into both her hands and pressed it firmly to her nose. He wondered what it smelled like to her. It wouldn’t reek with cologne because he didn’t wear any. Whatever it was she liked about it, she seemed to enjoy it a lot. Before he could look away from the sight, his stare embarrassed her.
“Hey, it’s okay. You have no idea how that makes me feel.” Shirtless, he leaned over and decided he couldn’t wait any longer to pull her in for a kiss.
But as he did so, he caught her shivering and sprouting goose bumps. Her lips had turned a light blue around the edges. The color was pretty, he supposed, but in the wrong place and time. And the way she sat there looking at him, trusting him, reminded him of the lost girl he’d found the day at the creek. As much as it turned him inside out to have to call it a night, there was no more horrible feeling than to know she was uncomfortable, and that she’d never admit it herself.
There was no need since they had the entire beach to themselves, but he leaned over and whispered to her. “I’d like to take you inside, darlin’. Warm you up. Is that okay?”
“Inside, outside, it doesn’t matter, Lucky. I…I want you. I think I need you that badly.” She shivered.
Whenever she spoke like this it worked on him in wicked ways. Her raw truthfulness called out his most heated, basic instincts. But the sadness he knew was the basis for her words chilled him to the bone. It’s why he was always caught in such an impossible fix and why he was so hesitant to take things too far. And, he couldn’t trust her to stop him.
He pulled out the two sticks that dangled from a few of her curls, letting her hair tumble down past her shoulders. The sticks, ivory and black, fell into the soft sand. He held her face, treasuring it in his hands.
“Trista, I need you to make me a promise.”
She nodded she would but he feared he might upset her with what he wanted. It was too bad. This was something he wasn’t willing to compromise on, even if it ruined their moment. She brought one of her hands up and laid it softly against his. “Okay,” she said.
“Darlin’, you are so doggone special to me. I have to know you truly believe that before we take this any further.” He silentl
y vowed to go on and make love to her right then and there if she’d only make him that one promise.
He wouldn’t let her twist out of his hold, not to gather her wits and not to turn away. Her neck tensed in his hands. She tried to pivot. He should have known he’d asked the impossible and he’d pushed her too far. As he decided to free her face, she caught his hand and nodded. “Okay,” she whispered.
But on the heel of her promise, a wave of surf came hurdling at them, washing through their blankets, soaking him first and then tumbling up onto Trista. They hollered together at the icy torrent. Just as they’d caught their breath, two large, round, glowing headlights pulled up to face them.
Lucky quickly stood and pulled Trista up with him. They huddled and shivered under the cold wet blankets. The shore patrolman waved then called out. “Tide’s rising. I’m advising you to return to your cabin.”
“Yes, sir,” Lucky called back. As soon as the words left his mouth, they chased each other back up the pier.
The second he stepped foot inside the cabin, its warmth greeted him from cheeks to toes. He’d seriously underestimated the perfect weather’s ability to turn downright chilly at night. Trista flipped a switch and magically, two flickering flames came to life over what appeared to be a wooden log. Only in California.
“What should we do with these?” he asked, holding the soaked blankets until she unloaded them from his arms and tossed them in a corner. She seemed upset his shirt had been ruined as she stood at the kitchen counter, ringing out the saltwater and then feverishly smoothing out the wrinkles she’d caused.
He reached over and laid his hand on top of hers. “Hey, you know we don’t have to do this, right?”
“Oh, I just don’t want your shirt to be ruined. The salt from the water might set in if I leave it. I just need to rinse it a few more times and then hang it to dry.”
Sidewalk Flower Page 16
