LILY’S LIFE LESSON #13
Saying goodbye is easy. It’s the walking-away part that hurts.
Trace crumpled the legal papers in his hands. The noise of the Fallen Angel’s busy weekend crowd faded into the distance, even though patrons stood shoulder to shoulder in the bar.
A warm hand closed around his upper arm and squeezed. “Trace.” A soft, comforting voice pierced the fog of silence that engulfed him.
He looked to his right, blinking Lily into focus. “I can’t . . .” He rubbed the corners of his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “I’ve got to go.” He had to get out of there and talk to Megan. Ask her why she was doing this to their son because they both knew she didn’t really want custody of Ben. “You’ve got a ride with Charley?”
She nodded. “Don’t worry about me.”
The concern creasing the soft skin between her brows made him want to take her in his arms. The kindness glinting in her eyes made him want to take her to his bed.
The way she’d melted into his arms in the storage room, the way her body quivered and heated everywhere he’d touched had only whetted his appetite.
But was it fair to pursue Lily with Megan throwing shade his way? Was it right for him to take one second of his attention off Ben while Megan was making threats?
Trace glanced down at the wadded paper in his hand. None of it was fair or right, but it had landed squarely in his hands nonetheless.
“Thanks. I’ll—” He couldn’t think. “We’ll talk later.”
He blazed a trail through the thick crowd and found his brothers sitting at the bar. “Let’s go.” His expression and his tone were enough for his brothers to know he was serious.
Elliott tossed a few bills on the counter, and Spence pulled jingling keys out of his pocket. They were in the Jeep in less than a minute. Spence fired up the engine, did a quick U-turn on Marina Boulevard, and headed home.
Trace told them everything.
“Man,” Spence said. “If I’d known why the kid was looking for you, I would’ve tossed him out of the bar.”
Trace propped an elbow on the passenger door and tapped a fist against his mouth. “He’d have found me someplace else.”
“What happens now?” Elliott asked.
Trace wished he knew. He was tired. So damned tired that his bones ached. He let his head fall back on the headrest and stared straight ahead, only the Jeep’s dual streams of light illuminating the way home. “First, I’m going to get Megan on the phone and ask her what the hell she’s thinking. If she had custody of Ben, her interest would last about ten minutes.” No way in hell would he allow her to take their son away only to dump him on a stranger. Trace didn’t care if the special-ed-teacher-nanny Megan planned to hire had a wall full of credentials; no stranger was taking care of his son.
“This is fucked up.” The dash lights weren’t bright enough to show Spence’s expression, but his tone said he was pissed.
“What about Lily?” Elliott asked.
Trace tensed. “What about her?” He’d been wondering the same thing ever since the hipster kid, who was dressed like he probably skateboarded all the way from Los Angeles, had shoved the papers into Trace’s chest.
“You two weren’t in the storage room looking for pretzels,” Spence said.
“First time I’ve seen a woman turn your head since you became a single dad.” Elliott reached through the seats and bumped the edge of his fist against Trace’s shoulder. “It’d be a cryin’-ass shame to let Megan screw it up for you.”
Trace blew out his cheeks. “I don’t know.” He said it more to himself. Before he could figure out his relationship with Lily, he had to deal with Megan.
Spence slowed and turned into the resort.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” The Jeep had barely rolled to a stop in front of Trace’s cottage when his feet hit the ground. As the Jeep rumbled away and he had privacy, Trace pulled out his phone and dialed Megan’s number. He climbed the steps and got her voice mail without the phone ringing once.
He growled.
He unlocked the door and flicked on a light. Then he sent Megan a text telling her she might as well answer, or he would call her cell and her landline every ten minutes for the rest of the night. If that didn’t work, he’d fly to LA and do the same with her doorbell.
He knew how much she hated losing precious sleep. He’d certainly spent plenty of nights getting up with Ben because she wouldn’t.
He dialed up her number again, and she answered on the second ring.
“What, Trace?” she snapped.
“Are you seriously going to use Ben like a circus animal to help your career? Because that’s low, even for you,” he snapped back. He couldn’t help it; this was about their son.
“You gave me no choice!” Megan insisted. “If you’d at least considered letting Ben come stay with me over the summer, I wouldn’t have had to take such drastic measures. This one’s on you. Not me.”
“According to the articles I’ve read in the news about your busy career, you won’t be available over the summer,” he said through clenched teeth. “You’ll be on set. So how will you spend time with Ben?”
She went quiet.
“That’s the plan, isn’t it?” He let out a bitter laugh. “You won’t have any time to spend with him. That’s the whole reason you actually want custody after all these years.”
“I want my son with me,” she argued.
“Because of what he can do for your career.” He let his head hang forward as he paced. “Not because you care about him.”
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
That was rich, coming from a woman who penciled in visits with her son twice each year and managed to miss most of them. “He’s an eight-year-old boy. Don’t put him through this. Drop the custody suit.” No way in hell would he let her take their son only to dump him on someone else. A little reminder of how she didn’t actually like to be around their son was long overdue. “Come to the island next week. If all goes well, I’ll bring him to visit you a few times over the summer.”
She stayed silent like she was considering his proposal.
“If it goes really well, I’ll bring him to visit while you’re working.” He sweetened the offer, knowing his ex would focus on the on-set publicity opportunity instead of the needs of their child. He just needed to get Megan to the island, and she’d screw the rest up on her own.
She always did.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll be there. But I’m not dropping the custody suit yet. Not unless we can come up with an arrangement that’s acceptable for me.”
Megan ending that last sentence with the word me was typical since it was her favorite subject.
Still, he could be polite if it meant ending her custody nonsense without a fight and saving Ben any unnecessary emotional damage. “What day should I expect you?”
“I don’t know yet,” she clipped out.
Her no-show rate was pretty high, which was why he never told Ben when she planned to visit.
“I’ll be in touch,” she said, and the line went dead.
Why did that not surprise Trace in the least?
Lily said goodnight when Charley dropped her off in front of her cottage. Her lips still burned from Trace’s kiss. Her girl parts hadn’t cooled off either, but she couldn’t let Trace be the one to put out the flames.
Her job at the Remington was off and running. She couldn’t risk the promising new start she had by getting involved with Trace.
With the porch light on, she dug her keys from her purse.
Maybe she should walk down to his cottage and knock on the door. Obviously, they needed to have a heart-to-heart about boundaries. Boundaries would save them both a lot of trouble. So yes, she should go talk to him. As soon as she figured out how not to catapult right over those boundaries and shrink-wrap around him.
She let herself in and flung her purse and keys onto the counter.
Trace’s exquisite tongue, his clever hands, and the large-and-in-charge package he’d pressed between her legs in the Fallen Angel’s storage room would be difficult to walk away from now that she’d gotten a small sample.
Good Lord, if he could get her that worked up fully clothed, it would likely be mind-altering if they were naked.
A shudder of lust quaked through her, and she tried to shake off the thrill of anticipation.
When her entire body broke out in a sweat, she opened the fridge, letting the cold air work its magic.
Did no good.
She slammed the fridge and went to the front door. It was late, but she had to talk to Trace and set things straight for both of them. Maybe ask him to be the strong one even if she couldn’t be because fraternization between employers and employees wasn’t good for either of them.
With a hand on the knob, she drew in a deep breath and opened the door before she lost her nerve.
The butterflies in her stomach turned to hornets when she caught a glimpse of the gorgeous man sitting on her front porch, his back against a post and one leg slung over the side.
“Trace.” She stepped outside and closed the door.
“I heard Charley drive past my place, so I knew you were home.”
Lily closed the front of her jacket and hugged herself against the night chill that hung in the air. “And you figured you’d sit on my porch instead of knocking?”
He chuckled. “Truth?”
She had to break eye contact on that one. “Sure.” She took a seat next to him but left enough room so they didn’t touch.
“I was trying to figure out a way not to have to say this.” He went quiet.
“I’m a big girl,” she said softy. “I can take it.”
He drew a long breath into his lungs. “I told you my situation with Ben is complicated.” Trace bent a knee and propped his arm over it. “He needs all my time and attention.”
She crossed her ankles and swung her legs back and forth. “I remember.”
“This is why.” He pulled a folded batch of papers from his jacket. He’d obviously smoothed them out after wadding them up at the bar. “Ben’s always been high maintenance because of his condition, but if his mother gets custody, it’ll crush him and any hope he has of a stable, productive life.” His voice rasped with the grief. “I can’t let that happen.”
Lily’s heart thudded.
“My ex-wife already has ammunition she can use against me.” Trace stuffed the papers back in his pocket, a muscle in his jaw twitching.
Once upon a time, Lily’s father had cared about her the way Trace cared about Ben. She missed it and could never fault Trace for loving his son enough to do whatever was necessary to protect him. Trace’s devotion to his son was one of the things Lily admired about him most.
“You’re an incredible father. I doubt you’ve done anything bad enough for you to lose custody.”
Trace looked down and sighed heavily. Lily had to lace her fingers in her lap to keep from reaching out to comfort him.
“Before I moved back to the island, I flew private jets in Los Angeles. The job played hell with my schedule. I was always on call, never any rhyme or reason to my hours.” He stared into the darkness. “I was called out one night when my regular sitter was out of town. I called Ben’s mom.” His tone went hard. “She refused to come stay with him because she had an audition the next morning, or so she said. So I called a nanny service.”
Lily knew the story wasn’t going to end well for Ben, and a seed of anger sprouted in her chest.
“I was so worried about Ben waking up with a strange person in the house that I misread the weather report and flew right into turbulence that nearly caused us to crash.” His head thumped back against the post. “That’s the first time I’ve ever had passengers scream in terror on a flight.”
She couldn’t help but let the pain and regret behind his words seep into her chest. “I’m so sorry.”
He let out a sarcastic chuckle. “I wish that were the end of the story.” He closed his eyes for a beat. “Ben did wake up, had a complete meltdown when he didn’t know the nanny, and she . . .” The grinding of his teeth was audible. “To calm him down, she gave him a tranquilizer that was prescribed to her.”
Lily’s intake of air was sharp. She closed her hand over his. “That bitch.”
A husky laugh escaped through his lips. “I quit my job the next day and moved back to the island.”
Lily’s heart tumbled end over end.
She squeezed his hand again. “Ben’s such a good kid. He deserves the life you’re building for him here.” She tried to pull her hand from Trace’s, but he didn’t let go. “It’s for the best we keep it professional . . . and friendly.” She was so full of it. She wanted him now more than ever. “I made the mistake of getting involved with my boss once.” She breathed deep. “It didn’t end well for me. He used it against me. I worked my heart out for that company and threw it all away because I trusted a person who had power over my career. I would be foolish to go down that road again.” She caressed her thumb across his calloused hand. “Even if you’re nothing like him.”
“Give me a name, and you can consider his ass kicked,” Trace said.
She laughed. “Thank you, but it’s not necessary.”
“He was a fool.” Trace reached out and gently molded his fingers to her neck. “You’re everything I want in a woman.” He let his gaze roam over her face, the moonlight glinting off his eyes. “You’re wonderful with Ben.” Trace let the calloused pad of his thumb sweep over her bottom lip, sending a delicious shiver racing through her. “I’m the problem, not you. I have to keep all my attention on my son, and that’s not fair to you, Lily.” His thumb traveled across her lips again. “You deserve better than playing second string.” He took her hand and placed a sweet kiss on the inside of her wrist. “If circumstances were different . . .” The next kiss to her wrist was a nip.
Every cell in her body went up in flames.
“But they’re not,” she whispered. “And this can’t be. No matter how much we might want it.” Gently, she pulled her hand away.
He stared at her mouth for a long, long time. The regret, the sorrow, the turmoil in his expression said he alone was responsible for the wall that kept them apart.
Lily couldn’t let him believe that . . . because it wasn’t true. So she took a deep breath and went for honest. “I’ve made mistakes.” Like trying to start over with a new name. “I’m not great girlfriend material.” Even though she wanted to be. “You don’t know me very well . . . but, um, you see, before I moved here . . . I . . .”
Her phone blared to life from inside the cottage, belting out the song that reminded her of her Cajun roots and the painful mess in her past that had brought her to the island in the first place. She swallowed, blinking back to the present.
“You should get that.” He stood. “It might be important if someone’s calling you this late.” He backed away, his eyes never leaving hers. “Goodbye, Lily.”
Those words stopped time. Lily couldn’t move as she watched him turn and recede into the darkness.
She went inside and answered the phone. For once, her mother’s slurred self-pity rant seemed like a blessing. It was the only thing keeping Lily from marching over to Trace’s cottage and kissing him silly. Then telling him everything.