by Jana DeLeon
“I don’t know. They wouldn’t say, but my attorney said it could be months or even years.”
Bea shook her head, clearly disgusted. “More crap—leaving you on hold for that long. Well, when that day comes, I’m going back with you.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Of course it’s necessary. You’re not going to do this alone. You’ve already kept me at a distance on all of this and I respected your wishes then. But I’m done being respectful. From now on, I’m your pushy aunt and the woman who helped raise you.”
Alayna felt her chest tighten. “You’re more than just my aunt and we both know you didn’t just help raise me. You stepped into a big hole in my heart and somehow managed to fill it up.”
Bea sniffed and her eyes reddened a bit. “You and I can handle anything this world throws at us. You’re a strong woman, Alayna. Stronger than you probably think.”
“I used to feel that way.”
“And you will again. What are you going to do about the restaurant? Are you going to reopen?”
“No. A big chunk of the expansion capital was a loan from Warren’s company. The FBI seized the restaurant along with everything else.”
Bea’s eyes widened, and Alayna saw her jaw flex. “That’s ridiculous! You put your money in as well. How can they just take it like it’s nothing? Good Lord. I had no idea. I wish you would have told me.”
“Why? So both of us could be angry and upset and unable to change the situation? The truth is, even if the FBI hadn’t seized the restaurant, it was still over. In the beginning, the press crucified me. Tried to find the angle that indicated I was part of what Warren had been doing. They came up with nothing, of course, but that didn’t stop them from speculating. And that’s all it takes to tank a restaurant and my reputation. At this point, I probably couldn’t even get a job in New York as the french fry girl at McDonald’s.”
Bea’s face flushed with anger and she reached over and squeezed Alayna’s hand. “I am so sorry, honey. I know how hard you worked and how bad you wanted your own place. And you deserved it. You’ve got the talent and you put in the hours. I wanted it for you so much. To think that all of it could just disappear like that…well, it’s hard to take in.”
Alayna felt tears well up and struggled to keep them from spilling over. Once the initial shock was over, Alayna was certain that losing her restaurant and her reputation was the worst thing to come out of all of it. The truth was, that hurt far more than losing Warren. She supposed that was because the restaurant was real, and Warren was a carefully crafted image with her as an unwitting accessory. And if she was being honest with herself, she was never as invested in Warren as she was in her business. She’d cared for him and enjoyed him, and it was possible she would have eventually felt more, so while the timing of his takedown was crap for her career, it was good for her heart.
“I know you wanted it as badly as I did,” Alayna said. “You’ve supported my dream from the beginning. I feel guilty for letting you down.”
“Don’t you ever say something like that again,” Bea said, her voice firm. “You could never let me down. Warren managed to fool law enforcement, his clients, his friends, and even his own family for years. What is it you think you should have seen that they didn’t?”
“But none of them were romantically involved with him. I believed that the man I saw was the real person. And it was all a huge lie. Am I so foolish or desperate that I couldn’t tell he wasn’t genuine?”
“You’re neither foolish nor desperate. You’re simply a good woman who got taken by an exceptional criminal. You’re not equipped to deal with someone like Warren. Most people aren’t. We don’t think that way, so we’re not looking for it in the people we care about.”
Alayna knew Bea was right. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard those words. Her employees, her shrink, and even the FBI agent who arrested Warren had told her the same thing. But it was still a bitter pill to swallow.
“Did you love him?” Bea asked quietly.
“No. But I did care for him. And I considered him my friend. But none of it was real.”
“Your feelings were real, and who’s to say that Warren didn’t feel something for you too? He’s a seriously troubled man, but you’re a remarkable woman. I can’t help but think he was aware of that.”
“Maybe.” Alayna shrugged. “But if he cared for me at all, how could he involve me with his crimes? How could he lend me dirty money to expand my restaurant?”
Bea sighed. “Because he didn’t think he was going to get caught. Oh honey, I wish I could wave a magic wand and take all the pain away. But since my wand is currently in for repair, all I can offer is this house, cheap wine, and really good Chinese takeout.”
“Best offer I’ve had lately.”
“Better days are coming. This place heals people. You know that.”
Alayna nodded. After her parents died, when Bea told her she’d be moving to Tempest Island, she had dug her heels in, not wanting to leave the only place she’d ever known. Not wanting to have to start over at a new school, make new friends. But every day a bit more of the serenity and beauty of the tiny stretch of sand had trickled into her, until one day, she no longer lashed out over the unfairness of what had happened. Instead, she thought of her parents and smiled, remembering what incredible people they’d been, and knowing how happy they would be to see her and Bea enjoying life again.
When everything in New York came crashing down on her, the island was where she longed to be. To retreat to the one place that could break down her sadness and allow her to heal. The five months the FBI had held her in New York were brutal, with most of her time spent hiding in her apartment. The people she’d called friends had disappeared like fireflies at dawn, but she couldn’t blame them. The relationships were all surface level and none of them were willing to risk their own situations over a casual friendship. Guilt by association traveled fast and well in the city.
“Now that we’ve got this over with,” Bea said, “I won’t be asking about it again. But if you want to talk, then you know I’m always here to listen.”
“And to give out advice?”
“If I’ve got anything worth giving, you know it’s coming out of my mouth. Probably coming out even if it’s not worth giving. But if you’d like to speak to someone who might know better, I have a friend with a practice on the mainland. She’s older, so none of that new age crap.”
Alayna nodded. “I was seeing someone in New York. She lived in my building and offered to see me at my apartment, which worked perfectly for me. But I’m not sure that I want to do that any longer. I’ll let you know.”
“Good. So now that the serious business is out of the way, I want to hear more about your sexy neighbor and his boxers. Were they the short kind or the longer ones? How are his abs? I’ve never had the pleasure of seeing him without a shirt, but now that you’re here, I might find more reasons to drop by hoping for a glimpse.”
The sadness that had enveloped Alayna drifted away and she laughed. “I don’t think I even noticed his abs at the time. I was too focused on the gun.”
“That’s unfortunate. But understandable.”
“I did see him paddleboarding later on though. His abs are well developed and very tan. You said he’s with the Navy, right? What does he do?”
“I don’t know. I asked, but he was a bit dismissive about it. Didn’t want to go into his position or the injury. Can’t blame him, I suppose. No reason for him to hand out his personal business to a nosy old woman. Maybe you could find out for us.”
“Don’t even go there. I’m here to figure out how to fix my shambles of a life. I’ve got no use for, and am no use to, other people, especially men.”
Bea looked a little disappointed. “Well, at least snap a picture next time he’s out on that board. Give your aunt a little thrill.”
Alayna smiled. “I suppose it’s the least I can do since I’m living in your house.”
“Consider it rent.
”
Chapter Eight
The shipping company with Alayna’s things arrived at 9:00 a.m. the next morning. She’d slept restlessly and had been up for hours before the truck backed into the drive. She’d sold her furniture and donated a lot of other stuff, but she’d still had a good twenty boxes when she was done packing what she couldn’t part with. The vast majority of it was kitchen supplies. They were chef quality, and no way was she selling them for pennies on the dollar.
She stepped outside to greet the driver, and he gave her a nod as he verified her name and address. Then he opened up the back of the truck and started pushing boxes to the back edge.
“Need some help?”
His voice sounded behind her and Alayna jumped, then turned around to see Luke Ryan standing there. At least he’d managed to dress this time. And so far, he hadn’t pulled a gun on anyone.
Before she could answer, the driver piped up. “I wouldn’t turn it down. There were supposed to be two of us on this run, but my partner’s wife went into labor early. I’m trying to figure out how to keep my schedule.”
“Then let’s get you unloaded and out of here,” Luke said and grabbed two boxes from the truck. “Where do you want these?”
Alayna hesitated for a moment but couldn’t come up with a single argument against his help that didn’t make her sound petty. Better for her to let Luke do his manly duty and then get back over to his side of the dune.
“I pushed the kitchen table against the wall,” she said as she headed into the house. “I figured on stacking the boxes on the table first, then under and in front of it. I’m afraid there’s probably more boxes than space.”
Luke put the boxes on the back corner of the table and nodded. “We’ll make it work.”
Alayna tried not to notice the way his biceps rippled when he extended his arms to place the boxes on the table or his wide shoulders as he walked back outside. Clothes didn’t really hide anything that he had to offer and just admitting that to herself made Alayna uncomfortable. She couldn’t afford an attraction right now. Or maybe ever. Clearly, her judgment was crap. Luke Ryan might seem like a nice guy—albeit a bit quick on the draw—but she wasn’t ready to trust that opinion.
And besides, it didn’t matter. He was there to recuperate from his injury. But once he was healed, he’d go back to whatever it was that he’d done before. Luke was temporary, and she couldn’t afford to place any effort into temporary. She had an entire life to rebuild, and all her energy had to be focused on her future.
On permanent.
She headed outside to grab a box and passed Luke on the way out. He gave her a broad smile and a wink, and she felt parts of her body that she thought had shut down tingle with awakening. She picked up the pace and grabbed a box, careful to avoid looking directly at him as she carried it inside.
The three of them made quick work of the boxes, and Alayna signed the release and gave the driver a nice tip. He smiled his appreciation and thanked them both for helping him, claiming he might be able to come close to staying on time. He lifted his hand out the window to wave as he drove off, and Alayna and Luke waved back. As the truck pulled away, Alayna stood in an uncomfortable silence.
Then her upbringing took over. Southern manners were required regardless of one’s discomfort. If this were any other time—before Warren—and someone had helped her with a sweaty, boring task, she would have tried to repay them. No way was she going to forgo the positive things, even if it meant being slightly uneasy.
“I really appreciate the help,” Alayna said to Luke. “Can I offer you an iced tea or beer—I know it’s a little early for that. I made fresh lemonade this morning, if that interests you.”
“Fresh…like from actual lemons?”
“That’s the generally accepted method.”
“I haven’t had fresh lemonade since I was a kid.”
“Then let’s have that. I’ll pour up some big glasses and we can sit on the patio and cool down in the breeze. Unless you have something you need to do.”
He smiled. “My schedule is clear.”
“Good,” she said as she glanced back at the truck to avoid the smile. “I made some cinnamon rolls this morning as well if you’d like one. Those, I’m afraid, are not fresh. They came out of a can.”
“I’ll take anything you’re willing to offer.”
She whirled around and hurried inside.
That’s exactly what she was afraid of.
Luke watched as Alayna hurried to the refrigerator and prepared the lemonade. He made her uncomfortable. Yesterday, he figured it had been the gun, but the way she’d avoided his eyes as they unloaded the boxes told him it was something else. She wasn’t scared of him or she wouldn’t have invited him into her house, but there was something going on with her. Something below the carefully polite surface.
He’d made the suggestive comment without thinking and then could have kicked himself for it. He blamed being out of practice. It had been a long time since a woman had sparked his interest. And wouldn’t it just figure that the one who did was carrying so much baggage she couldn’t even manage a simple exchange without looking away?
She plopped a cinnamon roll on a paper plate and handed it to him before heading to the back patio with the two large glasses. He sat at the small patio table, took a huge bite out of the cinnamon roll, then sighed his approval.
“Tastes great,” he said. “You’re not having one?”
“I’ve already had two. If I have another, I’ll make myself sick.”
He nodded. “I wouldn’t have figured you for a disposable calories sort of breakfast. Your aunt told me you’re a chef.”
“I have yogurt and fruit, but sometimes you just feel like saying to hell with it.”
He smiled, surprised at her statement. Most of the good-looking women he’d met were obsessed with diet, afraid to gain a pound. Although he thought Alayna could stand to gain a few. She had that gaunt look about her that implied long-term physical or emotional distress. And the dark circles under her eyes were indicative of lack of sleep.
“I’m happy you said to hell with it today,” he said and lifted his glass. When the first swig of lemonade rushed into his mouth, his eyes widened. He took two big gulps before putting the glass down and realized she was studying him.
“Well?” she asked.
“That’s incredible. Just the right balance of sweet and tart. If you bottled this, you could sell it and make a fortune.”
“The unit cost would be so high, it would never sell. And acquisition of suitable product would be an issue as well as labor. There’s a reason companies use machinery to pump out the cheap stuff.”
Food business, Luke reminded himself. “Bea said you own a restaurant in New York.”
“I used to. Not anymore.”
The way she said it implied it wasn’t up for discussion. Maybe the restaurant had failed. The boxes inside indicated she was here for more than a visit. Maybe that was the reason for her physical decline.
“You thinking of opening something here?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. Real estate on the island is expensive, and start-up costs for even a small venue are high. Besides, the hours are brutal when you’re just the chef. When you’re the owner as well, they go straight past brutal and into absurd.”
He didn’t know anything about the restaurant business except what he’d seen on reality shows, but what she said made sense. He imagined the competition in New York made it even worse. But she hadn’t given him an outright no. She’d said, ‘I don’t think so,’ which meant she either wasn’t sure or simply had no idea what she was going to do. He understood that state all too well.
“I can see how the hours would get old,” he said. “And I imagine it was a lot of stress running a restaurant in New York. The competition has got to be fierce.”
A flicker of something crossed her face. Aggravation? Anger? He wasn’t quite sure.
“It is,” she said finally. “Lo
ok, I really don’t want to talk about my restaurant. Things went well until they didn’t. And then they went horribly wrong. It’s something I don’t want to revisit.”
“I can appreciate that.”
“So what about you? Bea says you’re on medical leave. How’s your recovery going?”
He frowned. “You know how you don’t want to talk about your restaurant?”
Her eyes widened. “Ah. Got it.”
“Let’s just say we both seem to be at a crossroads and neither of us seems overly happy about it.”
She gave him an empathetic look. “Probably why I stocked up on disposable calories.”
“I’m always happy to help you out with those. You know, so you don’t get sick eating them all. And if you want to fix lemonade, hell, I’d pay for everything. Even the labor.”
He managed to coax a smile out of her, and he felt his heart tug. Two wounded warriors. That’s what they were. He didn’t know what Alayna’s injuries were or how she’d gotten them, but he could recognize a kindred spirit easily enough. Life had beaten Alayna Scott down. But it hadn’t taken her out. That spark was still there. Maybe his was as well.
He just had to find it. And maybe douse it with gasoline.
Bea looked up from the display she was working on when the door chime went off. One look at the woman who stepped inside ruined her previously decent mood. Veronica Whitmore was the resident rich bitch on Tempest Island and thought everyone who lived there should bow to her as though she were the Queen of England. Bea had no use for her on any given day, and since Veronica never came into Bea’s bookstore, Bea knew the reason for her visit. Forcing a blank look on her face, because pleasant just wasn’t going to happen, Bea approached the woman who was standing in the entry as if waiting for trumpets to signal her arrival.
“Veronica,” Bea said. “You looking for a book?”
Veronica gave her a derisive look. “I prefer musical theater for my entertainment.”
“Then you must not get a lot of it.”
