by Tracy March
“We’ve been in there,” his mom said, as if they’d braved something dangerous and survived.
His dad nodded. “I remember the cinnamon rolls. Best I’ve ever had, believe it or not.”
At least there was that.
“I can’t believe Sylvia and John would allow Liza to have someone like that as her maid of honor.”
Lane had never seen his parents act so judgmental. Sure, they’d offered him lots of opinions and guidance over the years—most he’d agreed with, if only in hindsight, and some that he hadn’t. He’d made his own decisions and mistakes, yet he valued their approval. They’d never caught him in such a compromising position, but still. They could at least have the courtesy to keep their negative comments to themselves. He’d had nearly enough of the someone like thats and the girl like hers. And he’d had far too much of his parents influencing his life. “Why not? There’s way more to her than tattoos and thongs. Here’s the ‘lord knows what else.’ She used to have a sweet job as a pastry chef at the Hay-Adams in DC—somewhere else you’ve been, and maybe even eaten her cinnamon rolls there. Would you have felt differently about her then?
“Sadly, her mom got lung cancer so she moved home to Maple Creek to care for her while she was dying, then stayed there with her dad because she couldn’t bear to leave him alone now that it’s just the two of them. She runs the bakery and focuses on making healthy pastries, especially for the older people in town. It’s more expensive and time-consuming for her, but she happily does it, and doesn’t pass the extra cost on because lots of her customers are on fixed incomes.”
Lane thought back on what he’d just said, realizing he’d just convinced himself that what Paige did was actually important to the community, and he was beginning to see her side more clearly. He still couldn’t change his position about helping her, but he could better relate to where she was coming from.
“Then I came along,” he said ruefully. “Because of all the trouble Stephanie caused in Austin—and every move I make is being scrutinized—I couldn’t risk helping her like Uncle Pete does, and it could really hurt her business.”
“Pete helps her?” his mom asked suspiciously.
“They have a system where he tells her what each patient needs diet-wise—fat-free, gluten-free—and she bakes it. It’s legit, with HIPAA forms and everything, but technically it could raise questions. I can’t afford to be questioned again.”
“No you can’t,” his dad said emphatically. Being a hospital administrator, he knew a thing or two about the system.
Someone knocked on the door.
“That would be breakfast.” Lane had a fleeting thought about how it would’ve gone with Paige if they’d had the breakfast in bed he’d planned. Just thinking about being with her short-circuited all his thoughts. He blinked several times, trying to clear his head.
“Have you eaten?” he asked his parents.
His dad glanced at his watch as if to convey that breakfast hours had passed a long time ago. “Yes.”
“Then you can sit with me while I eat,” Lane said.
His mom nodded, smoothing her hair away from her eyes.
Lane walked over and answered the door. Gerard stepped inside carrying a large tray with Lane’s breakfast order. His eyes widened at the sight of the Andersons out on the patio, and he looked curiously at Lane, who shrugged. “It was a surprise to me too, man,” Lane said quietly.
Gerard gave him a wide, white grin, and took the tray to the table on the patio where Lane’s parents had seated themselves at the dining table. While Gerard chatted with them, Lane lagged behind, discreetly scooped Paige’s thong out of the pool, and hung it to dry in the bathroom. He remembered the smoothness of her thighs beneath his eager fingers as he peeled it off of her last night. Now that seemed like an awfully long time ago.
Lane went and sat at the table, wasting no time digging into the piping hot omelet. “Delicious,” he said through a mouthful of fluffy eggs and gooey cheese. “But not nearly as good as yours,” he said to his mom, trying to lighten things up. She’d admittedly never been the best cook.
She gave him a tight smile, and he knew their discussion wasn’t over.
“You’re never going to get back together with Stephanie behaving like this,” his mom said. “If she found out—”
“Right, Mom,” Lane said, his temper flaring again. “I’m never going to get back together with Stephanie. You should’ve just stopped there. It’s over. Let it go.”
They’d managed to forgive Stephanie for all the hell she’d put him through—at least all the hell they knew about. The pill prescribing, the investigation, her suspension, her and Lane’s practice being shut down because of it all. Because she was a doctor, she was from the right kind of family, they knew her parents, they were good people, and we all make mistakes—some of them terrible. Their parents had literally set the two of them up years ago. All these reasons had initially influenced Lane to forgive Stephanie, and he’d tried to work through things with her.
Lane bit into a juicy-sweet piece of just-ripe mango and chewed deliberately.
“I understand the situation is complicated.” His dad finally got a word in. “Maybe with some more counseling, you and Stephanie can work things out. She’s been cleared of the charges, you know.”
Lane nearly choked on the mango. He hadn’t known. He’d tried to move forward with his life and block out any more information about hers. “No, I didn’t know. But the damage is done. I lost my good reputation in Austin. I lost my practice.” He gazed out at the sea, glistening in the sun. “I lost friends. Even lost my home and the woman who was supposed to become my wife.”
“But you can get all that back,” his dad said. “Just not in Austin.”
“It’s time to stop being proud, Lane.” His mom fixed him with a stern look.
A burst of adrenaline fueled Lane’s temper. Despite the breeze, heat prickled on his skin. He tossed the fork on his plate with a clang, startling his parents. “Proud? Is that what you think? Well that’s not it at all. I stood by Stephanie. I forgave her. I endured the embarrassment and the press and the finger-pointing when I’d done nothing questionable. But after all that, when I found out she was having an affair with her lawyer—the guy who got all the charges dropped, I guess—that was it for me.”
His parents stared at him, stunned. Lane couldn’t believe he’d protected Stephanie this long by not giving them the last piece of the miserable puzzle that had been their relationship.
After a moment, his mother cleared her throat and said, “Surely you must have been mistaken.”
Lane’s temper flared. “I caught her in our bed with her lawyer, Mom. There was no mistake about it.”
…
“So your thong is still in Lane’s pool?” Liza asked Paige. She and Sylvia had laughed so hard at Paige’s story that they’d had to wipe tears from their eyes. Even the St. Lucian women giving them pedicures in the open-air spa were discreetly giggling.
“Unless Lane fished it out.” Paige shook her head, still mortified by what had happened after such an amazing night. Even though she, Sylvia, and Liza sat like queens on thrones in their cushy pedicure chairs, Paige felt like the village idiot.
“I would love to have seen Karen’s face,” Sylvia said, obviously struggling not to bust out laughing again.
“I’d tell you what it looked like if I’d seen it.” Paige pressed her eyes closed for a few seconds, hoping she’d open them to find that this was all a silly nightmare. “As it was, there was no way I was looking anywhere near that woman’s eyes after my thong went flying.”
“So you left there wrapped in a sheet?” Sylvia asked.
“I would’ve run out naked if I had to, just to get away.”
Sylvia and Liza shared a look and let loose laughing.
Paige grinned from sheer embarrassment.
“Did you return the sheet?” Of course Liza would ask such a pragmatic question.
“Are you k
idding? It’s still in my sanctuary. No way was I risking going back over there and running into Mr. and Mrs. Sternface again.” The pedicurist touched a ticklish spot on Paige’s foot and she flinched. “I’ll just have to think of some way to avoid them…forever, starting with the cruise tonight.”
“That’s going to be a real trick, since we have you and Lane seated with them,” Sylvia said.
Paige’s stomach flipped. “Get out.” She looked to Liza to save her, but Liza simply nodded.
“We figured it’d be a perfect opportunity for you to get to know them,” Sylvia said.
“For real?” Just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse. “Please tell me you guys are jacking with me. It’s going to be bad enough to be on the same boat with them, in the same sea, but at the same table?” Paige flattened her palm against her stomach. “I swear I’m not hungover but, for the second time today, I think I might throw up.”
The pedicurist looked up at Paige, wide-eyed. “Should I get a pail?”
“No.” Paige rubbed her stomach. “It’s okay.”
“I’m sure Karen and Don were a little surprised at the scene they happened upon,” Sylvia said. “But you and Lane are adults. And he deserves a break after the rough go he’s had.” She shook her head, her face lined with concern.
“He told me he was engaged,” Paige said, “and how he had to leave Austin because his life was so mixed in with his fiancée’s.”
Sylvia and Liza gazed at Paige expectantly.
“What?” Paige asked. “Did you guys know her?”
They quickly glanced at each other and shook their heads in unison. “Only enough to decide they were definitely not a match.” Sylvia always had a diplomatic way of saying things, and it made Paige even more curious about Lane’s ex.
“He said he’s not in love with her anymore.”
“I wouldn’t think so,” Liza said. “He’s not the kind to”—she cleared her throat suggestively— “make out with a girl if he was still hung up on a different one.”
Paige decided not to tell them it was only a fling. An even shorter fling than she’d imagined, since Lane probably didn’t want to risk being with her again and incurring the wrath of his mom and dad. Her heart hitched with regret that her time with him had gone so fast.
“Evidently a couple other people are still hung up on her, though,” Paige said.
Sylvia looked at her curiously. “Who?”
“His parents.”
“Uh-oh,” Liza said.
Sylvia narrowed her eyes.
“Did you ever see his fiancée?” Paige asked.
“Only pictures.” Liza gazed out at the view—a decadent luxury available almost anywhere they went at Caldera—suddenly seeming mesmerized. Paige agreed it was stunning, but there was nothing different about it that should’ve captivated Liza’s attention now. Sylvia ran her fingers over the hem of her shorts, smoothing out wrinkles that weren’t there.
“And?” Paige asked. “Share a little intel, would you?”
“Her name was Stephanie.” Liza shrugged. “Dark hair, medium height. Pretty in a reserved kind of way.”
“Nowhere near the knockout you are.” Sylvia winked. She could always be counted on for a motherly confidence boost. “No wonder Lane doesn’t know what hit him.”
“Aw, thanks.” Paige smiled ruefully, as an unexpected wave of jealousy washed over her. She’d had a one-night fling with Lane, but crazy Stephanie could’ve had him for a lifetime.
“What color would you like on your toes?” Liza’s pedicurist asked her.
Liza rummaged in her purse that was on the floor next to her chair and pulled out a bottle of nail polish. “Blue for me and my maid of honor.” She tipped her head toward Paige, and handed the pedicurist the bottle.
“That color’s a dead-on match for my dress.” Paige grinned, immensely thankful that neither the polish nor her dress had turned out to be Orioles orange. “But you’re doing blue, too?” she asked Liza.
“Something old,” Sylvia said, “something new. Something borrowed, something blue.”
“Might as well be my toenails,” Liza said happily.
“See?” Paige wiggled her toes excitedly. “Something orange wouldn’t have rhymed at all.”
Chapter Sixteen
Eager to see Paige, Lane hopped aboard the sleek, gleaming seventy-two-foot catamaran yacht just before it was scheduled to leave the dock. After the emotional scene with his parents this morning, he’d spent some of the day with his guitar, and all of it thinking about Paige. They were officially just having a fling, but he was officially amazed at how he’d come to her defense with his parents. Not only because he was tired of them influencing his life, but also because he really liked her—a lot. More than even he’d realized until his parents had walked in, all judgmental. He’d rarely seen that side of them, mostly because they’d usually agreed on his life choices.
Paige had said she was doing a spa day with Liza and Sylvia today, as well as some last-minute wedding things, but that hadn’t stopped him from going to her sanctuary midafternoon. He’d wanted to try to smooth over what had happened with his parents that morning, and also steal a kiss…or more. But she hadn’t been there. Even so, his consolation had been pretty awesome—he’d run into Cole and ended up having a couple of beers with him. The guy was amazingly down-to-earth, considering all he’d accomplished, and seemed more impressed by Lane being a doctor than he was with himself being a pro baseball phenomenon. He and Liza were an unlikely pair, yet they were completely into each other.
Like I’m into Paige right now? He wasn’t sure how well he was doing with the fling idea. It had sounded good when Paige proposed it, but how was he supposed to go back to Maple Creek and act as if nothing had happened between them? He took a deep breath and blew it out with a hiss. She’d been right. He was uptight, or maybe just traditional. The whole setup was hard for him to wrap his head around, but that’s what they’d agreed to. Right now, he had two more nights with Paige. He’d be a fool to waste them worrying about what his parents thought, or what would happen afterward.
“Welcome aboard,” the crewman said. “Happy you could join us.”
“Me, too.” Lane smiled at the crewman, amazed that the St. Lucians always seemed to be smiling and genuinely eager to please. If he could only get an entire office and nursing staff to act the same way…
He had to admit, this was the most excited he’d ever been about going to a so-called rehearsal dinner—a sunset champagne and lobster cruise. It was casual enough that he was wearing a nice pair of black shorts and a light-blue collared shirt that caught the sea breeze as he’d stepped aboard. From what Cole had said, there’d be no rehearsing, and plenty of dinner. Also drinks and an island reggae band.
And Paige.
He made his way across the expansive deck to the back of the catamaran yacht, where everyone was gathered. Scanning the group, Lane guessed there were twenty-five guests, and he knew about a third of them. A bright flash of pink fluttered in the corner of his eye. He glanced at the upper deck to catch a profile view of Paige rocking a tastefully snug pink sundress, her blond hair cinched in a low ponytail, her shapely, bare legs visible between the railings—the poster girl for playful and sexy. He got that excited, seesaw feeling inside—one he’d nearly forgotten—and caught himself looking for the shortest route to the upper deck.
She tipped her head back and laughed, shifting her stance just enough for him to see who had her attention. The guy was about their age, tall and fit, and more put together than Lane would’ve liked. He looked as if he might be related to Paige, with his short, blondish hair and the shape of his face. The guy laughed with her as they toasted each other, and he familiarly rested his hand at the small of her back. Lane tensed with jealousy. He could only hope she was related to the guy. Judging by their body language, she knew him well, and she seemed perfectly comfortable with him touching her.
Sylvia stepped over to greet him, savin
g Lane from dwelling on the unfamiliar jealousy that whirled inside him. She gave him a motherly hug. “Looks like the island atmosphere is agreeing with you.” She smiled knowingly, and he wondered how much she knew about what had gone on between him and Paige. He could only imagine how much girl gossip had gone on at the spa today. Sylvia would definitely get another perspective on the story from his parents if the subject happened to come up.
“I could get used to it, that’s for sure.” Lane pushed his hands into his pockets and stole a glance at the upper deck, where Paige was deep in conversation with whoever-he-was. She’d stirred up some positive emotions he hadn’t expected, but he could do without the insecurity he felt right now.
“All set with the music for tomorrow?” she asked.
Lane nodded, stealing another glance at Paige and Mr. Too Close for Comfort. As far as he could tell, she hadn’t torn her attention away from the guy long enough to even notice him. His thoughts swirled with confusion. Maybe she thought their fling was over after what had happened with his parents. But would she go looking for another one so quickly? She didn’t seem like that type of girl, although she didn’t seem like the fling type, either.
“Cole and Liza picked some nice pieces,” he said to Sylvia.
She chuckled.
“What?”
“That was all Liza. Given his rathers, Cole would have Liza walking down the aisle to country rock.”
A waiter dressed in a bright, tropical-print shirt came around with a tray and offered Lane and Sylvia rum punch. Both took a glass.
“I hear you and Paige are getting along well,” Sylvia said with a gleam in her eyes.
Obviously she hadn’t seen Paige on the upper deck. Lane wondered what Paige had told Sylvia about last night and this morning. He took a long swallow of the rum punch. “You’re quite a matchmaker.”
She beamed. “So far, I’m batting a thousand.”
Lane didn’t have the heart to tell her that his match-up with Paige might’ve only been a one-night thing.
