by Jodi Redford
They stared at each other for a long time before Bailey averted her gaze and walked away. Kayla turned and met Gibb’s and Ty’s concerned frowns. She pasted on a smile for their benefit, but inside sorrow crushed her.
It was a bittersweet realization that she’d found love and lost her best friend all in the same day.
Chapter Eighteen
It’d been nearly five days since her relationship with Ty and Gibb had been outed at the Rusty Anchor, and Kayla was still trapped in a conflicting sea of sublime happiness and misery. On the one hand, Ty and Gibb kept her nights and the occasional days they didn’t have to work filled with love, laughter, companionship and the hottest sex to ever set her bedsheets on fire. But Bailey’s continued defection sat like an anvil around Kayla’s neck.
Rolling onto her side between Ty and Gibb, she idly stroked restless fingertips over Gibb’s sculpted pecs and shot a look toward the nightstand, where her cell phone mocked her.
“Sweetheart, why don’t you give her a call? You know you want to.”
She shook her head. Catching Gibb’s eye, she nibbled the corner of her lip. “You can stop giving me that look. This has nothing to do with being stubborn. If Bailey can’t accept the choices I’m making, then I don’t know if our friendship can even be mended.”
“She was in shock that day. As was everyone,” Gibb pointed out gently.
Kayla swirled her fingertip over the flat nub of Gibb’s nipple. “She was mean to Ty. And I don’t like that.”
Ty nuzzled her neck. “That’s sweet, baby. But mark it down as my sister’s usual blunt way.” He chuckled. “I have no idea where she gets that from. Regardless, she and I have gone through these spats before and made up. It’s standard protocol for us. I don’t want you and her breaking a tight friendship over me.”
“It isn’t only you. She doesn’t approve of me being with you both.” The reminder of the censure in Bailey’s eyes still a fresh wound, Kayla blinked back tears.
“She’ll get over it,” Ty insisted as he traced the curve of her spine.
Doubts of that happening plaguing her mind, she settled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. Gibb cupped her breast, his thumb stroking her nipple while Ty’s hand drifted between her legs. She offered them both a wry look. “You’re trying to distract me from being all moody.”
Gibb raised an eyebrow. “Working?”
“Yes, darn it.”
“Good.” Scooting lower on the bed, Ty spread her thighs open, making room for his big shoulders. She squirmed as his tongue slicked over her clit. Grinning wickedly, he pinned her in place, making it impossible for her to do anything beyond yield to his demanding mouth.
Gibb ducked his head and captured her nipple against his tongue. Within seconds they’d worked her into a panting frenzy of need. Ty lifted to his knees and stretched toward the top drawer where the condoms were stashed. She and Gibb took advantage of Ty’s convenient position by sliding their mouths along his cock. As usual, he wasn’t shy when it came to voicing his appreciation of their efforts.
“Oh, fuck yeah. Suck me just like that. And don’t leave my ball sac out of the fun, either.”
Dutifully complying with the request, Gibb licked the smooth, velvety skin covering Ty’s testicles before tenderly drawing one into his mouth. Flickering her tongue teasingly along the slit in his cock head, she peered up at Ty through her eyelashes. Her breath snared in her throat at the you-are-so-getting-your-brains-fucked-out look he pinned her with.
Extricating himself from their grip, Ty sheathed his cock with one of the condoms and dropped down next to her. Pulling her against him so he spooned her, he anchored her top leg in the crook of his arm and eased inside her with one seamless thrust. Her gasp was captured by Gibb’s mouth while he stuffed the remaining portion of her pussy not already occupied by Ty. Considering that was basically nonexistent real estate, she was stretched to overload on their cocks.
Shuddering in ecstasy, she allowed them to take her over the peak, trusting that they’d be there to catch her when she fell. The orgasm splintered through every cell in her body, sending out endless aftershocks of pure undiluted nirvana. “Oh Goooooddddd.”
Gibb’s and Ty’s strangled shouts of completion melded with her cry, creating a perfectly woven three-part harmony comprised of sheer bliss. They slumped together in a tangle of limp, sweaty limbs. She murmured in contentment while they petted her, supreme satiation making her eyes grow heavy.
“Baby, Gibb and I have been talking, and we want to ask you something.”
“Hm?”
Gibb inched a tendril of hair away from her eye. “What do you think about moving down here and living with us?”
Her heart exploding with happiness and love, she stroked Gibb’s dear face before shifting and doing the same to Ty’s. “A million times yes.”
“Even though it’s hotter than fuck during the summer and our state bird is the mosquito?” Ty inquired worriedly.
“As long as your apartment has air conditioning, I’m good. And I can always stock up on citronella candles.”
“Actually, Ty and I were thinking we’d pull together our savings and maybe find a little house for the three of us. That way there’d be more space, and you wouldn’t have to put up with the stench of fish guts and boat fuel.”
Ty grimaced. “Truthfully, I’m kinda looking forward to not smelling that all the time too.”
Her eyes misted. “A little house sounds wonderful. But I’m not going to agree to it unless I can contribute my part. I’m not raking in the cash quite yet, but I make a good living with my books. Definitely enough to allow me to go in with you guys on the down payment.”
Gibb cleared his throat. “Speaking of your books, we wanted to talk to you about that too.”
She frowned. “Okay.”
“Sweetheart, it’s understandable if you feel more comfortable sticking with your pen name when it comes to strangers, but we don’t get why you’re keeping your books a secret from your friends.” Gibb scooched lower so he could look her directly in the eye. “I was in Reese’s shop the other day and noticed your books. My sister would be in seventh heaven if she knew you were the one who wrote them. You know how she loves tootin’ the horn of local authors. You should take advantage of it.”
“I’m fine with things the way they are.”
“Are you really? Or is this what you think you have to do because of your mom?”
She dropped her gaze, but Gibb tilted her chin up with one knuckle. “Kay, don’t let her make you feel ashamed for what you write. Your books serve a purpose.”
She couldn’t quite snuff her chuckle. “What? Getting people off and giving Ty fantastically dirty ideas?”
Ty smacked her butt and nibbled her shoulder. “Like I need any help in that department. Besides, don’t short-change yourself. I overheard some woman talking to Reese about how your book improved her sex life. Apparently the woman’s husband did need some help in the fantastically dirty-idea department.”
“I’ve gotten fan mail stating similar stories as hers.”
“There you go.”
She twitched her nose. “I still doubt me helping couples in bed qualifies as a lasting legacy like my father’s books.”
Gibb’s gaze sharpened on her. “Is that what this is about?”
Leave it to him to latch on to the nitty-gritty of the matter. “In a way. My dad was one of the most amazing, distinguished authors of his generation. Three of his books have won Pulitzers.”
Gibb tilted his head in consideration. “Was that important to him? To you?”
“Of course not. He didn’t care about awards. The stories were all that mattered to him. And he was all that mattered to me.” Her throat grew tight, making it difficult to get out that last word.
“He loved you, sweetheart. I remember the adoring look he’d always give you while you were sitting on the beach reading together.”
She sniffled a laugh. “He’d sneak me Sweet
Valley High books when my mom wasn’t looking.”
“See? He didn’t care what you read, so long as you did it. Together. You said it yourself. It was never about the awards or prestige for your dad. It was the story. And each and every one your books are an extension of that love of reading and writing he fostered in you all those years ago.” He cupped her cheek. “You’re his legacy, Kay. And I damn well guarantee he’s typing away somewhere in the afterlife, proud as hell to have you for his daughter.”
Gibb’s solemn declaration was the balm that both healed her soul and flooded the dam containing her tears. For the first time since her dad’s passing, she finally allowed herself to let go of the horrible certainty that she was a failure and a disappointment. Gibb was right, her dad had loved her unconditionally. There’d been no demands attached to be anything but what she was—his daughter.
Wiping her eyes dry, she hugged Gibb and Ty to her and took a deep breath. “Tomorrow I’m going to talk to Reese about setting up my first book signing.”
Gibb kissed her forehead tenderly. “Good girl.”
He was right again. She did feel amazingly, wonderfully good.
The only thing missing to push good into the territory of wonderful was Bailey. Heaviness threatening to pull her under its wake again, she turned her back on the nightstand and her depressingly silent cell phone.
Chapter Nineteen
Kayla pulled to a stop in front of Wicked Books and killed the engine. Despite her earlier assertion to Ty and Gibb that she didn’t need any handholding, her palms were clammy as she tossed her keys into her purse. Yes, it was ridiculous to be nervous about outing herself to one of her oldest friends, but she’d been living in the anonymous pen-name closet so long, she felt like she was getting ready to strip on a public street.
Okay, that would be infinitely more awkward and citation worthy. In comparison, this was going to be a damn piece of cake.
Hopefully.
She climbed from her car and shut the door with her hip before making her way into the store. While the chimes rang overhead, she lingered in the entrance, a sigh of happiness floating free. She breathed in the beloved eau de new book toilette perfuming the air. This is what Shangri-La smells like.
“Kay! I’m so glad you popped in.” Reese abandoned her station at the register and rushed to give Kayla a hug.
As always, she felt like a munchkin next to Reese’s statuesque five-ten willowy frame. “You’re not busy, are you?”
“No, it’s been super quiet all day. I could use the company.”
“Great. I was wondering if I could talk to you about something.”
Reese re-anchored the hair clip keeping her wild mess of white-blonde curls tamed in a semblance of submission atop her head. “Did my brother do something boneheaded? I can smack some sense into him if you need me to.”
“No, he’s been nothing but wonderful.”
“Ty did something boneheaded then. Sense is pretty much a lost cause there, but I’ll still smack him for ya.”
She joined in Reese’s grin. “Sorry to deprive you that joy, but I was actually hoping to discuss the possibility of scheduling a book signing with you.”
“Sure. Who’s the author?”
“Well, me.”
Reese blinked before offering a blinding smile. “No way. Why the heck didn’t you mention that while we were at the Rusty Anchor?”
“It’s kind of a long, complicated story. And before you get too excited, I should warn you that I’m not a huge name. I doubt I’ll bring you in a large attendance for the signing.”
“Are you kidding? The local authors always attract a lot of interest.” Gesturing with her hand, Reese led the way to a small office located in the rear corner of the store. “I can either order your books, or if you prefer bringing in your own stock, we can do that too.” She clicked a few buttons on her laptop and chewed her bottom lip. “Hm, you’re not coming up in my database.”
“That’s because I don’t write under my real name. Look under Ella Kay.”
Reese’s head whipped up, and her eyes widened. “You are freakin’ shitting me. You’re Ella Kay.”
“Erm, yes.”
“I doubt I’ll bring you in a large attendance for the signing,” Reese mimicked before shaking her head. “Do you have any idea how impossible it is for me to keep your books on the shelves? My customers gobble them up and then offer me their first born in hopes of getting advance copies of the next in your series.”
“Wow, I had no idea. Both Bailey and Gibb mentioned that you carry my books, but they didn’t say much beyond that.”
A comically outraged expression slipped in place on Reese’s face. “My brother knew you were Ella Kay? Forget the smacking, I’m taking a two-by-four to his thick skull.”
Thank God Kayla didn’t blow the lid on Ty knowing too. No telling what blunt object Reese would choose to clobber him with.
They spent the next fifteen minutes going over the preliminary details of the signing. At Reese’s suggestion, they settled on late October, when Kayla wouldn’t be bogged down in edits with her current book.
“Plus the weather won’t be so horrendously hot that it’s keeping people parked in front of their fans instead of in here,” Reese pointed out sagely.
As they’d been doing constantly for the last week, Kayla’s thoughts veered toward Bailey. For all she knew, the book signing would be around the same time as the wedding. Of course, she probably didn’t have to worry about juggling this and any maid-of-honor duties. Most likely she’d lost that title.
A weight of bricks sitting on her sternum, she lifted from her seat in front of Reese’s desk. “Well, I should let you get back to work.”
They walked together to the entrance. Before Kayla could duck out the door, Reese stopped her with a gentle hand. “Gibb told me that you and Bailey still aren’t talking. Don’t let stubborn pride get in the way of twenty-plus years of friendship.”
Kay swallowed down her lump of anguish. “I’m not the one who walked away from us.”
Reese sighed. “I’m in no way defending her actions, but you know how much Bailey balks at the tiniest change in her disgustingly ordered life. Your relationship with my brother and Ty—not to mention their involvement with each other—has got to be flipping Bailey’s world on its axis. Sooner or later, things will settle back in place for her. For you both.”
More than anything, she wanted to believe that Reese was right, but the phantom sting of Bailey’s words remained.
Kayla had to accept the facts. She might never get her best friend back. A hollow ache in her tummy, she hugged Reese goodbye and returned to the humid confines of her car. The best way to kick her dismalness to the curb was to celebrate the good news of her upcoming book signing—and she knew precisely the two men she most wanted to share it with. Deciding to sweeten the festivities with a round of treats from Scoops ice cream shop, she backed out of her spot and nosed the Camry in the direction of Main Street.
Compared to the madness of Venetian Week, traffic was almost nonexistent through town. She scored a prime parking spot right in front of Scoops. Killing the engine, she dropped her keys into her purse and made her way toward the entrance of the ice cream parlor, stopping to hold the door for two teenaged girls giggling as they hurried to consume their rapidly melting cones. Melancholy pinching her heart, Kayla sent the girls a wistful smile. The scene was a carbon copy of thousands she’d shared with Bailey throughout the years.
Almost every wonderful memory in her mental scrapbook included her best friend. The very real possibility that there’d be no future ones of them to add to the collection twisted the knife in Kayla’s chest. Blinking back tears, she stepped inside the air-conditioned building. Her skin immediately responded to the brisk change in temperature by breaking out in goose bumps. Chafing her arms, she shuffled in the direction of the counter—only to drag to a jarring stop the second she spotted the elegantly dressed, rail-thin woman inspecting a calorie-la
den ice cream cake nestled in one of Scoops signature pink boxes.
“I specifically requested white roses, Cynthia. The blue looks cheap.” Her sigh bordering on suffering, Belinda English glanced at her watch. “I guess I don’t have any choice other than to accept it as is, but please relay my dissatisfaction to your employer. This is twice now my order has been incorrect. I’ll take my business elsewhere if it happens again.”
The girl behind the counter nervously taped up the dessert box. “Yes, Mrs. English. I’m so sorry for the mistake.”
Accepting the apology with a regal nod, Belinda snatched her cake and pivoted.
Kayla broke from her frozen state as she and her mom locked stares. An awkward silence descended, made all the more noticeable by the pronounced whirring of the overhead ceiling fan. A sharp sting near her elbow alerted Kayla to the realization that she was digging her nails into her arm. Expelling a slow breath, she forced herself to relax and even managed to offer her mom a cool greeting. “Hello, Belinda.”
Disapproval furrowed her mom’s brow. “Kayla, I’ve asked you time after time to please not address me that way.”
“Oh, would you prefer Mrs. English instead?” Holy crap. Where was this feistiness coming from? More than a little stunned, Kayla tamped down a grin.
Belinda appeared less than amused. “You know that isn’t what I was referring to. I’m your mother. You’ll speak to me as such.”
“Funny, I didn’t think we were speaking at all.”
Belinda shot a discreet look over her shoulder. She had no reason to worry about their dirty laundry being aired. Cynthia had ducked into the back room the moment a quick getaway presented itself. Returning her displeasure to Kayla, Belinda sniffed peevishly. “You know the reason for that, Kayla. And now I hear ugly rumors involving you, that Bishop boy and some other man.”
