Chapter Fifteen

Will hadn’t slept more than two hours, maybe three, hot and hard and miserable for most of the night. By five, he’d abandoned his sweaty bed and headed upstairs to his old workout room to pump iron and punch out the frustrations.

Which hadn’t helped a bit since all he’d done was stare at his old bed and remember all the hours he and Jocelyn had spent there. On the bed, not in it. Either way, it was some one hundred and eighty fucking months later, and he was still imagining what he wanted to do to her on or in that bed.

After an icy shower, he packed up what he needed for the day and made his usual trek across the backyard to the Bloom house, tapping on the back kitchen door before using his key to go inside.

Most mornings he found Guy in front of the TV or working on some craft. Sometimes the old boy was still asleep and Will made sure he was up and knew more or less what day it was.

And some days, like today, Guy was busy in the kitchen, making his own breakfast, whistling a tune and acting like nothing—absolutely nothing—was wrong with him.

These days baffled Will, of course, but right now it just infuriated him because Jocelyn wasn’t here, seeing just how normal Guy was.

Sometimes.

“Good morning, William!” He looked up from the small center island, where he was measuring milk for his oatmeal. “Can I interest you in a heart-healthy breakfast? That Doctor Oz is always yapping about the power of the oat.”

“I’m good, buddy. Just stopping by to see how you’re doing.”

Guy beamed at him. “You are the best son in the world.”

Was he “normal” enough this morning to handle the truth? “I’m not your son,” Will said quietly. “And you know that.”

He braced for waterworks, but Guy’s smile never wavered. “Does the blood matter that much? You’re as much a son as I could dream of having.”

Oh, yeah, he was in good shape today. “Thanks.” Will jutted his chin toward the oatmeal. “And, you know what? I’ll have a bowl of that if you’re pouring.”

The days like this were so rare, and Will didn’t really feel like rushing out of here, leaving Guy alone.

“I was just wondering,” Guy said as he reached for another cereal bowl. “You think that Clean House gal’s comin’ back here today?”

“Jocelyn?” Will took a seat at the kitchen table, eyeing the other man. When he was this lucid, Will had to wonder. Didn’t he recognize his own daughter? Didn’t Guy remember Will and the night he’d threatened to end his career or his life?

Didn’t he remember anything?

“Yeah. Do you think, William? I really like her.”

“Me, too,” he admitted.

Guy turned from the microwave before he punched the numbers to warm his oatmeal. “I can tell.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“She’s a looker.”

Will blew out a breath and stabbed his fingers in his hair, the thoughts that kept him awake all night plaguing him. Of course he was still attracted to her. Still lost in pools of brown eyes tinged with vulnerability and a fight for control. Still wanted to take away that control with his mouth, open her up with his hands, get inside her with his—

“Well, would you?”

Will shook his head clear. “Sorry. Would I what?”

Guy chuckled. “Oh, she’s got you good. You don’t even know what day or time it is.”

Will skewered him with a look. “You should talk.”

That made Guy laugh more, smiling as he went about the business of serving them both oatmeal, smug with his ability to be the one to handle the chores today.

After he had his first taste, Will put his spoon down and looked at Guy. “C’mon. What did you just ask me before?”

Guy gave him a look of sheer incredulity. “You expect me to remember that?” His shoulders shook with more laughter. “I’m funny today.”

“Were you always funny?” Will asked, knowing the answer but wondering what the hell this old man thought he used to be. He didn’t know his own daughter, he didn’t know his own neighbor; did he know himself?

“Can’t say.” Guy slurped his oatmeal. “But what the hell difference does it make? I’m funny now.”

Really, what the hell difference did it make? Why couldn’t he get Jocelyn to see that? Not just because she might change her mind about putting the old guy away but because she could forgive him.

And if she forgave him, if she could take that monumental, impossible, unbelievably hard step and forgive this man who didn’t even remember who he’d been, then she could let go.

Because right now she couldn’t let go of a penny if her fingers were greased, let alone a lifelong hate match she was determined to win.

Until she let go, she couldn’t do anything that he had been thinking about doing all night.

“You look mighty serious, William.”

“I’m just thinking.”

“ ’Bout Missy?”

He smiled. “Yeah.”

“You got it bad, boy. Oh, I know what I was going to ask you!” His whole face brightened.

“What?”

“Why aren’t you married?”

He flinched a little at the question, thrown like an unexpected knuckleball that bounced off the plate and into the dirt. “I was,” he said. “I’m divorced.”

Guy nodded, scraping his spoon around a nearly empty bowl. “I was married.”

Will stayed very still. “I know.”

“Her name was Mary… Beth.”

“Jo,” he corrected, and Guy looked up with a shocked expression. “Mary Jo,” Will added. “Not Mary Beth.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Will stood slowly, picking up his bowl, watching for signs that Guy was about to lose it. Some conversations just sent him over the edge of frustration because he wanted to remember and couldn’t.

“Bet she was pretty,” he said softly. “That Mary Jo.”

“She was.” He rinsed the bowl and opened the dishwasher. “Do you want to know something about her?”

When he didn’t answer, Will turned to see Guy very slowly shredding his paper napkin into long strips, concentrating with everything he had, his thick fingers shaking a little.

“Do you, Guy?”

He looked over the napkin at Will. “I saw a show about papier mâché. Did you know that’s a French word?”

“I guess.” But how did Guy know that and not his own wife’s name?

“I think I’m going to try that.”

“Do you want to know about Mary Jo?” Will insisted, a burn of frustration stinging his gut.

“Don’t know any Mary Jo,” he said, then he balled up the napkin pieces and squeezed so hard his knuckles turned white. “And I don’t want to.”

And, just like that, Guy’s moment of clarity was over.

“I gotta go, buddy,” Will said, crossing the kitchen to take Guy’s bowl. “I’ve got to run a few errands in town before I head to work. You going to be okay?”

“Who, me? I’m fine, William. Just fine. I’ll see you at lunchtime.”

“There might be a sheriff’s cruiser in the neighborhood,” Will warned.

He pushed up. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m a celebrity now because of that television show.” He chuckled. “Hope that Missy comes by later to see me.”

He shuffled away, his bedroom slippers tapping against the linoleum, a sound as heartbreaking as anything Will had ever heard.

Serenity hung over Barefoot Bay like the lone pelican that hovered over the still Gulf waters looking for breakfast. Morning on this beach was beyond divine, silent but for the soft breaking of the surf and the occasional cry of a gull, perfect for an hour of yoga before a day of—whatever the day would hold.

Jocelyn dug her toes into the morning-cool sand and tried to conjure up a mental to-do list. There was little she hated as much as an open day.

Okay, she could visit more homes. Or she could pack more of Guy’s boxes. She could always help Tessa garden or go find Zoe for some shopping or—an unwanted chill danced over her. She could find Will.

Which was all she really wanted to do.

A bolt of frustration pushed her across the beach, closer to the hard-packed sand where she could begin her stretching exercises. Find the source of frustration and eliminate it, the inner life coach demanded.

Will, of course. He made her frustrated and needy and out of control. A few stolen kisses and Jocelyn’s much-ignored libido had kicked into overdrive, torturing her with thoughts of his hands and his body and his—hands.

But it wasn’t just Will. She felt lost, somehow. Disconnected from a business that had occupied her brain every waking minute, distant from a city she mostly loathed but had managed to call home.

It was no wonder she felt out of sorts and lost.

As she approached the water’s edge, two sets of footprints pulled her attention. Fresh, deep, one large, one much smaller.

The footprints of a couple walking side by side down the beach.

Jocelyn placed her bare foot in the smaller set and followed the steps, headed south, with the lapping waves on her right. The footprints continued for about a hundred feet, then turned toward the water.

This couple had gone for a morning swim together.

For a moment she stood and stared at the horizon, imagining what it would be like to be that free, that much in love. The smell of salt and sea hanging heavy in the morning air, in the arms of a trusted man, giving yourself so completely.

The ache that took hold of her engulfed her full body, and it was not just sexual.

Jocelyn ached for love.

She let the next wave wash that thought away, following the footsteps when they continued about forty feet away, knowing exactly whose footsteps she was walking in. Of course they took her right to the construction trailer.

She stepped up to the door of the trailer and tapped lightly. “Any owners in here?” She pushed the door just enough to get a peek of Lacey and Clay, kissing at the coffee machine in the front reception area. They turned, both sporting soaking wet hair and satisfied smiles.

And Jocelyn ached some more.

“Joss!” Lacey said, a flush on her cheeks. “You’re up early.”

“Not as early as some of our resident swimmers.”

They laughed and shared a look. “We take a dip every morning on the way to work,” Clay told her. “Probably won’t be able to do that soon, so we’re taking advantage of it.”

“You know, when the guests come it’ll be awkward,” Lacey said quickly.

“You don’t wear suits?” Jocelyn asked, fighting a smile.

“They’re optional.” Clay winked at her. “Want some coffee?”

“I was going to do a little yoga on the beach, but I could stand a cup. Black, please.”

Clay grabbed a mug from the makeshift shelves by the coffee station. “Lacey was just saying the other day that we should have morning yoga on the beach,” he said. “Our guests would love that.”

“Or suit-optional swimming,” Jocelyn teased, taking her coffee and giving a mock toast to Clay. “They’d love that, too.”

“Here’s what they’re going to love,” Lacey said, waving Jocelyn to the wobbly card table where she unfurled a set of blueprints. “Wait until you see these, Joss.”

A few minutes later, Jocelyn was still studying the plans and still speechless with admiration.

“Isn’t my husband talented?” Lacey asked, the question directed to Jocelyn but her smile beaming to Clay.

“It’s a team effort,” he said humbly.

But it was a fact. He may be attentive and sweet and attractive, but the man was a stunningly gifted architect, and the plans Jocelyn had just perused proved that.

“This spa and treatment center is unbelievable,” Jocelyn agreed. “Mimosa Key has never even dreamed of anything this glorious. I love how high-end it is but how natural and even simple it feels.”

“That’s the whole goal of Casa Blanca,” Lacey said. “Simple luxury in the arms of mother nature.”

“Hey.” Jocelyn snapped her fingers. “Nice tagline.”

Clay ambled over to glance at the plans, still sipping coffee. “We have buildings to finish, roads to lay, and a whole hell of a lot of details before we can get to the fun stuff like taglines and holistic spa centers.”

“You’ll get it done,” Lacey said, pride and certainty in her voice.

Jocelyn looked up from the blueprints. “Oh, the confidence of true love.”

“I know, right?” Clay laughed, rounding the desk where he worked. “It worries me, though. The higher they go, the harder they fall.”

“You’re not going to fall,” Lacey said before turning to Jocelyn. “He’s got the financing figured out and he’s found these amazing deals on everything we need. The subs love him.”

Clay lifted his booted feet and dropped them on his desk, grinning at Jocelyn. “My wife forgot the walking-on-water part,” he said with a self-deprecating eye roll. “And speaking of the subs, I missed my villa carpenter yesterday. Is he going to be back or are you two off gallivanting around Naples again today?”

“They weren’t gallivanting,” Lacey corrected. “Were you?”

“We looked at an assisted-living facility for my father.” And then there was a wee bit of gallivanting. “I can go on my own if you need him. I really don’t want to be the one to slow down progress on this.” She gestured toward the plans, but Lacey moved the blueprints away.

“If you need him, take him,” she said. “We’ll be fine.”

Clay made a face that said they wouldn’t be fine at all. “You’re really getting soft, Lace,” he said with a smile.

Lacey smiled back. Jocelyn had the distinct feeling that there was a serious silent conversation going on and she definitely did not speak the secret language.

“I’ll do some more work down at my father’s house today,” Jocelyn said. “I can go visit some of the other places tomorrow. It’s just that Will wants to go. He’s so…” She shook her head. “Invested.”

“He cares about your dad,” Clay said. “I’ve picked that up in things he’s said.”

Jocelyn cast her eyes toward the plans, not wanting to respond to that statement. She didn’t have to look up to know Lacey and Clay were silently communicating again.

Let them. They didn’t understand; they didn’t know the whole story. Nobody did.

Well, a few people did. Unlikely people. Charity Grambling. Coco Kirkman.

“The thing I like about Will,” Clay said slowly, taking his feet off the desk so he could lean forward to make his point, or maybe just to get Jocelyn to meet his piercing blue gaze. “Besides the fact that he is one of the most meticulous and talented carpenters I’ve ever met, is that he’s, you know, full of heart.”

The words, for some reason, stabbed at Jocelyn’s own heart. That was just so true—and so scary. Jocelyn wasn’t full of heart. Her heart was closed, firm and tight, and Will’s was wide open and giving.

He deserved someone who could love him the way he loved, and that would never, ever be her.

“Was he always that way?” Lacey asked Jocelyn. “I mean, when I knew him as a teenager, he was just that superstar baseball player who was going to be the next Derek Jeter.”

Jocelyn smiled. “I guess he’s always been an emotional guy. Played baseball with heart and now he builds villas with heart.” And kisses with heart.

“And now,” Clay added as he stood. “He does adult day care with heart.”

But that was wrong. That adult hadn’t earned Will’s heart.

“You headed out?” Lacey asked, looking up at Clay with warmth in her golden brown eyes.

“The DOT guys are coming at seven-thirty to do the embankment inspections. When the Department of Transportation shows, I’m there.” He came around the back of the table, placing his hands on Lacey’s shoulders to lean over and look at the plans. “So, Jocelyn, you like this high-end superorganic over-the-top-expensive spa and wellness center?”

Jocelyn laughed at the hint of sarcasm in his tone. “I think it’s amazing and, as an investor, I think it’s going to be quite profitable.”

“It could be,” he agreed. “But expensive as hell to build.”

“The spa isn’t important to Clay,” Lacey explained. “He’s all about the structures and design.”

He bent over and kissed her head. “Take it easy today, okay?” he whispered.

She shot him a look and nodded. “Easy as I can considering…” Her voice trailed off and they shared one more look. “Considering what we’re building here,” she finished.

“Just don’t get stressed out.” One more kiss and he straightened, giving Jocelyn a wink. “She’s the one who’s going to need a spa treatment.”

Lacey flicked away the idea with a disdainful fingertip. “I’ve had enough while I did research. I just want to get this thing done, fast. Go get the roads approved, Clay, so we can pour the asphalt and start building the privacy wall.”

He gave her shoulder a squeeze but looked at Jocelyn. “She’s a slave driver.”

“She’s in a hurry,” Lacey corrected. “And we want to stay on schedule.”

He saluted her. “Got it, boss. See ya, ladies.”

He poured another cup of coffee and left them alone in the trailer.

“You’re so happy,” Jocelyn observed.

Lacey’s eyes moistened a little. “You have no idea.”

“No, I don’t,” she said on a sigh.

Lacey reached over the plans and gave Jocelyn’s hand a squeeze. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Rough night.”

“Were you with Will?” she asked.

“No, of course not. Why would I be with Will?”

Lacey shrugged. “Just wondering. You didn’t come over for dinner last night and Tessa and Zoe said you didn’t go out for Mexican with them. So we thought—”

“Don’t think. I spent the evening alone.”

“You do like your solitude,” Lacey said. “Zoe says being alone is like air to you.”

“Zoe’s smarter than she acts. I made a sandwich with all that lovely food you stocked in my fridge. I was really tired.”

“Tell me about it,” Lacey said. “I crashed around nine, so it’s fine.” She searched Jocelyn’s face again. “You sure you don’t want to talk about Will?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She tapped the plans. “So how are you going to fit a life coach into all of this and what do you need from me?”

Lacey took the cue, shifting her attention to the plans. “Well, I’ll have to hire, of course. People to run the spa and treatment centers, obviously, and a fitness expert, and a few trainers. I’ll need an aesthetician and beauty specialists, and a masseuse. ” Lacey sighed slowly. “It’s going to be a lot.”

“You haven’t taken on more than you can handle, have you?” Because she sounded utterly overwhelmed by the work.

“Yeah, but if I knew I had a really great spa manager, someone with incredible organization and people skills…” She leaned forward. “Maybe with a little life-coaching experience and knowledge of this community…”

The implication couldn’t be ignored. “Me? I’m…” For one flash of a second, Jocelyn imagined herself running a state-of-the-art spa, surrounded by beauty, peace, and people trying to improve themselves. It would be crisp, clean, pure—and safe. “I’m not your girl.”

“Why not?”

She tried to laugh it off. “Um, because I have a business and a life in Los Angeles.”

Lacey just lifted a brow. “You don’t love living in L.A.”

She didn’t argue that.

“And that business is in the tank at the moment.”

Deep.

“And if Zoe were here, she’d probably ask, ‘What life?’”

Jocelyn laughed. “So true. But you need someone trained in spa management and hospitality.”

“I’m trained in hospitality, remember? I almost have a degree in it.”

“Well, then because you need someone who…” She couldn’t think of another reason, damn it. “Who lives here. Or close by.”

Lacey dropped her elbows on the table. “I got Tessa here, didn’t I?”

“Are you serious about this?”

“Why not?”

“Aren’t you going to run the spa?” Jocelyn asked.

“I’m going to run the resort, or at least hire the right management, and I’m going to run…” She leaned back and shook her head a little, a hint of sleeplessness suddenly evident under her eyes. “Owning this place is a huge job. Clay wants to be an architect, not a resort manager. I’m looking to farm out whatever I can and I want those people to be trusted friends. I want to surround myself with people I love and who’ll love my kids and husband, so I’m starting early recruitment. Would you even think—”

“Did you say kids? Plural?”

Lacey’s jaw dropped and she slapped a hand over her mouth. “Shit,” she muttered. “I did.”

For a second, they just stared at each other as a slow smile curved Lacey’s lips. “I suck at secrets.”

Jocelyn jumped up and let out a little scream. “Oh my God, Lacey!”

They hugged awkwardly over the table, nearly knocking it over, and then, laughing, they both scooted around for a proper embrace.

“Can you believe it?” Lacey squeaked, her eyes good and teary now.

“How far?”

“Six weeks.”

Jocelyn leaned back, still holding her shoulders, looking at Lacey with new eyes. That’s what was radiating off her. Not just love, but motherhood. And a damn understandable reason for exhaustion. “You want this.” It wasn’t a question.

“So bad.”

“Does Ashley know she’s going to be a sister?”

“We haven’t told a soul,” she said. “Not my parents, not Ashley, not Tessa.” She made a face. “Which is not going to be fun.”

“Why? She’ll be thrilled.”

“Doubtful. You know how badly she wanted a baby. All those years trying with Billy, and his new girlfriend gets pregnant before the ink was dry on the divorce settlement.”

Jocelyn waved that off. “Tessa loves you and she’s going to be the proudest aunt of all. Why are you waiting?”

“Just keeping it to ourselves, making sure everything’s okay. But I’m getting so used to the idea, and, God, how do you keep secrets so well?”

“It’s an art,” she said drily. “So you don’t have to worry about me. I won’t tell anyone until you’re ready.”

Lacey dropped back in her seat, still looking worried. “I guess I’m ready, once we tell Ashley. But I am starting to stress out big time about running this place and having a baby.”

“You’re going to be fine,” Jocelyn assured her. “You’ll do it the same way every working mother does. With lists and help and sleep-deprivation and wine. Wine! You had wine the other night.”

“I fake-drank.” She grinned. “My plants are pretty looped, though.”

Jocelyn laughed. “You are a sneak!”

But Lacey leaned in again, reaching a hand to Jocelyn. “My offer is legit and now you know just how much I need someone like you. Maybe not immediately, but after this baby is born, we’ll be close to opening and I want this place to run so smoothly. But I also want to be a good mom.” She touched her belly, rubbing. “So, think about it, okay? Come and run my spa for me. You’ll have plenty of time to close up your business.”

She rolled her eyes. “My business is closing for me.”

“It would be so wonderful, Joss—”

The door popped open with a resounding bang followed by an equally loud, “I’m pissed!”

Tessa bounded inside, her boots hitting the floorboards so hard the whole trailer shook.

“What’s wrong?” Jocelyn and Lacey asked in perfect unison.

Tessa waved her cell phone. “The son of a bitch did it again!” She marched across the small space and slammed the phone between them, nearly collapsing the card table. “His girlfriend is pregnant again! And he had the audacity to text me. Their first kid isn’t even a year old, they still haven’t gotten married, and now he has another one on the way.”

Jocelyn and Lacey were stone silent, both blinking like they’d been caught in headlights, but Tessa was too worked up to notice. She grabbed a folding chair and practically threw it next to the table, plopping down with a soft curse.

“How can he text me like I’m supposed to be happy for him? Who does that, anyway—texts their ex-wife when their new girlfriend is pregnant? What the hell does he think I’m made of?”

They still couldn’t quite talk. Lacey swallowed hard and Jocelyn dug for the right thing to say, coming up with nothing.

Tessa looked from one to the other, then down at the plans. “What are you two discussing, anyway?”

“M-my…” Lacey stuttered, obviously unable to come up with anything.

“Job offer,” Jocelyn supplied. “She wants me to work here.”

Tessa gasped and grinned and gave a solid clap. “A capital idea!”

And just like that, they managed to steer the conversation away from babies and onto business.