9781631056314TattooedHeartsJolieNC

by Mika Jolie

  Blake opened his mouth to say otherwise, but seemed to think better of it.

  “Gotta go. I have snow to shovel.”

  “Wait, you’re the lucky speed dial this time and not me?” Blake said in a dejected tone.

  All four of them were on Mrs. Kane’s speed dial for emergencies. They loved it. She was Maxie’s grandmother, one of the island’s oldest locals, proud member of the town’s gossip crew, his favorite Lyme disease patient, and she made the best damn S’mores cookies in the world. Today luck was on his side. “I’m the lucky one. And she will probably make…”

  “S’mores chocolate chip cookies,” Blake finished.

  Forrest chuckled. “Send me a text with a location for drinks later,” he said over his shoulder before walking out of the gym.

  A little over an hour later, Forrest absently massaged the stabbing pain in his left shoulder, and kicked off his snow boots before entering the colonial home. The aroma of freshly baked S’mores chocolate chip cookies, full of heaven, filled his nostrils. He walked into Mrs. Kane’s TV room; murmurs of undying love filled his ears. Mrs. Kane’s daily soap opera droned out any other sound in the house and turned back time. His mother and Claire had been soap opera addicts.

  Memories flickered like a blazing bushfire. While his mother used to openly dedicate at least one hour of the day to her favorite show, Claire had been a closet addict. One day he'd walked away from a volleyball match at East Beach to bike back to the Montgomery compound with her, only to watch her drool over some actor.

  He’d teased her, over and over, but like a true sap struck by Cupid’s arrow, he eventually started watching with her. He could care less about the half-naked women walking around, although the view had been an added perk for his young adult hormones. But most importantly, sitting there with Claire, for one or two hours, just the two of them, had been the best part of his days. The last time he’d watched any daytime television other than sports-related news had been the day of her eighteenth birthday, lying in bed beside her with General Hospital as backdrop to their lovemaking.

  Memories were the worst kind of monsters.

  He shoved them to the back of his subconscious and focused his attention on his patient. Earlier this morning Mrs. Kane had called for some assistance with her driveway. Fatigue and body aches were two common side effects from someone fighting Lyme disease. Since diagnosed the older woman was well on her way to recovery, but Forrest always feared a chance of relapse.

  “Forrest, I mean Doctor Desvareaux,” The seventy-plus-year-old woman greeted him with a bright smile. Her armchair perfectly positioned to face the television. “Come sit down.” She gestured toward the antique wooden chair across from her. “I baked some cookies. Would you like some?”

  Forrest watched her pick up the plate of freshly baked cookies from the small lamp table. He smiled and ran a hand over his abdomen, but reached for the cookies anyway. He and his friends had a mutual understanding with the older woman. She baked cookies and they shoveled her snow. “You’re trying to fatten me up, Anne.”

  She winked at him with eyelashes matted down with mascara. “Son, if I were twenty years younger, I’d make a play for you.”

  Twenty years would put her at exactly fifty-four. Close to his mother’s age. But no need to go there. “Your driveway is spotless.”

  Mrs. Kane stretched her neck for a better view of the television screen. “I meant to call Jason or Blake. Last thing you need right now is me bothering you.”

  “You could never bother me.” He took a bite of the cookie and savored the combination of chocolate, marshmallow, and graham crackers. A total healthy lifestyle buster, but so worth it. “What’s in these things? So delicious.”

  “Did you check on your mother?”

  “My mother is fine.” He ignored the tightness in his gut.

  “You spoke to her? She’s all alone on that farm of yours.”

  “It’s not my farm. And she has help.” He reached in the leather bag for his stethoscope and thermometer. “Let’s do a quick physical.”

  Less than two minutes later, Mrs. Kane had the pleasure of hearing she had no fever. Forrest tapped her knee and checked her reflexes, then her breathing.

  “Looks like you’re healthy as a fifty–year-old.” He picked up his phone and typed in a reminder to check on her doxycycline prescription. “Everything looks good. Next time call me and I’ll come shovel your snow or anything else you need done around the house.”

  She smiled. “You’re a good boy, Forrest. We need to find you a good woman.”

  A vision of Claire sleeping in his arms popped into his head. He tapped another reminder. Claire: Poison. Stay away. “Anything you need done before I leave?”

  The Lyme disease, a rampant curse on the island, had left Mrs. Kane with some physical limitations. Since she tired easily, he tried to keep her from any strenuous physical activity.

  “I think I’ll be okay. Have you checked on the auction?”

  Truthfully, he’d forgotten all about it. Late last summer, the guys decided to help raise money to move Gay Head Lighthouse by having an auction. Each had agreed to put something of theirs up for bids, but since they were all married, happily so, he’d been coerced into a date with the highest bidder. “No, I haven’t.”

  She pulled out her cell phone from somewhere in the sofa’s cushion and scrolled through. She studied whatever she was looking at then smiled. “Well, Adam is leading the bidding.” She grimaced. “But you’re a strong second.”

  “Adam has the best prize,” he said after another bite.

  “What’s his prize again?” Memory loss and confusion were side effects of the disease that plagued the island.

  “An all-expense paid trip to one of his races overseas.”

  “That is a great prize. And as sexy as Adam is, I’d bet on it too. Just to be on the sideline. And that beautiful wife of his, I like her,” she said once the show went into commercial. “What’s her name again?”

  “Lily,” he responded, although he’d bet all of his savings, Lyme disease or not, Mrs. Kane knew everyone’s name on the island.

  She waved a hand. “What does he call her?”

  “Liliana.”

  “Yes.” She beamed. “I love that he calls her by her full name in that sexy accent of his. You’re sexy too, but you know…the bookish kind.”

  “Thanks.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Maxie calls you guys the four hotties.”

  He made a mental note to beg Maxie, their favorite waitress at Vapor, to stop referring to him as a hottie. While at it, drop the “sexy,” “hottie,” or whatever.

  “Well, you don’t have an accent.”

  Forrest picked up his bag. He always enjoyed a visit with Anne, but damn it his shoulder blade was officially burning. Ice pack and ESPN should do the trick. Something deep in his heart whispered Claire’s name and tried to tell him to call her, but he ignored it. “I should leave before my ego is fully deflated.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly.” She laughed and Forrest couldn’t help but smile. “I love you. You’re my favorite doctor out of your crew.”

  “I’m the only doctor.”

  “Technicality.” She handed him the phone. “Anyhow, it appears you made the news.”

  Frowning Forrest took the phone from Anne and looked at the screen. A picture of Claire standing next to him with her hand encased in his, both of them looking solemn. He glanced over the words.

  The reason for Claire Peters walking away from her career seems to be to comfort her longtime friend and apparent first love. I think there’s still something there between those two. They are burning the pages. H-O-T! What say you, readers? Word on the streets…he’s a long lost Montgomery. More to come.

  Forrest groaned over the invasion of privacy. Not that he was surprised by it. A lot of people probably overheard the shouting match between him, his mother, Jason, and Charles at the repass. While the people on the Vineyard were guarded and protecti
ve of their own, the funeral had attracted outsiders. One of them probably took that damn picture and went straight to the media.

  His stomach churned.

  Adam and Jason both had had their share dealing with the media. Jason had to deal with his mother’s death with photographers in his face. For years Adam had a reporter breathing down his throat, digging into his past. They both managed not to feed the beast. Claire as well, she lived under a microscope. It was probably worse for her. He’d seen a few of the magazines she headlined. The tabloids described even the most salacious details of the private lives of the rich and famous. But Claire seemed to understand and accepted it. Forrest wanted none of the flash or notoriety that came with being a star or with the Montgomery name.

  Montgomery. The name slashed at him with betrayal.

  “We won’t go into you being a Montgomery and all. But for the record, my friends and I always suspected.”

  “I see.” His tone came out much more bitter than he’d intended.

  “Oh, darling, I never thought I’d see you so angry. You’ll have to let it go sooner or later. Holding on to pain is not good for the heart.” She handed him the tray of cookies again. “Speaking of matters of the heart, how are things between you and our town superstar?” Anne’s voice rose with interest. “I mean, she’s the love of your life. Everyone knows that.”

  The admission didn’t surprise him. One of the perks of living on an island was everyone knew everyone’s business. Good or bad. “There’s nothing between me and Claire. We are friends.”

  Those words made him a liar and in denial for refusing to accept the obvious reality of his situation. First, they were not friends. They hadn’t been in a long time. Second, no way in hell was he over Claire. Not one bit. Never mind he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind for the last decade.

  No matter how carefully he tried to compartmentalize their relationship, she still coursed through his veins. The other night had been the icing on the cake, the light that lit his bonfire heart. He wanted more. He’d take it slow this time and touch, kiss every inch of that wicked body of hers.

  He raked a hand through his hair. She got through to him once before, even when common sense told him to stay away. She’d been too young, too impressionable, too naïve. He’d gone ahead and defied logic, followed his heart and took the plunge.

  In the end she walked away with no explanation. Not even a goodbye.

  He wanted none of that.

  He’d be foolish to go down that slippery road again.

  Chapter Twelve

  “How to save your heart – Don’t get affected.”

  Forrest Montgomery Desvareaux

  Rustic barn pendant light cords hung from the beams on the high ceiling, giving the recreation center a warm and intimate feel. Tables stretched from one end of the room to the other, layered with trays of wood-fired pizza from Flatbread, lobster rolls, tapas style plates from Vapor. Grilled trout with lemon prepared by Adam and Lily sat among mounds of fragrant wild rice, potatoes, and diced pumpkin smeared with butter and spices. Countless cheeses with baskets of crackers, bread rolls shaped as seashells, and various salads and side dishes.

  Claire placed her mother’s smoked sausages and the pineapple-glazed ham on the table, then scanned the packed room. Adam had one arm around Lily’s shoulder while talking to Blake, Jason and Tyler, the owner of Flatbread Pizzeria and her first kiss. Familiar faces–old, young, former classmates, hugging, laughing, and talking the night away. The world and his wife were here tonight.

  “I’m going to go talk to a friend.” Her mother leaned in a little closer. “No one here would ever contact the tabloids,” she said, referring to the picture of Claire and Forrest from the funeral currently making the rounds. “We don’t do that to one of our own. So relax and enjoy being home tonight. It feels good, doesn’t it?”

  It didn’t. Regardless of the warm greetings she always received from everyone, she wasn’t one of them. Not anymore. Not since she learned she’d never be good enough because she was the maid’s daughter.

  Her mother squeezed her hand then walked away. Claire watched her. Shoulders squared. Chin up. Her mother stood no taller than she did, yet she carried an air of confidence and seemed to own the room as she sauntered through the happy, chattering crowd. Within seconds, her mother fell into an effortless conversation with a few women from one of her social clubs. She might not have the financial wealth as the others in her circle, but her mother belonged here. The island and the people were as much a part of her as she was a part of them. Her home.

  The familiar empty feeling reared up in her. Arms crossed over her chest, Claire stood rooted to the spot.

  The aroma, the sea of faces, like pebbles on the beach, drone-like chatter of best friends, laughter of children, lovers holding hands, The Killers’ Mr. Brightside blaring out of the subwoofers, conjured up memories of a time gone and a place she no longer called home. For a moment, she became lost in a transitory evocation of her childhood–Mickey Mouse every Saturday morning, watching a storm come in on the beach, riding her bike with the sparkling streamers while the boys chased behind. But she’d been away too long, and now it all felt like a half-forgotten dream. But not the hold Forrest had on her, that part of her past continued to gnaw at her heart. She used to force herself to believe their time was never that significant, maybe even a figment of her imagination. But like tonight, the ache of longing to be with him echoed through the very marrow of her bones.

  “Come on, Miss Sunshine.” Keely nudged her elbow on Claire’s side and smiled. “You look like you’re a stranger to everyone here.”

  She smiled at her friend. “In a way I am.”

  “Not any more than me. I didn’t grow up here.”

  “Where’s Minka? I don’t see her anywhere.”

  “She’s not feeling well. Jason said something about a stomach virus.”

  “Is Forrest here?” Quickly she gave the room another once-over. No sign of the island’s favorite doctor. Was he avoiding her or everyone in general?

  “I haven’t seen him.” Hazel eyes studied Claire. “Happy or sad over that?”

  She exhaled. “I don’t know. Last encounter wasn’t the greatest.”

  “I can’t imagine Forrest being blah in bed.” Keely wrinkled her nose. “Not that my mind goes there, but if it were…”

  “You’re starting to sound like Lily.” A little chuckle escaped Claire’s mouth. “I mean the morning after.”

  “I have a feeling he caught you trying to run away again,” Keely said with no judgment at all. “Maybe you should stop doing that.”

  “I’m not running. I’m here.”

  Keely looked her friend over. “You have uncertainty written all over your face.” She slid an arm in the crook of Claire’s. “Come on, let’s go have some fun.”

  Sometime in the night, the happiness around the room became infectious. It started as a tingle in her fingers and toes, much like the feeling she had when she was anxious, but instead of worrisome, it was warm. Most of the food had been eaten and everyone was lively. Loud, thumping music played in the background making it impossible for Claire to hear her voice or anyone else’s for that matter. It didn’t matter. Tyler caught her hand and dragged her onto the dance floor.

  For a split second, she hesitated, the picture of Forrest holding her hand while mourning his father still fresh in the headline. Ava, head of her public relations team, had called to see if damage control was needed. None necessary had been her response. The act had been intrusive, but to address it would fuel the fire and bring unwanted attention to Forrest. She could count on one hand the many times he’d been photographed with Jason or Adam. None with her—at least never alone.

  “You’re with friends, Claire,” Tyler said, smiling. “Come on, let’s dance. Maybe I’ll get Forrest jealous for old time’s sake.” He grinned and pulled her into him.

  “He’s not here,” she pointed out to her friend.

  Ty
ler chuckled. “Ten bucks he’ll show up. He can’t stay away, not from you.”

  If only that were true. Ignoring the way her heart fluttered over the possibility, she looked around the room. A contemporary tune enticed guests to the dance floor. Dancing bodies tangled together. Among them, was her mother, laughing with a tall, slender man with ebony skin. With everyone being carefree, she decided to drop her guard and thrust herself into the writhing mass of sweating bodies. Random fun was something she used to be good at and needed at times.

  In a matter of minutes, she was swaying to Renegades by X Ambassadors. The alternative-soulful beat spun her around, lifting away gravity. It felt good. She became one with the beat, releasing the day’s stress. A pair of strong hands grabbed her waist from behind, and she jumped at the sensation. Gooseflesh bloomed, making her skin tingle with desire. Only one person affected her that way.

  She frowned at Tyler. He shrugged, nodded at the person behind her. “Looks like I got to him again.” He smiled and gave her the I-told-you-so look. “You owe me ten dollars.” And then he was gone.

  Claire spun around to face Forrest, his hair tousled from the cold wind, annoyance on his face.

  “I need to talk to you.” His voice was like the magma chamber of a volcano, deep but filled with molten rock. Claire’s bones vibrated.

  “What about?”

  “You and me. Come on.” Large masculine hands pressed to the center of her back as he guided her through the room.

  “Leaving the party?” Jason said by the door, a chilled bottle of beer dangling between his fingers. His blue eyes panned Forrest’s face. “You don’t take calls anymore.”

  “You sound like a wounded girlfriend,” Forrest bit back.

  Jason shrugged, as if he could care less. But Claire knew better. The two men had a long-standing friendship. “And you’re acting like something crawled up your ass and died.” He took a chug of his beer. “What the fuck is your problem?”

  Silence hung in the air, suspended like the moment before a falling glass shatters on the ground.