by Kay Lyons
Chapter 7
Denz watched the shocked expression flash over Claire’s face and cringed. But learning she was single had upped his interest in the beautiful woman beside him, and he didn’t like that something like a job—one he was good at—might keep him from getting to know her a little better.
“Hypothetically, you mean?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “Sure. The subject came up earlier with Mrs. B and now…I’m curious.”
“Why did it come up?”
“She offered to set me up while I’m here.”
“To match you?”
“Yeah.”
“I see,” she murmured. “Well, my answer would be no.”
He fell into step beside her as they made their way down the sidewalk away from the pier, toward the streets and houses beyond, and moved to her right side so that he was on the outside, closest to the road and any approaching danger. “Because of my job.”
“That’s one of the reasons.”
Having known him a matter of hours, how many had she come up with? “Have you dated since your husband died?”
Claire flashed him another look with her wary eyes and shook her head.
“It’s only been a year,” she said, sounding somewhat defensive, “and Tommy… He’s having trouble adjusting. Dating is the last thing I need to be doing right now.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, it’s just maybe what he needs is to see his mother living her life again.”
“I live.”
“He may also need a man’s presence since that’s what he’s missing—his father.”
The light changed and they had to pause at a crosswalk. He noted Claire’s silence and the quiet concentration on her face as she pondered his words.
“I’d hoped some time with my dad might help Tommy sort some things out. That he’d open up and talk.”
Denz knew he was getting too personal, but he couldn’t seem to stop the curiosity riding him where she was concerned. “What about you?”
“What do you mean?”
What did he mean? “I’m just wondering if coming here isn’t a first step toward whatever’s next for you. If you’re hoping to find something here?”
Claire glanced up at him and then quickly away.
“I’m not sure yet.” She was silent a long moment. Then, “Are you close to your father?”
The question was simple in its essence but held the weight of time and distance and far too little communication. “No. I mean, there aren’t any issues between us, but I wouldn’t say we’re close.”
The light changed and the walk signal flashed. They stepped off into the street in unison and continued away from the pier.
“Why not?” she asked.
Denz knew ducking the question wasn’t possible. “It’s nothing big or dramatic. My dad was career military and away a lot. By the time he retired, I’d enlisted and our paths crossed at the door.”
“That’s…sad.”
“Why? I had a great childhood. I grew up on bases with lots of other kids like me. We all knew the score.”
“Yeah, but you just said you don’t know your father,” she murmured.
“Did Tommy know his father well?”
Her mouth pinched at the question and Denz got the feeling he’d struck a nerve.
“Where are they now? Your parents?” she asked.
“My dad lives on the outskirts of Savannah, and my mom passed away when I was still in the military.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks. She was a great mom, always did her best even though with her health she never felt all that great.”
The noise around the pier lessened as they made their way down the quiet streets. Every so often, Claire’s wet feet squeaked against her flip-flops.
The quiet was one of the things he’d liked about Carolina Cove when he’d been assigned here to guard Oliver and Marsali last spring and fall.
The small beach town could be tourist crazy during the season, but he knew from the time he’d spent here that, once the season was over, it was peaceful. Much like the side streets they now walked.
“Have you seen your dad since the shooting? Did he come to the hospital?”
“Nah. It wasn’t life-threatening.”
“I’d think getting shot at all would constitute a threat,” she countered.
“He gets contacted if I’m ever critical.” He’d taken two steps before he realized she’d stopped walking. “Something wrong?”
She raised her eyebrows and stared up at him, looking adorable with her face scrunched up to combat the setting sun.
“He’s notified if you’re critical? Are you saying he doesn’t even know you got shot?”
Denz inhaled, befuddled by her upset. “I haven’t told him.”
“And you don’t think he has a right to know? He’s your father.”
“Do you tell your father everything?” The question hit home given her expression, and the niggle of suspicion regarding her motives for being there turned into a full-fledged punch. “Ah. I thought so. You’re not just here for a vacation, are you?”
She put her feet into motion and nudged by him on the narrow sidewalk.
“Of course I am.”
“Doesn’t ring true, sweetheart.”
She stopped again, and because he’d been following her marching steps so closely, he nearly ran into her. Claire tilted her head back, way back, and stared up at him.
“I’m not your sweetheart.”
“Just making conversation as we walk.”
“Making conversation? I don’t know you and you’re asking a lot of personal questions.”
“So are you.”
“For all I know, that story about you being a bodyguard is a lie, and when my dad checked you out, he talked to a friend of yours who covered for you. People do that kind of stuff all the time.”
Denz chuckled, his laughter echoing off of the homes nearby.
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny. Especially considering who I had dinner with tonight.”
“Who you claim to have had dinner with.”
“Claire,” he said, gently snagging her arm with his one good hand, “I’m legit. I’m not sure who your father talked to, but I can provide credentials if you’d like to see them. Or I could prove it to you another way.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I need a date for a wedding.”
Claire blinked.
“A wedding—with Oliver Beck and Marsali in attendance?”
Yeah, he really didn’t like the fact the draw for her was Oliver. “They’ll be there,” he said. “But since you know Marsali, and she can vouch for me, maybe you’ll finally believe I am who I say I am. Plus Mrs. B can help you with your dating issue.”
“I don’t have a dating issue.”
“Good. That means you’ll go with me. Because a wedding date isn’t really a date but an event, and you’re only going to make sure I am who I say I am.”
He could practically see the wheels spinning in her brain as she pondered his words.
Claire inhaled and moved forward without responding to his question as to whether or not she’d go with him. Denz followed, trying not to notice the sway of her hips or how cute she looked as she squeak-flopped along the sidewalk.
“Marsali set Scott and me up,” she said. “In high school.”
Okay. Not sure he wanted to hear that but…
“If I agree to go,” she said, the words trailing over her shoulder, “it definitely wouldn’t be as a date—because I don’t. But if I agreed, whose wedding is it? Where is it?”
He chuckled at her attempt to fish for details. “Uh-uh. You want info, you have to agree first.”
“Seriously?” She stopped again and turned to face him, inhaling as though drawing on the last of her patience. “Fine, I’ll go—only
so I can see them together in person and say hello to Marsali.”
“Of course.”
“Okay. I agree. So who’s getting married?”
Chapter 8
The following morning, Claire knocked on Tommy’s bedroom door before letting herself inside. Her son was still asleep, looking adorably rumpled and much too old given the way his long, lanky form sprawled both on and off the twin bed.
She shook her head at the clothes he hadn’t put away and set about quietly straightening the room. Her father had always been particular about the house, though she’d noticed things had lapsed a bit since her mother had passed.
She gathered Tommy’s slides and set them toward the end of the bed when she spotted a cord sticking out from under the coverlet.
Blood pressure rising, she gently tugged and, sure enough, the game system that was supposedly secure in her bedroom closet wasn’t. “Oh, no, you didn’t. Tommy? Tommy, wake up.”
She got to her feet and jostled his shoulder, getting a nasty four-letter response from him. “Excuse me? You did not just use that kind of language with me.”
“Mom?”
“Yes, Mom. Wake up. Now.”
“Why?” he asked with a groan while pulling the pillow over his head. “I thought we’re on vacation?”
“I can’t believe you. One day? You couldn’t behave for one day?”
“What are you—”
He rolled over in time to see her bend and pull the bag from beneath his bed, and his eyes widened. Claire shook her head back and forth. “You bought yourself another month.”
“No!”
“Yes. Three suspensions, bad grades, and now this? Tommy, what are you thinking?” she asked as she turned.
Tommy grabbed her so fast Claire didn’t know what happened. One minute she was walking away from the bed and the next she tumbled backward, gasping from the pain of his grip on her arms as he toppled her to the bed and scrambled over her.
“It’s mine!”
“Tommy!”
The wrestling match lasted mere seconds but seemed like hours, her son stronger as he tightened his grip until she was forced to let go. He rolled off the bed, kneeing her in the process, and took off out the door in only his boxers.
“What’s going on in there?” her father asked from the hallway.
Claire quickly wiped the pained tears from her eyes and got to her feet so that, by the time her father entered the room, she was bent over the bed, making it up.
“Claire?”
“Sorry, Dad, did we wake you?”
“You’d wake the dead with all the racket you two were making. What happened?”
She had to sniffle and swallow the lump in her throat. “Uh, Tommy. He got excited b-because I let him have his game system back earlier than expected.”
“Well, where’d he go with it?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll ask when he gets back.” Claire felt her father’s gaze boring a hole into her as she fussed over the bed, but he eventually seemed satisfied with her answers and left.
Seconds later, she heard him in the kitchen filling the coffeepot. Her weak knees folded as she sat on the edge of the taut covers and wrapped her arms around her waist to hug.
What on earth had just happened?
She and Tommy had gotten into arguments plenty of times, but he’d never laid his hands on—
“Coffee’s on.”
“O-okay, thanks!” she called, taking a breath and forcing herself to her feet.
She fixed the bed once more and hurried down the hall toward her bedroom, locking herself inside. She needed a long shower and some time to think before she faced her father again.
Not to mention her son.
Denz was sitting on the steps leading up to the apartment with his coffee and a real estate guide he’d picked up at the gas station that morning when he spotted Claire’s son tearing out of the house like it was on fire.
He started to stand and go see what was up, but the kid stopped near his mom’s Jeep and started crying. Sobs racked the kid’s shoulders, and he hid behind the vehicle, obviously not wanting to be seen.
Remembering his own reaction at that age to people seeing him lose his cool, Denz stayed silent and still and hoped the kid wouldn’t notice him.
After a few minutes, the kid pulled himself together and took off around the garage, still carrying whatever it was he’d run out of the house with.
Denz used the opportunity to quietly go inside, taking a few discreet glances out of the windows around the apartment. He finally spotted the kid placing the game system bag inside one of Tom’s outside storage boxes. The kid’s head jerked all around as though to see if he was being watched while he worked to cover it up and close the lid.
When the kid skulked away, Denz tracked him from within the apartment once more. Tommy stood outside the back of the house long seconds before heading inside as quickly as he’d emerged.
Interesting happenings this morning, he mused.
All of which reminded him of his talk with Claire about her relationship with her father. Something had picked at him ever since, and he inhaled and pulled out his cell, scrolling through his contacts until he found the right one.
He stared at the name, at the number, his thumb hovering over the digits. Another inhalation had him swiping the contact list away and shoving his phone back in his pocket.
It was early yet. Too early to call.
And definitely too early for whatever had just taken place to send Claire’s son tearing outside in his underwear and tears.
Back in the kitchenette area, he dumped the last of his coffee in the sink, gazing out the window toward the house once more.
It was Saturday morning in a beach town with summer kicking in. Time to go find some sand.
He changed into swim trunks and grabbed the towel he’d picked up at one of the tourist traps last week.
Tom had told him to borrow whatever he needed from the supplies below, so once he had sunscreen, earbuds, and a small cooler filled, he tossed a book into the backpack with the towel and other items and headed out to find a chair.
While wandering around the garage, he relocated the bag carrying the game system to his vehicle and locked up it up until he got the full story.
That done, he rounded the rental, found a chair, and went back to the steps to retrieve the backpack he’d left there. That’s when he saw Claire standing on the porch. “Morning.”
“Good morning.”
Okay. Yeah, something was definitely off. One glance told him Tommy wasn’t the only one in tears that morning. “You okay?” he asked, moving toward her.
“What? Oh, I’m fine.”
He wondered how long it would take her to realize simply standing outside looking like a kicked puppy was a little telling. “Lose something?” he asked instead.
Her gaze met his, eyes wide.
“I saw him stash it. It’s now locked in my car. Do you want me to get it for you?”
“No. No, if you don’t mind, just leave it.”
“Okay.”
“You’re off to the beach. Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day.”
It would’ve been if he wasn’t so focused on the fact her eyes were puffy, she sounded congested from her tears, and he could tell by the tone of her voice that she was more than a little upset. “Why don’t you come with me?”
“What?”
“Just for a little while.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t. I need to do some things and—”
“Come on. It’s Saturday and, if I’m not mistaken, the first day of your vacation?”
“It…is.”
“Well, first days of vacation should be spent doing something fun. Let’s go hit the sand, breathe in the salt air, and forget our troubles for an hour or two. What do you say?”
Chapter 9
Claire hadn’t intended to say yes, but somehow she’d found herself back in the house, changing into a swimsuit, and glaring at Tommy�
��s door as she’d walked by.
She hadn’t bothered knocking when she’d opened the door, but she’d noted he was back in bed, his head on the pillow as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
She supposed she ought to be thankful he’d returned so soon after running out of the house like that, but she felt it had more to do with his state of undress than the fact he’d wanted to revisit their situation and discuss what he’d done.
She’d been in her room when she’d heard his familiar stride in the hall and winced when his door had closed just shy of a slam.
Knowing Tommy couldn’t have taken the system far, she’d gone out to take a look at possible hiding places when Denz had spotted her.
A grackle squawked overhead, drawing her out of her dazed state to the beach in front of her now.
“Claire? You sure you’re okay?” Denz asked.
Claire turned her head and tried not to notice how good Denz looked in his swim trunks. The man’s shoulder was still scarred and bruised, but he had a good tan and plenty of muscles, and even staring at her from behind his dark aviators, he looked, well, good. “Just a lot on my mind.”
“I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
Oh, she was sure he’d been told a lot of things. But how could she share what had happened with Tommy when her brain had yet to process it? Who was that angry, bitter boy who’d made her gasp and cry with pain? “Tommy and I had a fight.”
“I gathered as much. Anything I can do to help?”
She and Denz had sat there in silence for the last thirty minutes or so, staring at the ocean while breathing in the salt air. Now she grabbed her sunscreen and debated on whether or not to ask her next question. “No. Um, I need to turn. Would you…mind?” she asked, holding up the spray. “Just my back.”
“No problem.”
She watched as he shoved himself up out of the beach chair and took the two steps toward hers. He extended a hand, and she automatically accepted it, only to regret it when she saw his head tilt and his mouth firm.
Claire quickly shoved the spray at him and pulled her hand away, forcing him to hurry to catch it.
