God, he was massive. As solid as the breakwaters that kept the gulf at bay. She swallowed hard as it struck her again that this was not the boy who had kissed her years ago. That boy had grown into a man and his effect on her was, unbelievably, twice as debilitating. His eyes seemed to drink her in much as hers were drinking him—like a tall glass of water. They turned sly when he realized she was doing just that, and he drawled in a low, rusty voice, “Howdy, neighbor.”
She wanted to punch him. For interrupting what was usually a therapeutic candle-making session. For making her come over here to face him. For making her feel this way. For making her remember what had been. And in equal measure, she wanted to kiss him. She wanted to kiss and punch the hell out of him until he felt as drunk and off-balance as she did around him....
“Hang on, I thought you liked the Chili Peppers,” he said, his eyes narrowing on her slightly. They turned wry and thoughtful. “In fact, I do believe it was ‘Under the Bridge’ that was playing when we first—”
“Turn the goddamned music down,” she warned, advancing on him in jerky strides. She poked a finger into his chest for good measure. “Or I’ll make you wish you had!”
He laughed at her, the mirth stretching across the high-arched bones of his face. “God, I love it when you’re angry.”
She huffed, exasperated, and spun on her heel, rushing for the exit. She needed a cold shower and a stiff drink....
“Wait,” he called after her. His hand wrapped around her arm in a gentle hold that still managed to pull her up short. “Let me show you something.”
“Oh, heck no,” she said, tugging against his grip. He’d said the same thing years ago when she’d let him get behind the wheel of her car. He’d driven to the beach and parked it right on the sand. They’d made out there, too, rolling around in the backseat of her Camry until the gulf tide banked and the windows fogged over.
“Come on,” he said with a laugh. “I want to know what you think about the house.”
She frowned at their surroundings. Beams crisscrossed overhead. “What are doing out here?” she asked, more in accusation than curiosity.
“Shade,” he told her, lifting his palm. “Sun’s damned hot this time of day. Imagine what it’ll feel like in the summer. I figured I’d cover the deck and grill down there on the patio by the pool.”
Shielding her eyes with a flat hand against her brow, she glanced at the milky green water. “That’s not a pool. That’s a bacterial cesspit. You’re just foolish enough to go swimming in it, too. Mind you don’t pick up an infection while you’re at it and get gangrene or something similar.” She stopped, reconsidered and turned to his smiling face again. “Or do. That way they can tear the place down and I won’t have to worry about you anymore.”
“You don’t mean that, baby,” he said, the laughter in his eyes kicking up a notch. “I’m having it drained and retiled. Pretty sure we’ll find a dead armadillo at the bottom.”
Wrinkling her nose, she shook her head and faced the back of the house once more. “What do you see in this place?”
“I don’t know exactly,” James said, studying the house. “It’s got something to it, though, right?”
“Yeah—water damage and termites.”
He chuckled again. “Birds in the attic and chimney, too.”
She weighed his good-natured expression. “You’re an idiot.”
“So you keep saying. I’d wager you’ll say so again before this is all over.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she muttered. “I better get back...” She stopped, glancing down at the hand he still had clasped over her elbow. It was his right hand, the one unmarked by tattoos. The skin was rough on the back side, a bit mottled and pink. “What’d you do there?”
He glanced at the hand. The smile faded from his eyes, though he kept it firmly on his lips. Lifting a shoulder, he released her and let the arm hang at his side—but not before she saw that the burn crept all the way up his arm to the elbow. “That old oven in there’s a bitch. Serves me right for trying to make pizza from scratch.”
The oven hadn’t burned him. He was clearly unwillingly to tell her the truth and covering it up with the good-natured ease that teased up memories and feelings her former, younger and far more foolish and uninhibited self had suffered. She let the subject rest. “Will you turn down the music?”
He licked his lips. “Depends. Are you ready to let me see my son again?”
“James, I’m not doing this with you.”
He closed the space between them in one measured step. “Adrian,” he said, voice lower and expression more sober. “You will let me see him. At some point...you have to let me see him.”
She closed her eyes against the desperation she saw in the wild blue of his eyes. “Not now. I can’t...not now.” And she turned and retreated.
“Eventually,” he warned as she made her way toward the exit.
At the front door she turned back. He was leaning through the sliding glass door of the deck, one hand braced on either jamb. She saw the plea hanging there, at odds with the tense lines of his face. She sighed and shook her head. “Not today.”
“Come on,” he said, straightening. The first waver of impatience crossed his expression. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Her heart rate kicked up a notch. What was the worst thing that could happen? He could ruin her. All over again. But it wasn’t just her anymore. He could hurt Kyle while he was at it—whether intentionally or not. And that was unacceptable.
“I can’t afford to gamble anymore,” she said, knowing the quiet, weary words wouldn’t carry over the din of music.
“What?” he called.
She opened the door, took one look at the front yard and yelled back, “I said cut your grass. It’s tall enough for Hobbits to hide in.” Slamming the door behind her, she left the house and trudged back next door to her solitude.
CHAPTER SIX
EVERY WEEK, ONCE a week, Adrian took Kyle to her parents’ farmhouse for dinner. Every other weekend, they spent a Saturday there with Van and Edith so that they could ride horses and Van could teach his grandson a few new guitar chords.
They were due for their weekly visit; however, it just so happened that she had promised Cole and Briar to meet them for drinks that night.
And the timing wasn’t coincidental, not on Adrian’s part. Van had seen James. He had no doubt told Adrian’s mother that her old flame was back. And Adrian knew for a certainty that Edith had been gearing up for a lecture about the trouble James had gotten them all into the last time.
Avoidance wasn’t always the answer. But in the case of both her mother and James, Adrian wasn’t afraid to exercise it. So it was that she found herself dropping Kyle off at The Farm with only a brief exchange with her father before driving back to the bay.
Taking a night for herself was a luxury she rarely indulged in. She liked her quiet nights at home with Kyle—it was a ritual she knew never to take for granted. But in light of recent events, Adrian found herself in need of a beer. And since she didn’t keep it in the house, there was only one place to go...
By the time she pulled into the parking lot of Tavern of the Graces, it was well past happy hour. Though she’d had her fair share of loud music earlier that day, Adrian eagerly walked toward the sounds of Olivia’s jukebox and the chorus of loud voices, drinking in the fresh, tepid scent of the bay.
Inside, the familiar atmosphere of the small-town bar lulled the knots in her shoulders as a measure of her stress fell by the wayside. She raised her hand to one of Olivia’s regulars who greeted her by name and walked to the shiny wood counter lined with stools.
Olivia worked the bar, Briar close at her side. Adrian took a seat and lifted her chin, catching Olivia’s eye. Her friend finished serving a tall, foaming glass of draf
t Guinness before veering toward her.
She was still a little frayed around the edges, Adrian saw. At least Olivia looked steadier on her feet—a lucky thing as she was wearing three-inch platforms. “Feeling better?” Adrian asked.
“Peachy keen,” Olivia said with a tight, unconvincing grin.
“How’re the nerves holding up?” Adrian questioned.
Olivia inhaled sharply through her nose, looking around to make sure Gerald wasn’t within earshot. Finding her husband over by the pool tables talking up some customers, Olivia frowned at Adrian. “They’ve been better, but the bar’s open, it’s Karaoke and $1.25 Mojitos Night and I haven’t got time to think about it.”
“Karaoke?” Adrian asked curiously.
“Gerald finally talked me into getting a machine,” Olivia said, taking a hurricane glass from Briar and pushing it in front of Adrian. “Mojito?”
Adrian stared at the glass. It wasn’t a beer, but it was alcohol. “Why not?”
“Drink up,” Olivia demanded. “There’s more where that came from.”
“Are you trying to liquor me up?” Adrian asked after taking a sip.
“That’s my job.”
Briar stepped up next to Olivia. “Guess who went to the doctor today,” she said, in as much of an undertone as she could manage amidst the din of music and conversation.
“Oh?” Adrian said, looking back to Olivia in question. “So, what’s the ruling?”
Olivia dropped her eyes to the bar and looked helpless for the first time in Adrian’s memory. Keeping her voice tuned low, she muttered, “There’s a bun, all right.”
Briar beamed and patted the slumped line of her cousin’s shoulders. “It’s wonderful news! Right, Adrian?”
“I think it is,” Adrian said in all honesty and smiled when Olivia’s empty gaze rose to hers. “Don’t you think so, Liv?”
After a moment, Olivia nodded. “I’m getting used to the idea and it’s...it’s not as scary as I thought. It’s just...”
“Unexpected?” Adrian prompted.
“Completely,” Olivia agreed. She glanced at Gerald. “Can you both just...keep it on the hush-hush for a bit longer?”
“When are you going to tell him?” Briar asked. “He’s got a book tour coming up. You’ll tell him before he goes, right?”
“I think so.” Olivia gnawed her lower lip. “It’s just...I don’t know what he’ll say or do. We talked about having kids, of course, but always in future tense, down the road. Way down the road. We’ve only been married a few months...”
“He’ll be delighted,” Briar assured her. “You’re going to be wonderful parents.”
“I second that,” Adrian said.
Olivia gave a small smile. “Thanks.” She looked over Adrian’s shoulder and her smile widened. “Hey, Rox.”
Adrian glanced over just in time to see Roxie Levy snag the stool next to hers. She lifted a finger and they saw the phone at her ear. After a moment’s wait, Roxie lowered the phone with a creased brow. “Drat. I can’t get ahold of Richard.”
“Is everything all right?” Briar asked.
“Fine, I’m sure,” Roxie said in regard to her husband of four months. “With his late hours at the university, it’s been difficult getting in touch with him lately.” She slipped the phone into the side pocket of her Brahmin bag and folded her hands on the counter. “So...Liv...” She grinned her dazzling, cheerful grin and leaned forward. “What’s the news?”
Olivia couldn’t quite hide a smile now. “Gerald’s going to be a daddy.”
Roxie shrieked happily and clapped her hands before reaching over the bar to pull Olivia into a spontaneous embrace.
“Shh!” Adrian said with a laugh. “Daddy doesn’t know yet.”
“Oh, sorry,” Roxie said, lowering quickly back to her seat. Her hands still grasped Olivia’s. She lowered her voice in a whispered, “I’m so happy for you!” then untangled them.
“Thanks,” Olivia replied. She picked up one of the drinks on standby. “Mojito?”
“Absolutely!” Roxie said, taking the drink in both hands.
“To Liv, Gerald and their little munchkin,” Adrian said, lifting her own glass.
“Cheers to that.” Roxie tipped her mojito with a clink to Adrian’s and they both drank deep.
Swallowing, Adrian saw that her glass was empty and pursed her lips. Before she knew it, though, Olivia had set down another mojito full to the brim. “You’re welcome,” her friend said before busying herself with other orders.
Adrian lifted a shoulder again and drank. After a moment, she looked around and asked Briar, “Where’s Cole? This was his idea.”
Briar leaned a bit over the bar and said, “Talking with Dad. It sounded tense. Harmony was down for the night so I came right over and left them to it.”
Adrian nodded understanding. It was well known that Cole and Briar’s father didn’t always see eye to eye. Turning to Roxie, she said, “I need to talk to you about that Oak Hollow wedding coming up.”
Roxie lifted a finger. “Nope. Not now. We’re off duty, remember?”
“Yeah, but the bride has asked for—”
“A bouquet chandelier for the reception,” Roxie finished with a sage nod. “I didn’t know how to talk her out of it. I’m sorry.”
Adrian propped her chin in the flat of her hand. As a wedding planner and a florist, she and Roxie often found themselves collaborating and recommending each other’s services to their customers. “It’s not the arrangement I’m worried about. More, how in God’s name will we hang something with that much weight? Peonies aren’t light, especially when they’re all clumped together like that. And I’ll have to use something sturdier than my usual wire...”
“Holy Mother of God,” Olivia murmured from the other side of the bar.
Adrian started at the shell-shocked look on her face. “What’s wrong?” she asked, looking around wildly, expecting to see a fire or a murder in progress...
The problem was just over her left shoulder, approaching steadily. James grinned when she spotted him. “Adrian,” he greeted her.
“Shit,” Adrian said, not bothering to stifle the curse. Turning back to her mojito, she drank deep.
“James Bracken,” Olivia said, expression still frozen in shock.
James stared at her for a moment. His eyes widened in recognition. “Olivia?”
“Yes,” she said, beaming. “Wow.” Her emerald-hued gaze took an admiring dive over his broad torso. “You look...different.”
Adrian glared at her friend while Roxie extended a hand to James. “Roxie Honeycutt Levy,” she said as he grasped it. “Very nice to meet you, Mr. Bracken.”
James chuckled. “The pleasure’s all mine, I assure you, Ms. Levy.” When Adrian groaned, he glanced back at her. “Problem?”
“Um, yeah,” Adrian muttered, desperately wishing for another full glass. “You.”
“James,” Briar said as she walked up. “It’s been too long.”
“Briar,” James said, a bittersweet note entering his voice. “Briar Browning.”
“Well, Savitt now,” she said, lifting the hand adorned with her wedding ring.
“Congratulations,” he said with a nod and an answering smile.
“It’s good to see you,” Briar said sincerely.
“You, too,” he replied.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Olivia interjected. “We’ve got a mojito special.”
“I saw the sign,” James said with a nod. “But just water for me, thanks.”
“You sure?” Olivia asked. “We’ve got plenty of draft beer to go around. What’s your pleasure?”
He raised a hand. “Nah. I’ve, ah, actually been sober for four years now.”
Adrian peered a
t him as Roxie let out an admiring “Aw, how ’bout that?”
Briar offered her own congratulations. “You never mentioned that,” Adrian pointed out when his gaze found hers.
James cleared his throat and crossed his arms. “You never asked. And you always run away before I can get around to mentioning it...”
“Huh.” She saw the others looking at her expectantly and frowned. “Well...good for you,” she added in a small voice.
“Thanks.”
“Glass of water,” Olivia offered, setting it in front of him on the bar between Roxie and Adrian. “And another mojito for Adrian.”
“No, I don’t need—”
“Drink it,” Olivia said, lowering her head and eyeing Adrian sternly. She brightened as she looked at James again. “So, James. Tell us what you’ve been up to.”
Adrian had no choice but to sit and drink her mojito, listening to James explain how he’d gone from Fairhope to the mountains, of all places, then to Florida and finally up to the Carolinas where he found work designing engines for stock cars. She was grateful when someone from the other side of the bar recognized him and he was momentarily distracted by a reunion with the Harbuck brothers as well as a few other members of their high school class. After he excused himself from the girls, Adrian dropped her face into her hands.
Olivia was the first to comment. “Oh, my ovaries,” she breathed, clasping her hands over her womb.
Adrian scowled. “Your ovaries have been busy enough as it is lately. Give them a rest.”
Briar let out a little breath. “He’s so different.”
“It’s the shoulders,” Olivia explained. “They make a girl wanna curl up there against him and purr.”
“Purr?” Adrian asked derisively.
“Yes, he’s filled out quite nicely,” Briar said in agreement with Olivia.
“Like a single-cab pickup fills into a frickin’ Humvee,” Olivia said.
His Rebel Heart Page 8
