Caught Up in You

by Kim Boykin

  “I told you to stay off my boat,” he snarled with the slightest smile. Just itching for a fight.

  “You’re not supposed to go out alone.” Declan’s words were clipped; he unclenched his fists. Breathe. Don’t get sucked into his game. “It’s not safe.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do, you little shit.”

  Okay. Someone has to be the grownup here. “I was worried about you, I—.”

  “Don’t be,” he shot back. “You don’t belong here. Go back to where you came from.”

  Man, he wanted to wrestle the old man to the ground and sit on him until he came to his senses. Suddenly, Declan was aware of his fingernails digging into his fists like he was itching to pummel the old man, the way he’d pummeled Declan’s mom. Was that what this was about? No. He was genuinely concerned. But why? He didn’t want to be. Yet, here he was on the docks, knowing full well his dad didn’t want him there, but needing to see for himself that the old man was okay.

  His father sidestepped like a toddler down the gangplank until he reached the dock and limped away, most likely headed toward the truck. Declan hadn’t said anything about the huge dent in the tailgate two weeks ago or the one on the front bumper he noticed last week. God, was it time to take the truck keys and the boat keys away from his father? He would have to wrestle him to the ground and knock him senseless to do that.

  Chapter Six

  After her lunch break, Shelby pushed through the door of Slick Chicks to find Stacia trying on a pair of strappy black sandals, perfect Alexander McQueen knockoffs. The boutique was empty except for Stacia, who was surrounded by shoeboxes. She sighed the way she did when she was a little tipsy and she was watching her boyfriend Sawyer’s band play. “I’m in love.”

  “And they call me the shoe whore?” Shelby laughed.

  “There’s a difference between you and me. I try them on and dream. You actually have a closet full of great shoes. We are the same size; I should just raid your closet. But these are so damn hot, I think I need them.”

  “Remember that Christmas I went a little crazy, too high end, and I ordered all those Jimmie Choos for the holidays? One of them was so gorgeous, I had a woman who wanted me to sell her just one shoe. Said it was a piece of art she wanted to put it on her mantle.”

  “Shoes are my art.”

  “I know.” Shelby sat down in a chair next to her and pulled on a silver metallic pair of reasonably priced Sam Edelman sandals. “Shoes are my chocolate,” she said which got her an incredulous look from Stacia. “Okay, chocolate is my chocolate too. And coffee.”

  “I’d have to sell a lot of coffee and have two full tip jars to afford these.” Stacia stood by the mirror and looked at her feet at every possible angle. “Who pays $300 for a pair of shoes anyway?”

  “You’d be surprised.” Shelby, for one, with the help of Visa and Mastercard, but she always paid off one pair before she bought another. It was kind of like always having a car payment, except she got to wear really cute shoes. “They’re a bargain when you consider the originals cost $1200.”

  “If I forgot about grad school and gave up my dream of becoming a therapist, I could have really amazing shoes.”

  “Who needs shoes when you have a really amazing guy?”

  “Bite your tongue.”

  “So, Sawyer is still out with the band?” Sawyer was a hot musician; he was romantic, loving and caring. When he was in town. The only other drawback? His mother, Camellia Bloom-Carrigan was one of the biggest wigs in town, who proudly owned the title of World’s Biggest Bitch. She adored her son and despised Stacia.

  Stacia took off the sandals and threw them back in the box without the least bit of reverence. “I hate summer. Sawyer’s always gone, most of the time touring beach towns with half-naked girls throwing themselves at him. I think about him all the time anyway, but now every time I do, I have that image burned into my brain. Not that I’ve ever seen him with girls like that, but—”

  Yeah, Shelby could relate. Since her near-date experience with Declan at the Piggly Wiggly, she couldn’t get him out of her mind either. And when she and Chelsea went to Bottoms Up last night to hear Lowcountry Boil, a fun bluegrass band, the place was packed, and Shelby couldn’t help but do a headcount of the women she was sure had known Declan Enright. Eight and two more she was reasonably sure fell into that category. Throw in the ex-fiancées, one of whom was a super model, and just thinking about him was a little intimidating. Okay, a lot intimidating.

  “Sawyer’s mother went to his show in Virginia Beach and tracked me down here this morning. She had a coffee in her hand so she’d obviously been by Bay City Beans looking for me. She whipped out her phone and showed me pictures of her visit with Sawyer and his fans, with their arms wrapped around him. It was like Camellia sought out the sluttiest-dressed girls on the planet and said, ‘Please pose with my son, so I can make his fiancée miserable.’” Stacia’s phone pinged with a text message; she glanced at it and growled. “Why is Sawyer’s mother so mean?”

  Stacia showed Shelby the pic she’d just received from Camellia. Poor Sawyer was sandwiched between two of the skankiest-looking girls with fake everything. The accompanying text read: Forgot to show you this one, sweetie. What lovely girls. Beautiful blondes. Twins no less. Was so happy to see both of them at the after party.

  “And why do slutty girls dress like that?” Stacia was nearly in tears.

  “Because they’re slutty. But look at Sawyer; he looks downright uncomfortable, and he’s made it very clear he loves you.” Shelby held Stacia’s left hand in front of her face. A beautiful princess cut diamond sparkled in the light coming in through the front window “Look, you’re getting married. So what’s up with all the whining?”

  “Yeah, when I get out of school, which will probably be never.”

  Shelby held the phone up to Stacia’s face. “Do you see him loving those girls back?”

  “No. But he was smiling.”

  “Like he does when he’s with his mom or when he’s with you?”

  “Like he does at his mom when she’s taking his picture,” Stacia groaned. “But that’s not the point. He’s not here with me, and I can’t be there with him. Which reminds me, I have to get back to my other job. Oh, and by the way, Darcy called to say she was sending over a big girlfriend group. She said be prepared, they’re armed with their twenty-five percent off coupons and are hardcore shoppers.”

  “Good, my favorite kind. Now, go,” Shelby said. “I’ll put these away.”

  As Stacia was leaving, eight women pushed through the door wearing their girlfriend weekend grins. By the looks of the shopping bags, they’d already been to Turquoise, Hannah’s store, and would no doubt take the famous shopping junket that began at Gwenn’s of Mt. Pleasant and ended on King Street in Charleston.

  “Hi ladies, welcome to Slick Chicks. I’ll put these shoes up and will be right with you.” Stacia had pulled out some new stock that Shelby hadn’t even tried on yet. She stacked all the boxes to take back to the stockroom, but the Tory Burch peacock blue strappy heels called to her, so she put the lid on the box and shoved it behind the counter to try on later. When she came back, the dressing room was abuzz with women trying on clothes, while the shoe aficionados were going for the good stuff. Yes this was going to be a good day.

  Those women didn’t mess around. Shelby worked her butt off and didn’t once think about Chelsea. Or Declan. It was just after seven and the shop was blessedly silent. She flipped off the funky neon Open sign, and grabbed the shoebox from behind the counter. Pulling back the tissue paper, she let out a dreamy sigh. So beautiful. She put one on and then the other. The heels were over four inches, a little taller than she normally wore, but they were gorgeous.

  She turned for a side view, and then the back; with tiny sexy bows on the ankle strap, they were the perfect date shoes. They came in six colors, including ivory and would also make the perfect wedding shoes.

  Having great girlfriends like the Si
x Chicks, had filled her relationship void for a long time. Sawyer and Stacia’s recent engagement and watching Miranda and Darcy swept off their feet had confirmed Shelby did want a groom, the wedding, the cake, the picket fence, and kids. Surprisingly, finding her sister in tears on her couch when she returned from her trek up the coast had not snuffed the desire out. If anything it had made it stronger to find the real thing.

  She hiked her skirt up to mid-thigh to see what the heels would look like in a shorter dress. “Definitely date shoes.”

  “Definitely gorgeous.”

  She almost fell off of those very high heels. “Oh, God, Declan.” She started to slip off one of the shoes, and it went flying. He caught it before it smacked him in the head. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Allow me.” Instead of slipping the other shoe off, he knelt in front of her and took the mantle of Prince Charming, only she wasn’t even close to being as graceful as Cinderella. She wobbled like a colt on new legs and would have fallen on her ass if she hadn’t grabbed his shoulders to steady herself as he slipped the shoe back on.

  Her brain kicked in. What was she doing? This was Declan freaking Enright, three-time runaway groom. Gorgeous? Yes. Dangerous? Yes. Albeit an unintentional slayer of hearts, he could steal hers a second time and crush her like Matt did Chelsea. Like Declan had crushed her heart so very long ago. Could she survive that? With the help of the Chicks and copious amounts of wine and chocolate? Yes. Maybe. But did she want that? No, she wanted safe. Safe was better, and Declan Enright definitely wasn’t safe.

  That thought made her try to pull away, and, when she did, he looked up at her. For a second or an eternity, she wasn’t sure which, she lost herself in those brown eyes; her fingers dug into his broad shoulders. The way he looked at her when his hand slid the strap up the back of her heel shouldn’t have been one of the most sensuous things she’d ever known, but it was. With the exception of the first and only time he made love to her, which he didn’t even remember.

  He slid his hand up the back of her calf until it rested on the back of her knee. He had the most sexy but baffled look on his face. Oh shit, was he having a déjà vu moment? She didn’t want him to remember. Did she? No. It was too embarrassing that she’d just been another lay to him. Totally forgettable.

  “Exquisite.”

  Her face went hot. “They’re just shoes.” She pulled away from him.

  “Date shoes.” He smiled, sitting back on his heels, like the experience had affected him as much as it had her. “It’d be a shame to put them back in the box, don’t you think? I was just on my way to grab a drink, but these are definitely date shoes. At the very least, dinner shoes.” He opened his wallet and handed her his credit card. “I’d really like to buy them.”

  “They don’t come in your size,” she said, laughing. This wasn’t the first guy who had offered to buy her a pair of shoes. For the record she really was not a shoe whore, but, hey, if a guy wanted to contribute to her impressive collection, who was she to say no. But she needed to say no to Declan Enright; he was exactly what she was not looking for.

  “Maybe we can work out some kind of custody arrangement. I buy them and you wear them.” Say no. Just say no. “For me.”

  He sealed the deal with a crooked smile.

  Chapter Seven

  She said yes, and why did that one little word zing around inside him like fireworks? Probably because she was exquisite, her face, her lips her hair, and those eyes that changed color, depending on what she wore. With her slinky jade sundress on, they were such a beautiful shade of green. He was torn between taking her to dinner or taking her back to his studio to paint her. Or just taking her.

  He’d almost groaned watching those long legs as they’d folded into his car with those damn high heels that had his tongue nearly hanging out of his mouth. He’d loved flirting with her at the Piggly Wiggly, and was more than a little shocked when she’d turned down his dinner invitation. Something about her, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, was familiar but incredibly intriguing. And very sexy.

  He’d been headed to Bottoms Up to grab a beer, but when he saw her shop, he’d thought he’d ask her to join him. Then he’d seen her through the window, and he couldn’t stop himself. Before he knew it, he’d opened the shop door and was kneeling at her feet. Worshiping her. Not quite the way he wanted to, but still.

  “Let me text Chelsea and tell her I won’t be home for dinner.” When she smiled, she was so beautiful his heart ached. Shit. This wasn’t like him. Usually he was the one being fawned over, and he liked that. What guy didn’t?

  She sent a couple of texts, then slipped her phone into her purse. “Where are we going?”

  He had no idea where he was taking her and didn’t care. All he knew was that he would follow those peacock heels anywhere. But there was something else that was niggling him. Sure she was gorgeous, but why did he want her so badly? There’d been some chemistry when they were in college. A lot of chemistry actually, but she’d been so young, and he’d known he was going to leave South Carolina the first chance he got. But just now, touching her, wanting her? It had almost felt like she was already his. Like she’d always belonged to him.

  He shook the thought out of his head. “What’s your favorite place in Charleston?”

  “Oh.” She blushed, absolutely slaying him. “We can just go somewhere around here.”

  “You sure?” She nodded, and he headed toward Crusoe’s, a little white tablecloth place by the marina. “Okay, but for future reference, what is your favorite restaurant in Charleston?”

  “You’re joking. Right?”

  Since his last stint playing fiancée roulette, he’d enforced a three-date limit. Before that, he’d been a little too adept at falling for gorgeous women who’d fallen for him. Maybe it was the artist in him that got so caught up in their beauty. But he’d hurt some people along the way, something he regretted. Three fiancées. Three.

  With each one of them, he’d really thought he could do it, commit to just one woman. Holly. Elizabeth. Denise. He’d actually made it halfway through a ceremony once, but he’d left them all at the altar with the best apology he could muster. And they’d all forgiven him. Still loved him, were still his friends. Except Denise.

  “Okay. Your top five restaurants in Charleston.” He pulled into the gravel lot, shoved the car in Park, and hit the stopwatch on his phone. “You have fifteen seconds. Go.”

  “That’s like asking me to choose between my sister and my cat.”

  “Wow, you really love your sister. Seven seconds.”

  “S.N.O.B., High Cotton, Charleston Grill, Tristian’s, and Hall’s,” she said in one breath.

  “Got it.” He wouldn’t have to write them down, three of the five were his favorites too.

  “Choosing favorites just felt wrong,” she said, laughing.

  He wasn’t sure exactly what it was about Shelby Worthington that made him want to throw the three-date rule out the window, but he did. He hurried around the car and opened the door for her. “Come on. I’ll wine you and dine you; you’ll feel better in no time.”

  She swung those long beautiful legs out of the car and stopped short when her feet touched the oyster shell parking lot. “Something wrong?” he asked. Must be, the color was gone from her face.

  Shelby had been to Crusoe’s a million times since she was fourteen for milestone events, birthdays, prom night, grown-up dates, and the most memorable, her parents’ fiftieth anniversary party a few months before the accident. Her parents were getting ready to leave for one of those twenty-eight day tours to Europe where you hop on a different bus every five seconds to see a different sight, so that you saw as much of Europe as was humanly possible. Only there was never enough time to actually experience anything. Maybe the two-hour Rhine River tour, but it’s a big river for just two hours. Those tours are for folks who want to tick off a very long list of places they’ve been at cocktail parties. Not that Dad was ever much on pa
rties. But the tour was his gift to her mother, and Mom had been ecstatic about the trip.

  Shelby stared down at her shoes. A cold chill crept up the back of her neck and made her shudder and it had nothing to do with the thought of her peacock blue leather heels sinking down into the razor sharp oyster shells. She never came here without thinking about her parents. It was never more than just a pause to remember, but now the feeling of loss was much more pronounced. Her eyes stung. She opened her mouth to beg off, but before she could, Declan scooped her up and was carrying her over the shells. “Can’t let you mess up my shoes,” he said, laughing.

  It should have been awkward, but it was like he’d pulled her out of her reverie. Besides, he felt like heaven and smelled like it too. Of course it was out of practicality that her arms wrapped around his neck, but she did resist the urge to lay her head against his chest. When he set her feet down on the steps to Crusoe’s and pulled away, the loss of that connection almost made her whimper. He opened the door for her, and they walked into the small reception area.

  “Declan? Oh, my God.” And with that, his first fiancée, Holly McManus, launched herself into Declan’s arms. “I haven’t seen you in forever” When? Since he left you at the altar? “No, it was last spring when Danny and I came to New York.”

  On cue, Danny Crusoe, lumbered out of the kitchen. Holly unlatched herself from Declan and laid her head on Danny’s chest, wrapping her arms around six feet of hard Italian muscle. “Declan.” Danny’s thin smile said he was barely tolerating Holly’s outpouring of affection toward the runaway groom.

  “Hey, Danny, I hear congratulations are in order. Holly told me you’re expecting, and the wedding’s, what? Christmas?”