Chapter Fifteen
The Saturday sun was high, but it wasn’t anywhere close to being Florida warm out on the tarmac at the private Paisley Airfield. Everly couldn’t wait to get down there and peel off the sweater she’d tugged on this morning to fight the blast of frigid air announcing winter was near. She was a woman made for the tropics—at least according to her heating bill, which had arrived today and told her by adding in one too many numbers in front of the decimal point that she needed to learn to love wooly socks and blankets more than turning up her thermostat.
Tyler stood by Alberto’s jet. He wore a long-sleeve gray Henley, jeans, and a scowl as if he were impervious to the cold. He probably was. The fact that she hadn’t seen him since she’d lost her sanity in the parking garage had her discombobulated. It wasn’t a feeling she was used to but was all too common around Mr. 2B. Not that she really thought of him like that anymore. No, she spent way too much time over the past few days imagining him naked for that.
He must have felt the heft of her gaze because he turned and stared at her. Suddenly, it wasn’t so cold out on the tarmac anymore. Heat curled in her stomach and places lower—exactly what she didn’t need. Her visit to Nunni had brought back all the memories of nights spent hoping that somehow, someday she’d be good enough for her dad to want her in his life. He never had, and she’d promised herself that she’d never pin her hopes on a man looking to climb the social ladder instead of finding what he needed in the people he already had. Tyler may not be exactly that kind of man, but there was no denying his determination to be a part of the world she could only ever be on the periphery of. The fact that the realization had hit at the very inopportune time of being right after one of the best orgasms of her life stung almost as much as the frigid blast of wind that blew back her hair.
“Tesoro,” Alberto said as he stopped beside her near the nose of the jet. “There’s been a slight change in plans.”
That was the story of her life lately.
“Do we need to reschedule? It’s no problem.” Probably it was for the best. Maybe by then she’d have time to get this attraction to Tyler under control.
“Oh, there’s no need for anything that drastic. I just need a favor.”
She looked at Alberto in his wool sweater with his silver hair dancing in the wind. He didn’t seem to be enjoying the early arctic blast any more than she was.
“Of course, anything.” And she meant it. He’d done so much to help her career after they’d met in Italy, how could she not? But it was more than that. Alberto had become family, the kind a girl like her tended to adopt and keep close out of loyalty and love.
“There was a scheduling mishap and I need you to go ahead to Key West with Tyler. The house is all ready for you and you can start on your valuations right away.” His gaze drifted over to where Helene stood in her cream full-length coat, the wind not daring to move even a strand of her perfectly coiffed hair. “Helene and I will meet you there later.”
Her and Tyler? Alone? On an island? Her pulse sped up, whether because of panic or excitement didn’t matter. Either way, Alberto’s plan did not sound like the way to clear her head—and her body—of whatever was drawing her to him.
“We should wait until we can all go together.”
“You misunderstand, tesoro, this mishap was, how do they say it, accidentally on purpose.” Alberto ran his fingers through his mussed hair and gave her a sheepish grin. “Helene and I would like a chance to get to know each other a little better when it’s just us.”
“Oh,” she said, understanding dawning.
Alberto had been running his A flirting game with Helene, and while the other woman hadn’t been returning the attention at the same level, she hadn’t been shutting him down like she was known to do without a second thought. While Everly’s love life, or lack of one, was for the best, she wasn’t about to ruin the start of something between two people who would in a weird way be perfect for each other. For as outgoing and enthusiastic as Alberto was, he had a solid, dependable core and was loyal down to his custom-made Italian loafers. And Helene? She’d had a rough time of it since her husband had died and maybe it was time for her to remember how to enjoy life for herself again. If helping them get there meant spending a little alone time with the man she thought of way more than was good for her sanity? Well, she could do that. It was all part of being there for those you love.
“Tyler and I will be able to manage on our own for sure.”
He took her by the shoulders and planted a kiss on each cheek. “Grazie, tesoro.”
Alberto hurried off to Tyler, no doubt to explain the change in plans, and she followed a few steps behind, giving herself a pep talk with each foot forward that she could do this. She could keep her hands—and her lips—to herself. It was the smart thing to do because she wasn’t about to make the same mistakes her mother had.
…
Tyler stepped off the plane into the slap-you-in-the-face heat of South Florida. The flight to Key West was as silent as it was uneventful. Everly had read a book on some Flemish artist on one side of the aisle while Tyler had pretended to play solitaire on the table in front of his seat while in reality he spent the four-hour flight watching her. The way she twisted a lock of hair around her finger as she read. The way her body had tensed when the jet went through turbulence. The way she ignored the hell out of him as if he wasn’t even there.
After bingo night, he’d thought they’d gotten past the push and pull, one step forward and two steps back of their what…friendship? That wasn’t what he wanted from her. What did he want after that mind-blowing bout of fucking? Hell if he knew, he just wanted more whenever he was around her. Calling it distracting was an understatement. It was like sitting too close to the fireplace while wearing a parka but not being able to move away.
The cab was waiting for them just outside the airport with the Welcome to the Conch Republic sign meeting its arrivals. Without any bags beyond their carry-ons, they went straight to it. Still not speaking. This quiet wasn’t like Everly, and it was starting to drive him nuts.
She’d no more than closed the door on her side of the cab when he turned to her. “Is the silent treatment your game plan for the entire weekend?”
She stiffened but turned to face him, the smile on her face the one she used for clients at her gallery, not the real one she’d been wearing during bingo. He fucking hated that smile.
“I wasn’t aware I was being too quiet for your tastes,” she said, her voice even. “What would you like to discuss?”
“How about what happened the other night?” The quiet words popped out before he could stuff them back into the do-not-talk-about-even-under-extreme-duress box in a dark corner of his brain. Shit. He might as well turn in his man card. What was next, asking her intentions?
Her chin went up a few degrees, but she didn’t fluster. “That’s best forgotten.”
“Look, folks,” the cabbie said, turning around in the front seat to eyeball them both. “While whatever happened the other night, I’m sure, was a doozy, why don’t you tell me where you need to be going before I remember all eight thousand and forty-two reasons why I divorced my wife and moved here?”
Frustration marching through him like ants on their way to a picnic, Tyler took a deep breath and forced his voice to sound calm. “The Hemingway Marina.”
“All righty, then,” the cabbie said. “Now you two can go back to your fighting.”
“We aren’t fighting,” they both grumbled at the same time.
The cabbie scoffed. “That’s what my wife always used to say, too.”
The cab pulled out of the airport, driving along a single-lane highway that gave a breathtaking view of the ocean. The muscles in his shoulders ached from tension, his palms were clammy, and the urge to keep pushing Everly, to make her say what she wanted, continued to build inside him. This wasn’t how he should react to this situation. He’d always been excellent at stilling his emotions—a useful skill to have in a volatile house growing up—but it was one that always seemed to disappear around her. He became rash. Their little war over the parking spot, the kisses, stripping her down and fucking her until they were both senseless in the parking garage, were all symptoms of a far worse disease—that of falling into his parents’ bad habits. Maybe, in this instance, silence really was the better part of valor.
And that’s how he kept his mouth shut despite every instinct in his body being ready for a verbal throw down as the cab puttered its way through the tourist-lined streets to the marina where the private charter was waiting for them just as Alberto had promised.
Captain Hank was in board shorts, a bright yellow T-shirt with stay weird printed onto it, and a captain’s hat that covered his suntanned-to-a-nice-level-of-leather bald head. Tyler offered to take Everly’s bag aboard, but she declined with as few words as possible. He was half-tempted to kiss a few extra ones out of her, but even in his current condition he knew she’d be more likely to impale him with her stiletto in a very strong but vulnerable place than open her mouth and let him in. So he gave her her space during the short boat ride to Treble Key, which, according to the information he’d gotten out of Alberto, was a six-acre island, two of which were submerged, with a large solar-powered house sitting right in the middle. A four-wheeler would be waiting for them at the dock, and they’d use that to trek two miles inward to the house. It couldn’t be any easier, and the amount of cold coming off Everly would negate any need for air-conditioning during the trip.
When the captain pulled up to the dock, though, there wasn’t a four-wheeler waiting. There wasn’t even much of a dock. It was more like a set of weather-worn boards haphazardly put together and held in place by gravity and a prayer.
“This can’t be right,” Everly said, the dread in her tone matching his.
Captain Hank took off his hat and wiped his head with a red handkerchief bleached to a light rose by the sun. “Oh, sorry, forgot to tell you about the change. The other dock was a no-go, so I have to let you off here.”
Tyler took another look at the dilapidated dock. For a guy who hadn’t been outside of the Harbor City metro area until he was in college, this was way out of his comfort zone. Like at least three time zones out of it. Everly stepped closer to him, her fingers gripping the boat’s railing tight as she looked down at the sorry excuse for a dock.
“Will it even hold us?” she asked, looking up at the captain on her other side.
“Of course it will. Anyway, you can swim, right?” He winked at Everly and handed over an envelope to Tyler.
EVERLY AND TYLER,
SO SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE, BUT YOU’LL JUST NEED TO WALK DOWN THE PATH TO THE HOUSE. DON’T WORRY ABOUT ALFRED. HE’S CURIOUS BUT HARMLESS. JUST DON’T FEED HIM OR PET HIM. HE HASN’T BITTEN ANYONE YET, BUT I’D HATE FOR ONE OF YOU TO BE THE FIRST.
CIAO,
ALBERTO
There was nothing about this that sounded good. Tyler hated surprises; growing up where there were emotional bombshells that usually exploded and sent shrapnel everywhere on a daily basis, he had a good reason for it. He handed the note to Everly, who read it with lightning speed.
She turned to the captain, who was off-loading their bags onto the dock. “Who’s Alfred?”
“Better question is what’s Alfred,” Tyler corrected, not sure he wanted to know the answer.
Captain Hank got back on board the boat, one hand on the rope tethering it to the dock.
“He’s a Florida Keys raccoon and a complete mooch, so if you’ve got any food in your bags, you should probably leave it on the boat.” He jerked his head toward the dock. “Now, stick to the path right there among the mangroves and you’ll be at the house in a jiff. You can’t miss it.”
A few minutes later and Tyler was standing next to Everly on the dock, watching Captain Hank head back toward Key West.
“Well, let’s get this over with,” Everly said as she turned and picked her way across the dock, choosing each step with care in her high heels.
There was no way she was making it two miles in those shoes even if she wasn’t hauling a carry-on roller bag. Correction. She could make it, probably powered on pure Riverside attitude alone.
“Here,” he said, catching up with her and putting one hand on her suitcase handle. “Let me.”
Her grip tightened. “I appreciate the offer, but I can do it myself.”
She could and she would, but she didn’t have to. Telling her that was the very last thing he should do, however.
“I don’t doubt it. In fact, you could carry both the entire two miles in those ridiculous shoes when it’s a million degrees out in the shade.” He reached back and pulled out his wallet, withdrawing his lucky quarter. “How about we flip for it? Whoever loses has to take both bags.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not carrying your bag.”
“Not if you win.” There, now if that wasn’t enough of a challenge for her to react to, he didn’t know what was.
“Fine,” she huffed and set her suitcase on the ground. “Flip your grubby coin.”
“It’s not grubby. It’s well loved.” Now that didn’t sound lame at all. “Heads or tails?” Not that it mattered. It was going to land on her side regardless, as much as he could add a little spin in her favor.
She crossed her arms, the move accentuating the perfect fit of the black tank dress she’d been wearing under the sweater she’d stuffed in her oversize purse when Alberto’s jet had touched down. “Tails.”
He adjusted the angle of his thumb and flicked the quarter in the air, caught it, and flipped it over on the back of his hand. Tails. Imagine that.
“Well, someone finally got lucky.” He held out his hand. “Looks like I’ll be carrying that.”
She didn’t seem happy at winning. In fact, the suspicion in her eyes had to be visible from the space shuttle. “I’m gonna figure out how you do that.”
He shrugged. “It’s just flipping a coin.”
“And it always seems to go your way.”
“My way?” he asked, picking up both bags by the handle because there was no way the little wheels would last on the dirt path to the house. “I’m hauling both bags.”
“Which you totally didn’t mean to have happen.” She raised one eyebrow suspiciously.
He set his bag down and held up three fingers close together. “Scout’s honor.”
She shook her head, but her smile was back—the real one. “Like you were ever a Boy Scout.”
“Most popcorn sold three years running.” It had been his first taste of business, a chance to use his ability to read people and the situation for something other than staying the hell out of the way when tempers were short.
Everly threw back her head and laughed. “Now that doesn’t surprise me at all.”
The tension seeped out of his shoulders, and they headed inland together.