by Amy Knupp
“My mommy can’t come,” Payton told Andie somberly.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Andie said.
“Okay,” Clay said, aware that his buttons were being pushed, however unintentionally, but unable to deny this one little thing for his daughter’s special day. “If Miss Andie wants to come, she can come.”
“Yay!” Payton clapped her chocolate-covered hands and made a bigger mess, causing him and Andie to laugh.
“Five o’clock, on the beach in front of the Shell Shack. We’re having a cookout. Bring a lawn chair or blanket to sit on.”
“Got it. And the bike?”
“My sister’s taking Payton to a matinee tomorrow. We could do it then.”
They settled on a time, and Andie went off to find Macey. Clay listened to his daughter’s chatter and prayed, yet again, he hadn’t just done something he’d regret.
Chapter Eleven
The next day, Clay and Payton made their way down the stairs to Andie’s. Bridget was due to pick Payton up in a few minutes for their movie, a princess-y one, Clay had been reassured. And he’d been forbidden to join them. It was a girls’ day, and he wasn’t invited.
Payton carried Lyle in one hand and the dainty butterfly purse Clay had given her for her birthday over her shoulder. She’d thrown in some play makeup, a notebook and pen, and her plastic cell phone—everything a girl could need.
When they got to Andie’s landing, however, the big-girl facade fell away.
“You can go watch for butterflies if you want,” Clay told her as he knocked on Andie’s door.
Payton glued herself to his side and shook her head. He looked down at her, puzzled, as Andie opened the door.
“Hi,” he said, then put one finger up and bent down to Payton. “What is it, girly? You don’t want to hunt for butterflies?” Payton shook her head and Clay picked her up. “Why not? You love butterflies.”
She squeezed the teddy bear and leaned on Clay’s shoulder. He looked in the front yard to see if someone was there. It was empty.
“Bees,” Andie said, studying his daughter. “Are you scared of getting stung again, sweetie?”
Payton nodded slowly, and Clay ached for her. What could he say though? The thought of her getting stung again filled him with dread too. Yet he couldn’t encourage her to become a hermit or to let her fears get the best of her.
“I’m right here. I can watch you the whole time. Remember we have your EpiPen to keep you safe if anything happens.” Clay held up the pink mini knapsack he’d bought especially for that purpose.
Her lower lip threatened to pop out as she pursed her lips and shook her head.
“You can stay with me until Aunt Bridget shows up.” He kissed her temple and tightened his hold on her.
“Oh, just a second. Got something for you,” Andie said.
She was inside for less than a minute. Bridget pulled up by the curb, and Payton squirmed to get down as Andie reappeared.
“Hey, birthday girl, here you go.” Andie handed Payton an envelope. “Take it with you.”
Payton smiled widely.
“Tell Miss Andie thank you,” Clay reminded her.
“Thank you.”
Andie hugged Payton. “Happy Birthday. I’ll see you at your party.”
oOo
“You’re lucky to have such a generous sister,” Andie said when Bridget and Payton were out of earshot. “Is the rest of your family like that?”
“They might be if I let them. I try not to rely on them too much. I don’t want to burden them with my responsibilities. Been there, done that. You ready to get a motorcycle?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe. Walking is for the birds.”
“Birds actually fly.”
She stopped and looked at him. “Funny. Didn’t realize you had it in you.”
“I’m a very funny guy if you get to know me.” They walked down the stairs side by side.
“I’m specifically not supposed to get to know you. Remember?”
“Touché.”
“So how much will this bike rental cost you?” she asked as they climbed into the truck.
“Enough that you should be nice to me.”
“I’m always nice to you.”
He laughed. “Yeah. Nice like a scorpion.”
oOo
Tension crackled between them in the truck. It might be an extended cab, but Clay always managed to make it feel cramped and too small just by virtue of sitting his long, muscled frame in the driver’s seat.
Andie crossed her arms and turned her head to watch the scenery out her window and ignore him, ignore the undercurrents.
She couldn’t wait to get her bike so she could stop relying on others. She wasn’t used to asking for favors and had tried to walk wherever she needed to go while hers was in the shop, but the times she needed to go to the mainland, she’d had to bum a ride.
Then there was the restlessness. The need to be out on the road, without a month-long lease or a promise to a friend weighing her down. Just her, the endless pavement, and a 1200cc engine between her legs.
The first couple of days without her motorcycle had nearly driven her over the edge. She’d felt penned in. Trapped. She’d started walking to Turtle Town whenever she could. Her mind stayed occupied at Turtle Town, unlike the duplex, where it wandered, wondering what her sexy landlord was doing at every creak or thump. Without her daily turtle trips, she’d swear to God she was in prison.
They turned down the alley, and Andie spotted Bud’s wooden sign. She watched Clay out of the corner of her eye while he maneuvered the truck into a parking space. As usual, she couldn’t remain indifferent to the sight. His square jaw was shadowed by the beginning of rough stubble. Dark glasses hid his eyes, but she knew the milk chocolate with gold flecks by heart anyway. She studied his profile, thinking for the thousandth time he’d been blessed with symmetry and perfection, marred only by the scar on the right side of his face, near his hairline. This time, though, there was no lingering resentment. She felt only the lure of him. How could she not, after getting to know him better?
She climbed down from the high seat, uneasy at that realization.
Bud greeted them as he came out of one of the bays, wiping his hands on a towel. “Waitin’ on a part but I’ve got her lookin’ a lot better,” he told Andie.
He took them inside and pointed toward her mostly intact motorcycle. Andie circled it, as if she’d be able to see if something was off. The urge to jump on it and ride away was overpowering, and she recognized it was partly because of the guy who’d driven her here.
“It’s starting to look like my bike,” she said. “How long will the part take to come in?”
“Still tryin’ to locate one, so I can’t say. Got a lead on a possibility though. Understand you’re wantin’ a loaner today.”
Andie glanced at Clay, who stood outside, browsing a couple of used Harleys for sale.
“How much is this going cost him?” she asked quietly.
“Loaner? Seventy a day plus insurance.”
Andie tried not to flinch. “And … how long do you think it’ll be before mine’s done?”
“No more than a couple weeks.”
“Lot of money.” She said it more to herself than him, but he apparently picked up on it.
“Cheap, actually. Lot of places charge a hundred, hundred and fifty a day. I’m not making a profit on it, just covering costs.”
She nodded. “What kind of bike would it be?”
He rattled off the model as he led her to the other side of the garage, but she didn’t pay much attention. It didn’t really matter what kind, did it? She glanced at Clay again.
He was the one who’d suggested renting a motorcycle. She hadn’t asked for it. He knew how much it would cost. They’d made a deal. So why should she not go through with it?
For one thing, it would be a tangible tie between them, one that his ex’s attorney could track down and present in court as proof of … somethin
g between them.
Beyond that, though, Andie could no longer consider taking advantage of Clay’s offer. He was a hardworking guy busting his ass to do right by his daughter. She was sure he could use the money for her somehow.
Chapter Twelve
Clay sat waiting for Andie on the bottom step outside their duplex, still trying to figure that woman out.
They’d argued in Bud’s lot over renting the motorcycle. Clay had thought she was feeling guilty again for Payton getting stung on her watch.
Andie had told him, in the end, he could throw away as much money as he wanted on a “stupid rental,” but she wouldn’t ride it if he paid her.
That was the stubborn woman he was familiar with, and the one he eventually decided to listen to.
The door behind him opened and he stood.
She wore light blue jeans that hugged her legs and ass but yet weren’t so tight or worn that his parents would think them inappropriate. On top, she had a white short-sleeved shirt mostly unbuttoned and a jade-green tank beneath it. The only signs of the Harley girl were the boots and the numerous earrings. Even her tattoos were pretty much hidden.
“You clean up well,” he said as she descended the stairway.
“Go ahead and say it. I can hear what you’re thinking.”
“Say what?”
“I clean up well for a biker girl.”
He tried not to stare at the alluring way her shirt opened just right so he could catch a glimpse of the curve of her breasts above the tank.
“I didn’t think that,” he said. “Well, not much.”
“You said your family would be there. I do have the sense to try to dress appropriately.”
It was more than appropriately. It was… She was hot, and it was hard to forget that as he followed her out to the carport.
“You didn’t have to buy her a gift,” Clay said, gesturing toward the box Andie carried.
“Are you kidding? I can’t show up at a four-year-old’s party without a present.”
“You’re good to her,” he said, moved more than he wanted to be by the gesture. “Thank you.”
This was a terrible idea … bringing Andie to the family party when all he wanted to do was sneak her away and peel those appropriate clothes right off of her.
But Payton was ecstatic that Miss Andie was coming, along with Miss Macey, who’d be working at the bar during the party but had promised she would come out and join them on the beach as often as she could.
They parked outside the Shell Shack, in the same spot Clay had when he knocked over Andie’s bike, and unloaded all the necessities he’d packed while Andie had changed clothes. They set up the mini grill close to the sea wall below the Shack and put the two large coolers — one full of meat and the other with drinks — in the shade. A few more trips and they’d brought bags of chips and deli-made side dishes, the presents from Clay and Andie, lawn chairs, and a beach blanket. Macey had stowed the rainbow-and-butterfly, pink-frosted cake in the bar’s kitchen earlier.
Clay tensed as his parents came down the concrete steps to the beach.
“Hey, Mom,” he said as she hugged him. His dad gave him his usual nod.
“Where’s the birthday girl?” Vince asked, glancing around and setting down two camp chairs. He looked right over Andie in the process, and that set Clay on edge.
“Bridget took her to that princess movie that’s out. They should be here any minute.” He relieved his mom of the presents she carried and set them with the others on the blanket. “Mom, Dad, this is Andie Tyler. She’s renting the lower unit from us and has become friends with Payton.”
“It’s nice to meet you, dear,” his mom said warmly, shaking Andie’s hand. “She’s a special little girl, isn’t she?”
“Yes, ma’am. She teaches me some of the frillier, girlier points I missed as a child.”
Clay saw his dad subtly inspect Andie. Andie either missed it or wasn’t bothered by it.
“Mr. Marlow,” she said, offering her hand. “You have good taste in baseball teams.” She glanced up at his Cubs hat approvingly.
Clay couldn’t have planned that better. If there was a way to his dad’s heart, it was baseball.
“You a fan?” he said, his gruff voice soft around the edges.
“I am.” She launched into a rehash of last night’s game, impressing both Clay and his dad. He wouldn’t have figured she could follow sports very well the way she traveled so much.
Clay and his mother moved to the grill to warm it up just as the birthday girl herself came bouncing down the steps at full speed.
“Grandma! Grandpa!” Payton ran to each of them and threw her arms around their legs.
“Sorry we’re late,” Bridget said, following at a more normal pace.
After hugging her grandpa, Payton grabbed Andie’s hand and told her all about the princess movie. To Andie’s credit, she nodded as if she’d been dying to hear all about it.
“Payton, what’s that on your arm?” Clay asked, removing his sunglasses to get a better view. She wore her brand-new orange-and-white-striped dress with cap sleeves and white sandals. It was tough to miss the large black blob on her upper arm.
“It’s a tattube, Daddy. Three butterflies. Like Miss Andie’s.”
“Where’d you get that?”
“In the birthday card from Miss Andie.”
“I picked up a book of temporary butterfly tats at the fair last night,” Andie explained. “I thought Payton would like them.”
He groaned to himself. What would his parents think? A tattoo…
“We need to wash that off, Payton,” he said sternly. “You’re too young for tattoos.”
“Aunt Bridget said it was okay. She has one too.”
Clay’s sister held up her ankle sheepishly, showing off the outline of a flower.
“Didn’t know it would be a problem, big guy. Sorry.”
“How do those come off?” Clay asked Andie, rubbing his daughter’s arm with his thumb.
“No idea,” Andie replied. “Mine don’t come off.”
The artwork didn’t smear or fade in the least at his touch.
“Oh, let her have a little fun, Clay. Your sisters used to love tattoos.” His mom inspected it more closely. “It is a pretty design, Payton.”
His mom disapproved of him trying to clean his daughter up. He suspected if he’d ignored the tattoo, his dad would disapprove of the way he raised Payton. Clay closed his eyes. He could never win.
“What do you need body art for, pumpkin?” his dad said, strolling over. “You’re perfect without it.”
“Miss Andie has tattubes, Grandpa.” She pointed at Andie and Clay cringed. “Lots of ’em.”
“What’s so special about this Miss Andie?” his dad asked. “Besides that she cheers for the right team.”
“She saved me.”
No. She did not just say that.
“What do you mean, she saved you, honey?” his mom asked, bending down to Payton’s level.
“She called the am-blu-lance to take me to the hospital.”
His mom looked up in alarm at him. “Clay?”
“Yeah. Uh, Payton got stung by a couple of bees. Turns out she’s allergic to bee stings. Andie was babysitting her and called 911 right away.” He couldn’t help smiling gratefully at Andie yet again.
“Bee stings? My lord, Payton.” His mom hugged the child to her. “Clay, why on earth didn’t you call us?”
“I didn’t want to worry you. By the time I could get to a phone, she was okay.”
And there was the part about him not wanting to hear how he might’ve handled things better or how he could’ve avoided the problem or what he’d done wrong. There was always that.
“So what happens with a bee-sting allergy?” his mom asked, studying Payton’s face as if to make sure she showed no signs of lingering problems.
“Her airway started closing up,” Clay said gravely. “Payton’s fine. Let’s talk about happier things. It’s he
r big day.”
His mom wasn’t ready to let it rest yet though. She hugged Payton close. “I’m so glad you’re okay, honey.”
Clay’s dad ambled closer to Andie. “Must’ve been quite the experience,” he said to her. “How’d you know what was happening?”
Was it Clay’s imagination or did his dad doubt Andie’s heroism?
“Scared the … scared me to death,” she said nervously. “I’d seen a similar reaction once before in someone else.”
Vince merely nodded and rubbed Payton’s head affectionately.
“I’ve got happy news,” Bridget said, and Clay instantly realized where she was going. Couldn’t she wait for another time? One that wasn’t supposed to be his daughter’s big day?
“Reid wanted to be here for this, but he had to work tonight.”
“What’s going on, Bridget?” his mom asked.
His sister looked around the circle at all of them. “We’re expecting a baby.”
Their mom squealed and hugged Bridget while their dad gauged Clay’s reaction.
“She told me earlier,” Clay confirmed.
Bridget looked at their dad expectantly.
“When are you getting married?” he asked.
Clay listened while Bridget went through the same spiel she’d given him a week ago, relieved, at least, that Payton wasn’t paying attention. Andie extracted herself from the intimate group and joined his daughter.
Not surprisingly, their father shook his head.
“This isn’t like my situation, Dad,” Clay said, feeling the need to try to help his sister out. “Bridget and Reid chose this. They’ll be in it together.”
“You think it’s okay?” his dad asked in disbelief.
“I think they’ll be fine.” It wasn’t a lie, even if it was dodging the true question.
“Clay chewed me out when I told him,” Bridget said. “He thinks we should get married. He said you’d blame him for this, but Clay has nothing to do with it.”
