Fully Involved (Island Fire Book 3)

by Amy Knupp

  “That’s service,” Andie said, taking the pages from him. “I thought maybe you’d come to beg for forgiveness for crushing my Harley.” She placed the copies on the kitchen counter, and Clay sauntered after her.

  “I’m new at the whole landlord gig,” Clay said, ignoring the topic of her motorcycle. “I figure making an impression is important.”

  When she turned to face him, he was directly behind her. Startled, she put her hand on his chest and dropped her eyes toward his lips for a heartbeat.

  “An impression,” she repeated, her voice low and sexy. “I’d say you’re good at making an impression.”

  “At Chez Marlow, we want to welcome you to the neighborhood.” He grinned, then closed the final few inches between them and touched his lips to hers. Lightly, waiting for her acquiescence.

  “I’m feeling very welcomed.” She ran her hand up his chest and twisted it in his T-shirt.

  Their mouths met again, more insistently.

  oOo

  Andie moved into Clay’s hard body, relishing the feel of his hands on her. His kiss was breathtaking, turning her inside out. He was somehow gentle and demanding at once, tender and yet assertive. Like no one she’d been with before.

  The kiss shot heat clear down to her toes. Their tongues met, and urgency surged through her, between them. He trailed his palms up her sides and then cradled her jaw with one hand. The gesture was surprisingly intimate. Andie opened her eyes and met his gaze. The sincerity in his eyes knocked the breath out of her, and she pressed her lips to his again, hoping to lose herself in physical sensations.

  It was too good. And though it was difficult, after a few more seconds, she ended the kiss because, when you got down to it, it was too scary.

  Her reaction to this man was more than just physical. She had no idea what that even meant or if she was imagining more than there was, but…

  She bowed her head and put some space between them. “Where’s your daughter?”

  “Payton?” He seemed momentarily confused. “Upstairs. In bed.”

  “By herself?”

  “Of course not. My sister and her boyfriend are there.”

  She nodded, touching her lips.

  “You’re going to be here for a month?” Clay said, even though he knew that from the lease she’d signed. “We could have a lot of fun in a month.”

  Something clicked in her like an alarm going off. A month of fun with this man sounded way too tempting. Judging by the way he’d made her feel after just a few minutes of kissing, there was a real danger that she’d care too much.

  She was not up for that. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t ever fall that deeply under a man’s spell again, wouldn’t let herself get so caught up that she lost herself.

  Andie met Clay’s playful gaze with a serious one. “That’s not a good idea.”

  He straightened, studying her.

  “Your daughter,” Andie said, grasping for something that would get through to him. Scare him away. “You said they’ll use anything against you for your custody case.”

  He nodded slowly, narrowing his eyes, all hint of amusement erased.

  “They’d have a heyday with me as a bad influence, Clay. Not only do I look the part with my tattoos and piercings but…” She swallowed hard and closed her eyes. “I have a police record.”

  His look was chillier now as he worked through what she’d just confessed to.

  “What’d you get picked up for?” he asked quietly after several seconds had passed.

  “Which time?” She threw it out there as flippantly as she could.

  “Pick your favorite,” he said without missing a beat.

  “Not my favorite, but the most memorable was assault charges against my ex.”

  His eyes widened just enough for her to notice.

  “They were dropped. Big of them, really, since I hit him in the midst of having several of my bones broken by him.”

  She hated that she watched so closely for his reaction. Hated admitting any of her past to him. His face changed as he absorbed what she’d said. Disbelief became something akin to pity.

  “Andie…” He took a step toward her but she put out a hand.

  “It’s in the past, Clay, but yeah. That’s the kind of past I have. Not pretty. Easy to dig up. Other incidents that weren’t dropped. Nightmare in a custody case. So while tonight was … fun, it’s probably best that we don’t let it happen again. For Payton’s sake.”

  oOo

  Clay stared at Andie, still reeling.

  She was one hundred percent correct.

  Andie Tyler was the last person he should associate himself with if he wanted to win custody. Getting permanent custody of Payton was paramount, as necessary as oxygen. His little girl had been through too much trauma already.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly, “for being honest. Payton means too much to me to jeopardize—”

  “It’s probably best that you go now.”

  The tough girl was back, solid as stone. He couldn’t resist closing the gap between them one last time and pressing his lips to hers, gently.

  “I’ll see you around,” he said.

  “Thanks for the personalized landlord service.”

  “Anytime.”

  The truth hung between them, though, and they both knew his remark was empty. He couldn’t afford to flirt with her or get any more personal.

  And yet … he was shaking inside.

  Chapter Four

  Clay wished he shared his daughter’s enthusiasm for visiting Grandma and Grandpa’s house.

  At the end of the two-hour drive Friday evening, he pulled the truck up along the curb in front of the home he’d grown up in, and Payton shot out of the backseat. She ran around to the backyard, where the rest of the family were likely already relaxing. If Clay had his way, they’d take their time getting there.

  Towering oak trees that were older than Clay shaded the sprawling yard. A multilevel deck offered an ideal setting for entertaining, which the Marlows used frequently for social and business functions. For family gatherings, they tended to congregate on the stone terrace next to the grill and outdoor kitchen, so that Clay’s mother, Della, could remain involved in all the action and conversations.

  Clay’s father, Vince, sat in his favorite Adirondack chair. Bridget and Reid shared a double bench to his right, and Laurel, the oldest Marlow sibling, and her husband were to the left. Laurel and Charles’s three boys played a high-contact version of keep-away toward the back of the lawn.

  “Grandma!” Payton ran directly to Clay’s mother. The woman was in her realm — the gourmet outdoor kitchen her husband had built for her several years back, as the family expanded with marriages and births. When she heard her granddaughter’s voice, she set down her utensils and wiped her hands on her apron.

  “How’s my girl?” Della said, wrapping her arms around Payton.

  “I’m fine!” She said it with so much enthusiasm that everyone laughed.

  “Don’t you go giving all your hugs to your grandma,” Clay’s dad said.

  Payton giggled and skipped over to him. As the only granddaughter in the family so far, and the youngest of the grandchildren, she’d become plenty spoiled in the few times Clay had been able to bring her to the weekly family dinner.

  Clay kissed his mom, then took a seat next to Bridget. Laurel, Bridget, and Reid were engaged in conversation, but Charles said hello. Clay’s dad merely nodded and Clay did the same in return.

  “It sounds like an interesting project,” Laurel, the family’s surgical prodigy, was saying to Bridget.

  “The more we learn about motivating teenagers…” Bridget said, “I’d like to think that could lead to better learning solutions for kids who don’t get straight As, underachievers, those with discipline issues.”

  “The kind of kids who cause explosions in the chemistry lab, for instance?” Laurel finally acknowledged Clay with smug amusement.

  “Exactly that kind of kid
.” Bridget relaxed against the back of the wooden bench she shared with Reid and grinned at Clay.

  “Really?” Clay said, trying to smile at Laurel and act like this wasn’t a sore spot. “You’re going to bring that up again?”

  “How can we not?” Laurel said. “It’s such a classic.”

  “I don’t think I’ve heard this one before,” Bridget’s boyfriend said.

  “You really don’t want to,” Clay said.

  “It was Clay’s junior year in high school,” Laurel began, almost as if she was reading a script. She’d told the story that many times.

  “Clay wasn’t exactly a motivated student,” Bridget added.

  “You were too young to even understand what motivated meant.” Clay leaned back in his lawn chair and rubbed his eyebrows with his index finger and thumb.

  “He and a buddy couldn’t be bothered to study for their chemistry class,” Laurel continued, “but that didn’t stop them from breaking into the lab after school one day to mix up some gunpowder, thinking they’d concoct their own fireworks.”

  “You didn’t,” Reid said.

  “Turns out they made something more powerful than they thought.” Laurel could barely get the story out, she was laughing so hard.

  “They blew up a couple of beakers, ruined some equipment, and set off the sprinkler system throughout the school,” Bridget said. “Our boy got himself suspended for ten days.”

  “All that ambition and only a D in chemistry.” Laurel shook her head.

  Clay happened to glance at his father at that moment, when everyone else around the circle was in hysterics. The disappointment Clay was so well acquainted with made only a brief appearance.

  Yep, that was him. Dad’s major letdown.

  He looked back at his sisters and their significant others, who’d all gotten a kick out of the rehashing of the story. He forced himself to laugh with them, though he found nothing amusing about being the one who’d always caused trouble, always embarrassed his father. The chemistry lab story was just one of many examples that his high-IQ sisters liked to tease him about.

  Not only was he the nonacademic of the family, but he’d regularly gotten picked up by the cops. Back then, he couldn’t have cared less.

  He’d grown up in a heartbeat when he’d learned he was a father though. He’d dramatically changed his lifestyle, but his family still saw him as the black sheep.

  Payton edged over to Clay and climbed up on his lap, as if she sensed he was uncomfortable. He kissed the top of her head and smiled to reassure her.

  Clay wrapped one arm around Payton and used the other to run his fingers through her soft, little-girl hair. In truth, she brought him as much comfort as he tried to give her. He caught snippets of the conversation that carried on here and there: Laurel’s life-saving surgery, Bridget’s studies as she worked toward a doctorate degree in psychology. Their mother filled them in on the other two siblings’ successes as well — Gwen, the software developer who lived in Seattle, and Izzie, the biology professor and researcher, who’d taken a job on the East Coast a year ago.

  Clay loved his sisters, but he’d never been close to any of them except Bridget. He was too different from them — always had been, and it went beyond gender. His new closeness to Bridget had been brought about because they both lived on the island. He’d always been the misfit, the lone blue-collar guy in a circle of brainiacs.

  After several minutes of sitting quietly, Payton started squirming. Clay welcomed the excuse to escape. He challenged her to race him to the tire swing, making a show of trying his best to keep up with her, then lifting her over his shoulder and tickling her when he finally did.

  oOo

  “What happened to the big happy dad who was chasing his daughter around like an overgrown kid?” Bridget asked Clay after dinner.

  He was leaning his elbows on the stone wall at the very back of the parklike yard, gazing over at the trickle of water in the ravine that bordered the property.

  “Got a phone call with bad news,” he said, not looking at her.

  Bridget copied his stance at the wall. “What news, Clay?”

  He shook his head.

  “You can’t tell me you got bad news and then not explain,” Bridget said. “Is somebody sick? Is it Payton?”

  “It’s the custody hearing. My lawyer called to tell me they changed the judge.” He straightened and watched a pair of birds chase each other in a nearby tree. “Apparently the one we got has a rep for being tough on single fathers. Believes a mother is the better option for a kid.”

  “But it’s obvious Robin isn’t. She’s an addict.”

  “We’re worried she’ll see the rehab stay as Robin’s valiant effort to be the best mom she can be.”

  Bridget nodded. “I guess it could be, if you disregard the way she’s treated Payton for the past three years. Your lawyer’s good. He’ll fight this.”

  Clay nodded unenthusiastically. He’d been confident before the first custody hearing back when Payton was a baby. It was painfully obvious to him that Robin was not cut out to be a mom. But that had been twisted and buried by Robin’s lawyer, her uncle. Now Clay knew it was an uphill battle even with a fair judge.

  “Is this why you were so quiet at dinner?” Bridget asked.

  “Guess so.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us right away, Clay? We’re your family. We’re on your side.”

  “You think so?”

  She faced him. “How can you doubt me?”

  “I don’t doubt you, Bridge. But the others … you know how things are between Dad and me. He’s said before a child needs her mother.”

  “When?”

  He shrugged. “Couple years ago. Before the second hearing.”

  “He actually said that?”

  “Yes.”

  She was quiet for a couple of minutes, lost in thought. “His opinion has probably changed. He’s seen you with Payton. How could he ever think Robin would be better for her?”

  “It’s not so much that Robin’s good. He just doubts I’m the best solution.”

  “I think you’re wrong, Clay.”

  “There’s no love lost. You know that. He doesn’t talk to me, can barely say hello. It’s awkward as hell coming over here, but I want Payton to get acquainted with her family. She deserves their love.”

  “She does,” Bridget agreed. “So do you. And you both have it.”

  He checked his watch. “I need to get Payton home and to bed. See you Sunday morning?”

  She nodded, not able to hide her concern.

  “I’m fine, Bridget. I don’t need his approval.” His dad’s approval would be nice — unimaginable but nice — but he could live without it. He had for years now. The only person he had to do right by was Payton. He worried, night and day, that he’d do the wrong thing for her. But he would move mountains to figure this parenting thing out. Whatever it took.

  Somehow, he and the lawyer needed to figure out a way to make the judge see that Payton would be better off living with him than with her half-there drug-addict mother.

  Chapter Five

  A mostly private pool was a new treat for Andie and one she could get used to fast. Clay had given her a key to the wrought-iron gate he’d installed to keep Payton safe.

  Hot sun, cool water, a padded lounge chair that was more comfortable than most of the beds she’d slept in, and a pile of new books. Life didn’t get much better than this.

  Andie lay on her stomach with a biography of a local zoologist and founder of Turtle Town, a rescue center for endangered sea turtles at the north end of town. Not something that would’ve caught her attention necessarily, but the bookstore owner had recommended it and had gone on about the turtle project. Three chapters in and Andie was hooked and determined to visit the turtles.

  The gate to her left creaked and she saw Payton out of the corner of her eye, realizing she must not have gotten it locked after she’d come in. She waited to see what the girl would do.
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  “Hi, Miss Andie.”

  “Hey, kiddo.” Andie used the store receipt as a bookmark and put the book down. “What’s up?” Payton looked to the sky and shrugged, making Andie laugh.

  “What are you doing?” Payton asked.

  “Reading about the Turtle Lady.”

  “Turtle Lady?”

  Andie nodded. The turtle rescue center would be a great place for Clay to take his daughter. “She started a reserve called Turtle Town here on the island.”

  “What’s Turtle Town?”

  “It’s where they rescue sick sea turtles and try to heal them. You can go and look at the big turtles.”

  “How big?”

  “As big as you,” Andie said, grinning until she saw the child’s frown. “But they’re nice turtles. In big tanks. They can’t get out, but you can watch them swim.”

  “Do we hafta?”

  “You don’t have to. Only if you want to. And if your daddy will take you.”

  “Why do you have all those butterflies on your back?” Payton asked, moving to the side of her chair.

  “It’s a tattoo.”

  Tattoos, actually. What had started as a single butterfly on her shoulder blade had grown into a flock. Each time Andie visited her cousin Jonas in Illinois, she had his tattoo artist friend add to it.

  “My daddy and Mr. Evan and Mr. Derek have tattubes but not a butterfly.” Payton stared at Andie’s upper arm. The tattoo covered a fourth of her back, swirled up to her shoulder and down a couple inches on her arm. “I like butterflies.”

  “Me too. You know why?”

  “Uh-uh.”

  “Not only are they really pretty but they’re free to fly wherever they want.”

  Payton studied her thoughtfully. “Yeah.”

  “That’s why I got one on my back.”

  “Can I get one on my back?”

  “Not till you’re a grown-up. Tattoos hurt.”