LILY’S LIFE LESSON #11
Everything that comes before the “but” is total bullshit.
Two weeks on the job and Lily was slaying her to-do list.
Lawrence was thrilled. Trace, on the other hand, was avoiding her, and they still hadn’t gone over the new system because he’d come up with a new excuse each day.
Change was hard. Maybe he was as afraid of change as much for himself as he was for Ben.
So their conversations had taken place mostly over text or phone. Considering the circus-animal flips her insides did when he was around, avoiding him wasn’t a bad thing, except communicating by phone and text slowed her progress.
The owners still weren’t utilizing the booking program, and Lawrence was bringing on new employees every day to accommodate the approaching tourist season. Training the entire staff had to be a top priority.
Starting with Trace, no matter how busy Mr. Resistant-to-Change might be.
Lily posted FULL-SERVICE RESTAURANT COMING SOON! and CHECK OUT OUR SUMMER KIDS’ CAMP ACTIVITIES CALENDAR! to social media and the new website. When she was done, she pulled out her cell and sent Trace a text.
Need to meet about the booking system.
His response was swift.
Maybe tomorrow.
You’re avoiding me.
Funny how their roles had reversed.
No, I’m not. Been busy hauling supplies.
Another problem she could help him solve if he’d meet with her.
New system isn’t hard. Promise.
He didn’t respond as quickly that time. Finally the dots started to jump.
It’ll have to wait. Landing in a few with guest.
She smiled to herself, clutched her phone, and pushed back from her desk. A photo of a new guest stepping off the resort’s plane would be great for social media.
She slid on a pair of retro Ray-Bans as she left through the front doors. The sun had finally come out, and the blue sky, the chirping birds, and the scent of the spring flowers she’d asked the groundskeepers to plant were divine. She rounded the corner and waved to Spence.
From his ladder, he nodded a greeting, then went back to rolling a new coat of paint onto the building’s wood trim.
She made her way to the dock and took in the beauty of the property. The smooth water reflected the sky like a mirror. She slowly spun in a full circle and drew in a satisfying breath at the transformation. The Remington’s appearance was fresher, more inviting, and she was proud of her work.
If she could accomplish that much in such a short time, then surely she could convince her boss to learn the new booking system.
And ducks could fly without feathers.
She snorted considering the ducklings were still covered in fuzz, but Ben had put different-colored Velcro bands around their legs, claiming it would prevent them from flying away. Lily knew it was so she could tell them apart. At school, he’d conveniently made a chart that listed each duck’s name along with the color of its band.
The kid had color-coded a bunch of ducks. Pretty clever, especially for an eight-year-old.
A buzzing noise sounded in the distance, and Lily shielded her eyes as she stared into the sky to find Trace’s plane. A speck appeared, the bright sun glaring off the metal when it got closer.
She pulled up the new booking app on her phone and thumbed through it to find the guest’s name. Ronald Parker was staying through the weekend. Alone. She pulled up the vacant rooms and assigned one to him.
Then she recorded Trace’s plane coming in for a landing. It skipped across the water and slowed to a stop. As he guided it toward the dock, he came into view through the front windshield.
The plane coasted right up to where she stood, and Lily’s breath caught. Trace’s aviators, his headset . . . not to mention the shadow of stubble on his face . . . were simply gorgeous.
“Hey, Lily.” Elliott came from behind and secured the plane to the dock.
From the pilot’s seat, Trace took off his headset. She couldn’t see his eyes from behind the sunglasses, but Lily could feel his gaze licking over her skin like fire. He climbed out of the plane and opened the door for the passenger.
She lowered the phone and stopped recording.
A man, who looked to be in his late thirties, stepped out.
“I’ll get the bags,” Elliott said to Trace, who went to retrieve his things from the cockpit.
Lily stepped over to greet the guest. “Mr. Parker?” He was dressed in a trendy suit that was too slick for an island vacation.
“That’s correct.” His tone was smooth.
A chill slithered up her spine, and she disliked him instantly. She plastered on a smile. “I’m Lily, the hospitality manager. Welcome.”
Mr. Parker’s attention stayed more on Trace, even when he spoke to Lily. “Thanks.” Stopping Elliott, Parker took charge of his carry-on.
Trace got his things from the cockpit and turned to walk toward her. His black polo stretched taut across his broad shoulders and muscular pecs. Each step he took made her thighs quiver a little more.
Professional, professional, professional.
“Is Mr. Parker’s room ready?” Trace came to a stop in front of her.
His soapy scent and ridiculous good looks scrambled her thoughts. “Um.” There went her amazing command of the English language. She gave herself a mental slap and held up her phone. “It is. I just assigned him a room through the new system’s app.” She gave Trace a dazzling smile. “Standing right here on the dock. That’s how easy it is.”
His jaw ticked.
She looked around Trace and spoke to Elliott. “Please deliver Mr. Parker’s luggage to room 213.”
She turned her attention to the new guest. “Would you mind if I got a picture for our social media?” He fit the new age demographic Lily was trying to bring into the resort.
He fidgeted. “Yes, I would mind.” His words were terse, but then his demeanor shifted, and he gave her a friendly smile. “I’m not fond of cameras.” He gave Trace an unreadable look. “But you two would look great together on camera.” He held his hand out toward Lily’s phone. “Why don’t I take your picture for your page?”
Lily took a step back. “No, but thanks.” She could not let her picture show up on social media.
A wrinkle appeared across Trace’s forehead. Maybe he thought she didn’t want her picture taken with him, or maybe she looked as guilty as she felt. Didn’t matter. If her picture went public in connection with the Remington, it would only be a matter of time before the press showed up. And maybe even the unsavory characters who’d made it their life’s work to threaten the Devereaux family, even the members who hadn’t stolen a dime from FEMA or anyone else.
“Mr. Parker, let’s get you a room key.” Lily led the guest and Trace up the path.
Once they reached the front desk, she slid her glasses to the top of her head and programmed a card key.
He cocked his head to one side. “Have we met? You look familiar.”
“No!” she said too quickly. “No.” She smoothed a hand over a hip. Maybe the press had already found her. “I’m sure I would remember.”
He gave her a suspicious stare.
She wanted to return it in spades. Because there was no doubt in Lily’s mind that Ronald Parker wasn’t who he said he was. No question he had a good reason not to let his picture show up on the internet.
Took one to know one.
She handed over the card key. “Enjoy your stay.”
“I’ll show you the way,” Trace said.
She managed to keep smiling until Trace and Ronald Parker disappeared around a corner. Then she hurried to her office and shut the door to pace in private.
When her eyes locked on her computer, she came to an abrupt stop. Frantic, she sat behind the computer and googled Ronald Parker. A few hundred names came up on various background check sites, but there was no way to tell which one was him.
She brought up Facebook and typed in the name. Several popped up, and she quickly scrolled through them, none with his picture.
When someone knocked, she jumped and stood up. “Come in.”
Trace’s head appeared. “Mr. Parker’s all settled. He scheduled an aerial tour for this weekend.” He gave her the same curious look he had when she’d refused to take a picture with him at the dock. “Everything okay?”
“Yes!” Ack! The adrenaline rush had her volume dialed up. “Yes.” She took a calming breath and walked around to the front of her desk. “I’m antsy to show you the new system and train the staff.” She reached behind her back with one hand and steadied herself against the desk.
His mocha eyes swept over her. Finally, he sighed as if surrendering and pushed the door all the way open. “All right. If it’s got you this excited, then let’s do it.” A lopsided smile formed on his lips.
This is about work. There was no innuendo in his words. There wasn’t.
She slid one butt cheek onto the desk and kicked a leg to work off nervous energy. “When?” She pulled up her calendar and waited.
“Seven o’clock? I’ve got more supply runs. My plane isn’t outfitted for cargo, so I have to make several trips.” He hooked a thumb in his belt loop.
She typed it onto her calendar. “Great. I’ll get the rest of the staff trained this week. I’ll let you know when in case you want to be there.”
“I’m starting to feel like you’re my boss,” he said.
“Speaking of supply runs and cargo, there’s something else we need to talk about.” When his look turned skeptical, she hurried to explain. “I think you’ll like it.” Plus, talking about work might calm her racing heart. Mr. Parker had really spooked her.
Trace pushed off the doorframe and eased past her to sit in the chair in front of the desk. “Okay, hit me with it.”
She leaned in, unable to contain her enthusiasm. “Of course, the financial decisions are above my pay grade, but maybe we could consider using the money from the restaurant lease for a cargo plane.”
He made a face that said he did indeed like what she had to say. He slouched down in his chair, getting comfortable, and his muscular thigh brushed against her swinging leg. She stilled but didn’t break the contact. Neither did he. Instead, he shifted, the friction of that powerful thigh massaging against hers.
A current of electricity didn’t just shimmy up her spine. It scorched through her entire body.
“I’ve spoken to Elliott about the budget.” The roughness of Trace’s voice caused Lily’s stomach to do a flip. “With all the changes we’re making, he doesn’t think we’ll be able to afford a plane right now. Not even with the lease money from the restaurant space.” Another small shift of his thigh, and that wonderful current shot through her again. “Maybe”—his voice turned to gravel, and he cleared his throat—“maybe if we have a successful summer we can reconsider.”
She leaned back and shuffled through the papers on her desk, which pressed her leg harder into his. Heat steamrolled through her. She ignored it, found what she was looking for, and handed it to him. “If you knew how to use the booking system, you’d already know that our summer season is filling up.” She pointed to a number. “That’s how much our bookings have increased.”
He studied the page.
“Besides a few B&Bs, we’re the only major resort on the island, right?” She fiddled with a lock of hair.
He nodded without looking up.
“If more people stay on the island instead of the mainland, business will increase for everyone in Angel Fire Falls. The restaurants, the souvenir shops—they won’t be able to keep up with the new demand unless they’ve prepared in advance.”
His eyes sparkled up at her. With a finger, he flicked the page. “I can use this to convince the island’s business owners to sign up for my delivery service, and open for business with a full client list.”
Bubbling with enthusiasm, Lily kicked her foot again. The friction of their legs made her brain stutter. “It’s just a thought.” She stilled her foot. It was the only way she could think straight.
He angled his head to one side. “At this rate, you’ll have a solution for global warming soon.”
“Is that approval I hear? From the man who didn’t want to hire me?” She stood and tried not to stare at his mouth. That damned unholy mouth that had so much promise.
He eased out of the chair, his eyes never leaving her. They stood toe to toe, him looking down at her from under shuttered lashes. His heat reached for her. Blanketed her.
“See you at seven.” His tone went husky.
So did her breathing. “Yes. Seven. I’ll be ready for you.”
Dear Lord.
“I’ll be ready to work,” she said in a small voice.
He let his gaze drop to her lips before finally stepping away. At the door, he turned back. “I’ll bring dinner to your place.”
Before she could protest that dinner at her place would be too much like a date, he was gone.
She stared at the empty doorway. Waiting for seven o’clock would seem like an eternity. And Lily cursed herself for feeling like it couldn’t come soon enough.
Lily got off work later than expected and hurried home to freshen up before Trace landed on her doorstep with dinner.
Then again, maybe she should make herself look worse. Mat her hair or smudge her makeup. Unless she’d misread the situation in her office earlier, his husky tone and sparkling eyes held a promise. A promise that was far too tempting.
Noise drew her around to the rear of her cottage. Ben had the ducks in their outside pen. “Lily!” he blurted the second he saw her. “Megan was strong enough to eat with the rest of the ducks today!”
Right. They still hadn’t renamed the duckling formerly known as Megan.
“Awesome sauce.” She walked over to the pen and handed Ben her phone. It had become their evening ritual; he took daily pictures for his science project and documented their growth. “It’ll be dark soon. Want to bring them inside for the night?”
One at a time, Ben scooped the ducks into a box so they could carry them back into the cottage.
A Jeep rumbled down the lane. By the sound of it pulling to a stop in front of her cottage, Lily knew it must be seven o’clock.
A tingle started low in her belly and seeped into her arms, her legs, her nipples, her . . .
She shot to her feet. “I’ll carry the box.”
They rounded the corner just as Trace propped a plastic toddler swimming pool on her front porch.
“What’s that, Dad?” Ben lumbered up the steps.
Trace spoke to Ben but looked at Lily. “Dr. Shaw suggested it. I figured Lily’s tired of sharing her tub . . . with ducks.” Something glinted in Trace’s mocha eyes. Something sultry and seductive. Something that said maybe she should consider sharing it with him instead.
The thought of water sluicing off him in the shower made Lily want to lick her lips.
Having to live with that mental picture was so unfair. And uncalled for.
Trace went back to the Jeep and pulled two bags out of the back seat that had VINCENZO’S RISTORANTE written across the front. “Anybody hungry?”
“Yeah!” Ben hollered and threw open her front door.
Lily climbed the steps with the birds. “Starved.” She went inside and set the box next to the duck habitat. “Ben, can you put the birds back in their house? I’ll help your dad with dinner.”
Lily washed up at the kitchen sink. “Thanks,” she said to Trace as he pulled to-go boxes out of the bags. “It’ll be nice to soak in a hot bath.”
Trace froze with a Styrofoam container in his hand. His expression clouded . . . like maybe he was picturing her in nothing but bubble bath suds.
“I mean without having to scrub it out every time.” Her pulse kicked up a notch. She dried her hands on a dish towel and folded it. And refolded it. Twice. “I’ll get utensils.”
Trace finished setting out the boxes. “You should’ve seen me trying to get that thing into the plane. I thought I might have to strap it to the top. I drove the Jeep down to the dock so I wouldn’t have to drag the damn thing all the way here.”
She laughed. “Now that would’ve made great pictures for our social media advertising.” She arranged forks and knives on the table.
“No way.” He put both hands on the back of a chair. “I draw the line at embarrassing social media pictures.”
Lily had to draw the line at any social media pictures. “Same goes for me. I promise not to post any pictures of you if you’ll agree to the same.” She held out her little finger. “Pinkie swear.”
He looked at her hand, his gaze traveling up her arm, across her neck, then raking over her face. Slowly, he hooked his little finger in hers, and all the air seemed to leave the room. He stepped closer. “I hope you know I’ve never pinkie sworn.” That husky voice was back, and it caressed her cheeks. “Ever. It’s not what guys do.” He didn’t untwine their fingers, holding on longer than the customary it’s-sworn-in-pinkies-if-not-in-blood length of time.
When Lily’s phone rang, they broke apart. She checked her cell, and a tremor of guilt raced through her when her mother’s number popped onto the screen. Lily sent it to voice mail and flicked off the ringer.
“Need to take that?” Trace extracted a can of soda and a bottle of wine from a bag.
“Nope.” She squirmed.
He held up the wine. “Got a corkscrew?” His eyes dilated on the last word.
A shiver raced over her. Without a word, she hurried to the kitchen to search the drawers. “Here we go.” She held it up like a prize.
“Ben, go wash up.” Trace’s gaze didn’t leave her.
Lily got two wine glasses out of the cupboard and brought them to the table without making eye contact. She should declare a no-fly zone because her girl parts were waving him onto the tarmac with orange batons.
Once Ben was ready, they sat down and opened their meals.
Trace opened the wine and popped the soda for Ben, who dug in like he hadn’t eaten in a month.
“Ben, slow down.” Trace gave Lily an apologetic look. “I don’t want him to eat like a caveman. It’s one of the symptoms of growing up with only guys in the house.”
Lily’s heart squeezed because Trace hadn’t had a mom around and neither did Ben.
“I distinctly remember getting stabbed with a fork by one of my brothers when I reached for the last pork chop.”
Lily laughed. “Stabbing aside, I think what your family has is pretty special. I’m an only child, so I didn’t have that.” She twirled her wine glass in a circle.
Trace’s brow knitted. “Are your parents gone?”
Her head snapped up. “What?” Loneliness sliced bone-deep because her parents weren’t gone. At least not in the way he meant, but both her parents had been absent emotionally since she was a teenager. So she’d left them behind and hadn’t spoken to her father since the day he was convicted. “Why?”
“You used past tense. I just thought—”
“What if the other ducks aren’t named right?” Ben blurted.
Lily polished off her wine, trying to steady her shaking hand.
Ben rocked gently and moved food around his plate with a fork. “What if Sir Walter Raleigh is a girl? And Belle is a boy?”
Trace refilled Lily’s glass. “Why don’t we focus on renaming . . . Megan . . .” It seemed painful for him to speak the name. “And soon we can take the rest of the ducks to Dr. Shaw, if you want. He can tell us their genders.”
“It might be fun to figure it out on your own,” Lily said to Ben. “And you’d be learning something in the process that you could include in your science project.”
Trace’s brow wrinkled again. “The ducks are your science project?”
Ben rocked harder.
Lily knew a guilty face when she saw one. How could she not, when one stared back at her every time she looked in a mirror? And didn’t that just suck, because the Remingtons had already become the kind of people she didn’t want to keep secrets from. Especially the two sitting at her table.
She lowered her voice. “He was supposed to tell you.”
Trace dragged a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, buddy. I’ve been so busy with work, I forgot all about your project. We never talked about it, did we?”
Ben shrugged. “It’s okay. Lily helped me.”
Trace turned a heart-stopping look on her. “Thank you. I’ll have to find a way to show my gratitude.”
Her throat closed. “Let’s think up a name,” she said to Ben with an unnatural amount of cheer. “How about Captain Quackers?”
Ben belly-laughed.
Trace joined the fun. “Or Count Quackula?”
The rocking stopped as Ben laughed harder.
“I’ve got one.” Lily held up a finger. “Firequacker.”
All three of them burst out laughing.
Trace slid a hand over until his little finger brushed hers. The thrill of his touch rushed up her arm, and her breath hitched.
Their eyes locked, and time seemed to stop.
“What else?” Ben obviously didn’t want the game to end.
Lily moved her hand away, using her fork to pick at the rest of her lasagna. “Since you and I named all the ducks, I think it’s only fair to let your dad name this one.”
Ben nodded.
Trace rubbed his chin like it was a life-changing decision. “I think Waddles fits because of his injured leg. He still limps a little, so what do you think?”
Ben giggled and cheered.
“Perfect.” Lily gave him a warm smile.
“Hey, Ben, why don’t you spend time with them while I help Lily clean the kitchen?” Trace’s chair scraped along the wood floor as he got up and took his dish to the sink.
Lily stood and gathered up the silverware. “You brought dinner. I’ll clean up.” She forgot to breathe when he came up behind her, his chest brushing against her back. Heat arrowed through her, striking at her core.
He reached around her and took her dish. “I don’t mind. It’s the least I can do after you’ve been so kind to my son.”
When they were done cleaning the kitchen, Ben was curled in a ball, watching the ducks through the plastic wall of the habitat. She grabbed a throw pillow from a chair and put it under his head. Then she got a blanket and tucked it around him.
Trace took a seat on the sofa and watched.
She got out her iPad and phone and sat next to him. “Ready to learn the system?” His scent wrapped around her, and his firm thigh pressing into hers played tricks on her concentration.
“I was worried about Ben handling the changes you’d make at the resort.” He adjusted his position, the leather under his large frame squeaking as he moved closer to look at the screen of her iPad. “It seems I’m the one having trouble adapting. We’ve never taken reservations online before.”
She brought up the program. “Once you learn, you’ll see how much easier your life will be.” She held out her hand. “Give me your phone, and I’ll download the app.”
His sigh was heavy as he pulled it from his pocket and handed it over.
A few minutes later they huddled shoulder to shoulder as she led him through the new system. “I’ve added the family members as admins, and I’ve put in phone numbers for the entire staff.” She gave him a tutorial, reminding herself this was work. His presence, his scent, his body touching hers as they sat was not personal. Not exciting. Not in the least. “Everyone will know when a new guest is checking in and scheduled to leave.” She tapped on the calendar to show him the bookings. Several weeks were already blacked out, which meant there were no vacancies. “You’ve seen the stats, but here’s the daily calendar. It’s very useful.”
With that, he turned a smoky gaze on her, and it dropped to her mouth. “I was wrong.”
Not what she expected. “Um, about what?” Wrong to trust her? Wrong to bring over dinner? Wrong not to kiss her? Wrong about what? WHAT?
“The changes you’re making are really good for the resort.” His look shifted to Ben, whose eyelids had grown heavy with sleep. “And you’ve been good for my son. Thank you.”
“I don’t deserve credit.” She nodded in Ben’s direction. “He does.” Ben’s eyes slid shut as he dozed.
Trace let out a hollow chuckle. “Trust me when I say, not everyone has parental instincts. You’ve been great with him.”
She could not take credit for being great with his kid. Not while she was hiding the truth from both of them. “I want to show you something.” She got up and found the color-coded list Ben had made for her about the ducks. “He did this for me because I can’t tell them apart. But he can. Without the bands. Without a chart. Without any help from anyone.” She glanced in Ben’s direction. “He’s extremely intelligent. Observant in a way that blows my mind.”
Trace’s eyes glistened at her when he looked up from the chart. “Not everyone sees that.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe it’s easier for me to see because I’ve been lucky enough to find something in common with him.” She squeezed Trace’s hand. “Come with me.” She quietly retrieved a flashlight from the closet and led Trace outside. When they were behind the cottage, she shined the light on the pen. “Did you know your son built that? All by himself . . . with supplies he found in the boathouse.”
“No, I didn’t.” Trace’s shoulders sagged. “I feel like I’ve failed him.”
She put a hand on his upper arm, and a thick muscle flexed. “Failed him?”
“I’ve ignored him lately because of work. His science project slipped my mind, and that makes me just like his mother.”
“I don’t know what the deal is with Ben’s mom, but it’s your turn to trust what I’m saying.” Lily closed the space between them. “Not everyone devotes as much time and attention to their child as you. He’s an incredible kid. I’m no expert, but I doubt that happens by accident.”
Her heart punched against her chest.
Her father was in prison. Her mother drank to avoid reality. Together they’d produced a person willing to keep the truth from everyone.
Trace reached out and put a hand on her hip.
Heat rushed from his fingertips, up through her center, and hardened her nipples. God, but she wanted him to kiss her. She absolutely couldn’t lie about that any longer.
He hesitated like he was torn, then pulled her into his arms.
“Trace-”
His finger covered her lips. “Shh.” He caressed her lip with his calloused finger, sending a shock wave of desire rioting through her. “Don’t say anything, or I’ll change my mind.” His hand slid around to the back of her head and pulled her mouth to his. He grazed his lips gently across hers, then went in for more. His other hand settled on the small of her back just firmly enough to hold her in place.
She should step away. End the insanity before she made a terrible mistake. For the second time in her life.
Her feet didn’t move. Instead, her lips parted, and his tongue found hers. Soft yet unyielding, it coaxed a moan from her.
His grip tightened, and he pulled her flush against him. And oh, the hardness pressing into her belly was impressive and frightening at the same time because this was a man she shouldn’t want.
His strong arms closed around her, and she melted into him with a soft sigh of pleasure. Her hand coasted up his back. His firm, muscular back. Her arms encircled him, pulling him into a red-hot openmouthed kiss that rocked her world. It must’ve knocked his world off balance too, because he did a little moaning of his own.
A branch snapped somewhere near them, and all six-feet-plus of him went rigid. He broke the kiss, and they stilled. Except for the pounding of their hearts. Their quickened breaths swirled a thin mist of fog around them as Trace stared over her head into the darkness.
She leaned her cheek against his chest and listened. Finally, Trace’s fingertips moved against the back of her head to gently caress her hair.
“Probably a raccoon,” he said.
She looked up at him, and he let his nose skim hers. Let his mouth linger just a hair above her lips.
His fingers moved to her throat, and he caressed the sensitive skin with small circles.
Another tremor of need slid through her.
“My situation with Ben is complicated.”
She understood complicated far better than Trace could imagine.
“But I had to do that just once.” His voice was full of disappointment.
“Just once,” she repeated.
He nodded. “I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep since you got here because I lie awake every night wondering what you taste like.” He ran the back of one finger down her cheek.
The roughness of his fingertip against her skin made her quiver, and her nipples shouted for her to demand that he do her against the tree. Her common sense told her he was spot-on, and one kiss would have to be enough. “Now maybe we can both sleep better,” she said. “Because I think about you too.”
“You’re an amazing woman, Lily. It’s so damn hard to be around you and not kiss you. Not touch you.” The pad of his thumb brushed across her bottom lip. “But . . .”
He drew that one word out in a way that arrowed straight to her pounding heart, making it flatline.
“This isn’t fair to you. Ben needs all my time and attention,” Trace breathed out.
He was right, and the rejection shouldn’t hurt. But it did.
His thumb swept over her mouth again. Her lips parted to tell him it was okay. She understood. She agreed. But the words didn’t come.
She had to hand it to her father. He’d always told her everything that came before the but was total bullshit.
And he’d been right.