LILY’S LIFE LESSON #18
Purple is the new orange.
Late Friday morning, Lily hustled to set up tables and chairs under the covered activities area before Ben’s class arrived for a field trip. That was how Lily had enticed Ben’s teacher not only to help develop the summer children’s program but also to be in charge of it as a summer employee at the resort.
Lily was late getting everything ready. Starting her workday late was becoming a habit because of the covert bedroom games she and Trace played every morning after Ben left for school.
She stilled, holding a folding chair in her hands, and stared into the overcast sky. Getting involved with her employer was a big risk. Risks of that nature hadn’t worked out so well for her in the past. But Trace was genuine. His devotion to his son and his family was proof that he had integrity and cared about others more than himself. It was still a risk, but maybe this time she’d chosen wisely.
And he definitely made her moan louder than her masseuse, so technically, she was only breaking half of life lesson number one—never date a man who can’t make you moan louder than your masseuse can.
Unfortunately, this time Lily was the one with weak spots in her integrity. Both times her conscience had prodded her to tell Trace the whole truth, they’d been interrupted. Her mom’s impeccable timing had stopped her on the front porch of her cottage the night they’d almost had storage-room sex. Trace’s joke about firing her when she was wearing nothing but a towel had thrown up the second roadblock.
Just in case he did hold the truth against her, she didn’t want to leave her job until her obligations to the resort, to the Remingtons, and to the businesses she’d made bartering agreements with were fulfilled. If she didn’t stay around long enough to lend those businesses her expertise, they might pull the plug on their agreement with the Remington.
So she’d slipped in little nuggets about her pre–Angel Fire Falls life when she and Trace spent time together, but she’d shared little else.
To make matters worse, her work ethic was slipping. She’d never been late to work a day in her life. This morning’s massage with heated oil and then their subsequent long, hot shower for two to wash it off had been too tempting. Her fingertips were still wrinkled from the amount of time they’d spent under the steamy water.
Meow.
The folding chair slipped through her fingers and clattered against the concrete floor. The loud sound jarred her back to the present, and she hurried to finish setting up.
“Need help, Lily?”
She whirled to find Elliott walking toward her. She’d been so intent on her mission and her waning job performance—and the massage and the shower for two—that she hadn’t heard him approach.
She took several deep breaths to calm her racing heart. “Yes. Please help me.” She pointed to several more tables that were stacked to the side. “Line those up in rows and put six chairs around each. We’re giving the children’s summer program a trial run this morning on Ben’s class. I thought this would be a good place to serve them lunch after they do a nature walk along the hiking trails. Ben’s teacher has a craft planned too, so this spot is perfect.”
Elliott followed her instructions and set up tables and chairs. “Where’s Trace?”
She busied herself even more. “Um, no idea. How would I know?”
“Because he spends more time at your place than his own?” Elliott said.
She moved at warp speed, covering the tables with butcher paper. “Ben spends a lot of time with the ducks. It’s his science project.”
Elliott unfolded another table. “I don’t think Trace’s constant whistling and good mood is caused by Ben’s science project.”
Obviously, their bedroom games weren’t as covert as Lily thought.
“He’s picking up new guests on the Cape.” She used disinfectant to wipe down the chairs.
“Ah.” Elliott pulled out his phone. “Let me check to see when they’ll be back so I can meet them at the dock to help with luggage.” Of all the Remingtons, Elliott’s aggressive business personality had embraced the changes at the resort the fastest. He tapped on the screen.
She was glad someone was utilizing the app she’d been so hell-bent on implementing because she certainly hadn’t checked the bookings lately. Between massage oil and showers and the late morning arrivals to work, she couldn’t suck much more as a hospitality manager if she tried.
“Two new couples are coming in for the weekend.” Elliott swiped across the screen a few times like he was studying the reservations calendar. He frowned. “Remember that Parker guy Trace didn’t like?”
She stopped wiping a table and straightened. “Yes.” She drew out the word, dreading whatever was coming next.
“He’s booked a room week after next,” Elliott said.
Not all that strange if Parker was an undercover reporter sniffing around for a story. She put on a brave face and smiled. “Maybe he’s just that impressed by the Remington.”
And snowballs existed in hell. Because if Lily believed her own pep talk, uncertainty wouldn’t be winding around her stomach and cinching it tightly enough that she’d want to toss the warm doughnut she’d eaten for breakfast.
With measured, mechanical movements, Lily set down the cleaning rag and bottle of disinfectant and pulled her phone from her hiking pants. Pants she’d never have worn as Scarlett Devereaux. But as Lily Barns, they’d grown comfortable, just like her life at the Remington. A life she was going to have to put on the line soon by telling Trace about her past.
If Ronald Parker didn’t screw her over first.
She refocused on her phone and pulled up the app. And yep. She’d totally missed Mr. Ronald Parker’s name on the reservations list, even though the system had flagged him. Obviously, Trace had missed it too, or he likely would’ve mentioned it.
Something niggled at the back of Lily’s mind. Try as she might, she couldn’t ignore it. It was the clickity-clack of guilt against her conscience. The rap-tap-tap of remorse against her soul. The tick-tock of her inner clock that was running out, because Karma was coming for her.
That witch.
Except Lily had no one to blame but herself. When she left NOLA, she’d thought starting over with a new name sounded like an exciting adventure.
Now she thought it sounded about as smart as, say, moving across the country to work for a boss who could pass for a Mr. July centerfold pinup, then showing up the first day on the job riding a tricycle and carting a flock of ducks.
A yellow school bus turned into the Remington and rumbled down the long drive.
“I’ll show ’em where to park, then I’ve got more vendors to yell at.” Elliott winked. “I mean reason with. I’ll be in my office if you need help.” He started toward the lane but stopped. “By the way, I’m processing payroll. I noticed you still haven’t cashed your paycheck.”
She was still rationing the cash she’d brought with her from New Orleans. “Um, I’ve been so busy.” She gave him the brightest smile she could muster. “I’ll get to it.” As soon as she figured out how to cash a paycheck written to Lily Barns using an ID for Scarlett Devereaux.
At the rate she was going, she might end up in the cell next to her father. Which would suck, because she looked terrible in orange.
She laughed out loud, only to clamp a hand over her mouth. Because hell, she was back to either laughing or crying, just like that first day on the island when she’d tried to pedal her way to a new life on a giant tricycle.
She started toward the parking lot where Elliott had directed the bus. Purple was more her color. Maybe purple could be the new orange so at least she’d look good behind bars.
Before Ben was born, Trace had maneuvered through some of the most terrifying weather conditions a pilot could face. He’d landed temperamental billionaires on airstrips the size of a yardstick. He’d flown the rich and famous to movie shoots in war-torn countries where the chances of his plane returning to Los Angeles riddled with bullet holes was almost a given.
But damned if showing up at the resort with his ex-wife where Lily would be hard at work wasn’t about to bring on his first panic attack.
Imagine his surprise when he was loading up the new guests at the Cape Celeste commuter airport and a call came in from Megan informing him she’d just landed and needed a lift. He’d had half a mind to tell her he’d already left the ground and she’d need to take the ferry. Megan got a bad case of motion sickness on boats and small planes. A little nausea might serve her right, but his goal was to kill her with kindness no matter how nasty she got and let her screw the visit up on her own.
Could he help it if they’d hit some wicked pockets of turbulence while crossing the channel? Or if the landing was much bumpier than normal?
Trace flipped his headset off and hopped out of his plane as soon as Elliott had it tied to the dock.
“Why so late?” Elliott asked as he opened the door for the passengers. The color drained from his face as the new and improved Megan, who’d apparently been through an image makeover, stepped into the doorway. She held a perfectly wrapped gift, and instead of her usual runway-model clothing, she was dressed in a conservative suit like she was going to church on a Sunday morning. The only thing missing were little white gloves and a matching hat. Never mind that her pale-yellow jacket and skirt clashed horribly with the pale-green color of her face.
Trace gave his brother a bland stare. “Look who I found.”
“Megan,” Elliott said, his tone blasé. “So nice to see you.”
“Oh, cut the crap, Elliott.” Megan covered her mouth and swallowed like she was trying to hold back the effects the bumpy ride had had on her stomach. “I know you never liked me.” She marched down the airplane steps and started toward the path that led to the lodge without waiting for Trace.
“Can you take care of the guests?” Trace asked Elliott through clenched teeth. “They’ve paid good money to stay here. It would be so unfair for them to have to spend another minute with her.”
“Of course.” Elliott stepped up to the passenger door.
“Where’s Lily? I’ve been trying to get ahold of her to warn her,” Trace said.
A middle-aged woman appeared in the doorway of the plane, so Elliott dropped his voice. “She’s had her hands full with Ben’s class. They’re here for a field trip.” Elliott held out his hand to the guest and guided her down the steps.
Field trip? At the resort? Neither she nor Ben had mentioned it to Trace. Of course, Ben had been preoccupied with the ducks, who were growing feathers and getting bigger. And louder. And Trace had kept Lily preoccupied with, well . . . just being loud.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, because this was about to get very awkward.
He started up the path, lengthening his strides to catch up with the clicking of Megan’s kitten heels against the path. Really, who wore clothes like that to a vacation island?
A twinge in his chest made his breath hitch.
Lily’s clothing had been out of place when he first ran into her at the masseuse station. Very different than what she’d been wearing when he found her on the road that first day. Since then, her wardrobe had vacillated back and forth, almost like she was two different people. He knew there were things she hadn’t told him. Things that were probably too painful to talk about. He’d made some progress and peeled back a few of her layers. The rest of the layers could come off when she was ready.
He shook it off. He was a guy, so what did he know about women’s fashion anyway. He preferred to focus on what was underneath Lily’s clothes.
Before he caught up to Megan, she stopped and turned around. “Where’s Ben?”
Trace ground his teeth into dust. “I just got here too. I’ll have to find him.”
“He doesn’t have a phone so we can keep track of him?”
“He’s eight and is rarely out of my sight unless I know exactly where he is and who he’s with. And I don’t want him getting addicted to a phone and all the bad things it can open him up to.” Trace glanced at his watch. “It’s twelve thirty. On a Friday.” He brushed past her, and she hurried to keep up.
“So? What’s that got to do with anything?”
Trace’s jaw went on lockdown. The click, click, click of her inappropriate heels was almost as annoying as her disregard for showing up unannounced in the middle of Ben’s school day. “It’s got to do with the fact that he’d normally be in school.”
“Oh,” Megan whispered, clicking along behind him.
“But lucky for you”—because the situation didn’t feel especially lucky for Trace—“his class might be here at the resort on a field trip.” Trace veered to the right and took the path around the main lodge.
“Might be here?” Megan said it like she’d caught him making a mistake.
Trace came to an abrupt halt, and Megan nearly collided with his back. “For God’s sake, Megan. Stop. Just stop. This isn’t a war.” If it was, he’d won the second she’d signed over full custody. He just hoped his new battle strategy would get her to surrender before the new war she’d declared broke out for real. “You’re here. Let’s make it a pleasant experience for Ben.”
Her lips pinched. Which was much better than the constant whining he’d been subjected to since the minute he picked her up on the Cape. So he led her around the lodge in blissful silence.
Until they rounded the corner to find twenty or so second graders chattering with so much excitement they might as well have been jacked up on espresso. They were on the far side of the circular entrance, sitting at tables under the covered portico. Lily, Ben’s teacher, and all the kids were covered in what looked like paint. There were a lot of bright colors to splash around, but the blue matched Miss Etheridge’s blue-tipped hair perfectly. And the best part was, Lily and the teacher were letting the kids smear the paint onto large white sheets with their . . . fingers.
It took amazing willpower to hold back the smile Trace felt from the top of his head, where his aviators sat, all the way to his suede hiking boots. Because Megan didn’t do noisy kids or finger paint. And she especially didn’t do them at the same time.
Guess this wouldn’t be her day.
He didn’t know whether to give Lily a raise or kiss the hell out of her.
When Lily saw him walking toward the group, she waved, and her entire countenance brightened. Then she went back to helping the kids. She laughed when Ben walked over and dabbed her nose with yellow paint as radiant as a sunflower in full bloom. She dabbed Ben’s right back, and they both belly-laughed.
He stopped just before he reached the cement slab and watched.
Megan took up a spot next to him, stiff as a board, impatience pouring off her in waves.
Miss Etheridge bounced over. “Hi, Mr. Remington. Thanks for letting us do this field trip on such short notice.”
News to him, but sure. “Anytime. Looks like the kids are having fun.”
“We hiked some of the trails, and now they’re painting something from the natural landscape,” Miss Etheridge said. “It was Lily’s idea.”
Of course it was. Every good idea at the resort belonged to Lily.
“Lily and I came up with some great summer activities.” Miss Etheridge had a blue glob of paint across her shirt. “I’m so excited to be the Remington’s kids’ camp director over the summer.”
Another surprise, but he put on a smile because recruiting Ben’s teacher to work at the Remington was damn smart. Plus, Miss Etheridge was being friendly, so hiring her seemed to have earned a few brownie points. Something Trace hadn’t been able to do the entire school year, try as he might. Lily was getting both a raise and a kiss. “Glad to have you on board.”
He glanced at Lily across the covered area. She was helping other kids like a pro. It didn’t seem at all like a chore. She was obviously having fun by the way she smiled at the kids, laughed with them, and ruffled their hair or patted their shoulders.
Ben’s back was to them, and he still hadn’t noticed his mom’s arrival.
“Lily was thinking I might need help once in a while since the resort is so booked up over the summer with families.” Miss Etheridge’s voice drew his attention away from the two people he’d come to care most about—Ben and Lily.
A thrill swept through him. He did care about Lily. She and Ben occupied his every thought. It wasn’t just the intimacy with Lily, although that was incredible. It was the time they spent together when they were fully clothed that encircled his heart and made it thump with happiness and contentment. For the first time in his life. The three of them seemed like a package deal now.
Like a family.
He glanced at the woman at his side. Megan couldn’t have been more different from Lily if she’d come from another planet. They’d never functioned as a family, even when they were married. And now that he’d finally found someone who seemed to really want to be a part of Ben’s life, Megan was here to try to take it all away.
Miss Etheridge kept talking, the most personable she’d been the entire school year. “Lily spoke to the third-grade teacher about working here over the summer too.” The young Miss Etheridge actually blushed like she was embarrassed. “It would give her a chance to get to know Ben before school starts. Maybe they can bond quicker and make his transition smoother than it was in second grade.”
This time Trace’s smile was warm and genuine and full of gratitude. “That’s a brilliant idea.” And he knew exactly who to thank for it. His gaze wandered back to Lily and stayed locked there even as he spoke to Ben’s teacher. “Thank you. For all you’ve done for Ben this year—”
“Ahem.” Megan’s fake throat clearing was so thick with irritation he doubted he could’ve cut it with a chainsaw.
“Miss Etheridge, this is Ben’s mom, Meg—”
“Megan Remington.”
Since when? Megan had stopped using Trace’s last name before the ink dried on their divorce papers. Using it now must’ve been another pathetic attempt to present an imaginary connection between her and Ben.
Miss Etheridge’s surprise was obvious. She didn’t know the details, only that Ben’s mom was never around for parent-teacher conferences, open houses, school plays, or classroom parties, which spoke for itself. “Nice to finally meet you.” Miss Etheridge obviously didn’t intend the insult she’d just delivered.
But Megan took it as a slight anyway and sniffed.
“You look familiar,” Miss Etheridge said, giving Megan a quizzical look.
And that’s all it took for Megan to welcome Ben’s teacher back into her good graces with a dazzling smile. “I’ve got a new television series coming out this fall.” Megan’s accent shifted from a high-pitched whine to Hollywood-chic.
Trace fought off an eye roll. “I’ll go tell Ben you’re here.” He headed to Lily first, hoping to give her a heads-up before Ben caught sight of Megan.
“Hey,” Lily said when he approached. The tender smile she gave him showed in her glittering eyes, and it slayed him on the spot.
“Hey yourself,” he said softly. He did not want to dim that beautiful smile she wore by explaining who their unexpected visitor was. He’d rather wrap her up in his arms and kiss her with so much passion that she’d go weak in the knees.
Trace stepped closer. Besides the yellow dab of paint on her nose, a splotch of purple streaked her jaw and chin. It was cute and loveable and sexy as hell. He swiped at a purple speck with his thumb, completely forgetting they weren’t alone. “You wear purple well.”
Lily’s beautiful smile disappeared, and she drew in a sharp breath.
Maybe she thought he was talking about her sexy purple lace number that drove him wild. He glanced around at the chatty second graders, then hurried to explain. “You’ve got paint on your face.” He held up his finger to show her the smudge of purple finger paint.
She let out the heavy breath she’d been holding.
“Listen, I’ve been trying to reach you.” He scratched the back of his neck.
“Sorry, I haven’t checked my phone.” She waved a hand at the crowd of kids. “They’ve kept me busy, but I think Miss Etheridge will do just fine for our summer kids’ camp director. Today was a test run.”
“So I hear.” His voice softened again. “Miss Etheridge told me you’ve recruited the third-grade teacher too. Thank you.” No one had ever gone to such lengths for Ben, and the realization of what Trace and Ben had been missing churned in his stomach and bubbled up to catch in his throat. He’d planned to do all the parenting on his own, and he could do a good job at it alone if he had to. But with Lily sharing his life, he’d be so, so much better. Because he was so much more as a man and as a person with her in his life.
Lily glanced over his shoulder. “New guests?”
“Not exactly.” He shoved both hands in his pockets and sighed. How could he explain that Lily was the kind of mom Ben deserved, and Megan was nothing more than an egg donor? The woman he’d married out of obligation because she’d been carrying his child but who’d never contributed a thing since. Yet here Megan was trying to ruin their lives, and Lily would have to take it for Ben’s sake.
He hadn’t realized until now how much Lily had come to mean to him. How much he wanted her in his future. If she still wanted him after she met Megan and the nastiness his ex could dish out. “She’s—”
Ben squealed. He jumped from his chair so fast it fell backward and skidded across the cement floor. His footsteps thundered across the concrete toward Megan, and he hollered, “Mom!”
Lily’s lips parted. “Oh,” was all she said. Her usual fearless, unflappable tone was gone, replaced by a small, wavering voice.
What he saw in her expression made his teeth grind and his heart beat against his chest. The little bit of openness he’d been able to coax out of her had just taken a hit.