Eleven
“Who you trying to impress?” Left fielder Joe “Zoo” Zooker looked from Halo to Landon. Top of the fourth inning, and both men had returned to the home dugout. Halo after a triple; followed by Land airmailing a fastball over the center field fence. “What the fuck? We’re playing a Saturday night exhibition game against local high school state champions. We agreed not to jack the score.”
Halo side-eyed him. “One out. We’re ahead by two, which we just scored. Barefoot William Hurricanes are playing hard. The guys are damn good.”
“Underdogs do win,” Land reminded Zoo.
“Not against us.” Zoo was always cocky. “So who you doing in the stands?” He went back to his original question.
“The stadium’s packed.” With both major league baseball and high school fans. Families and local supporters of the Hurricanes sat on the edge of their seats, hoping their boys fared well. Rogues fans anticipated a night out with their team, as they eyed the season ahead. “Our contest winners are here, watching. We want to make a decent showing,” said Halo.
“Bull-fuckin’-shit.” Zoo wasn’t satisfied. “Who are the babes?”
Zoo would dog them for the next five innings. He could be damn annoying. Word had spread beyond Media Day that Halo had a fiancée. He’d received countless congratulations. Most were sincere; others, merely lip service.
Those who actually knew Alyn’s identity kept it low-key. Anonymity worked for them, for now. People recognized his engagement. Accepted it. He didn’t want her fully exposed to public scrutiny. He felt protective of her.
He’d accomplished what he’d set out to do. His life had improved for the better. He’d gotten the desired results from his engagement. Women sighed when they saw him, but no longer sought him out for sex. He and Alyn had yet to make love. They kissed, held hands, touched a little, but nothing more. He was a long way from a sleepover.
“You misinterpreted my look,” Halo said to Zoo. “I nodded to Danny Jayne.”
Zoo snorted. “The boy or his sister?”
“My contest winner,” brooked no argument.
“Land’s gaze keeps straying to the Cates section, along the first base line. Shaye and Jillian are off limits, but the chick with the crazy hair has it going on. Nice boobs.”
Landon stiffened, and Halo knew why. The two men had spent an hour talking in the locker room before the rest of the team arrived. Halo hadn’t fully disclosed his relationship with Alyn; he’d skimmed over the business details. Land, however, had openly and honestly discussed Eden Cates. It appeared his best friend was taking their relationship seriously. They’d adopted dogs together. He was moving into her wedding chapel for the remainder of spring training. Which made Halo smile. He wanted his buddy happy. Eden damn sure put Landon on his game. He’d hit a home run for her.
Halo shifted the conversation. “Check out Rally Ball. Fans love him.”
Rally Ball was the team mascot. Inside the big white baseball costume with the red stitching was Charlie Bradley. Leg and armholes showcased long red-and-blue-striped sleeves and matching tights. Blue high-top Converses supported his movements. Rally had roll. He bobbed and bounced in the stands, meeting and greeting the crowd. Most mascots didn’t come to spring training. Charlie was the exception. At sixty-five, he’d aged with the franchise. A widower, he considered the Rogues family. The team paid his way to Florida.
“Rally’s talking to Danny. He’s getting his picture taken with the boy.” Land chuckled. “Danny’s trying to hug him, but can’t get his arms around the fuzz ball.”
Top of the fourth played out. Zoo’s solo shot over the second baseman’s head landed him on first. The Hurricanes’ pitcher had a gifted arm. His skills walked the next three batters back to the dugout without a hit. Zoo was left hanging.
The Rogues took the field. The leadoff batter for the Hurricanes popped the ball up. It arched toward third base, and landed in Landon’s glove. Next, a fly ball to center—captured, out two. The right fielder for the Hurricanes took his bat. Eric Madison pounded a curveball to left field. Zoo charged, dove, slid on his belly. Missed the catch. Eric ran like a roadrunner, rounding the bases, scoring their first home run.
The crowd went crazy. Halo couldn’t help himself. He stood in right and applauded Eric’s ability. The hometown boy had placed the ball perfectly, just beyond Zoo’s reach. Rylan in center joined the applause. Talent was talent, and needed to be acknowledged. Win or lose, the game wouldn’t affect their preseason standing or stats.
The next Hurricane went down on strikes. Three outs. Halo and Rylan jogged toward the dugout together. “Tell me about Madison,” Halo requested. “Dude’s got instincts.”
“He’s one hell of a player,” said Ry. “He was offered a scholarship to Florida State, but turned it down. Family obligations. His dad got busted for drugs. Jail time. Eric has twin younger brothers and a baby sister. His mom works three jobs to keep food on the table. Eric’s taken over parental responsibilities. He’s pretty much raising the kids.”
Eric’s situation unsettled Halo. He kept an eye on the high schooler the remainder of the game. The Rogues worked through their batting order. There was one out in the count when Halo stepped to the plate. He knocked a fastball thrown down in the zone over the shortstop’s head. He made it easily to first. Landon’s short drive to third forced him to slide into second. A heartbeat before the throw. He dusted himself off. Zoo wasn’t to be bested. He’d yet to make an impression. The time was now.
He went full count, three balls, two strikes, before launching a curveball toward center-right. No-man’s land. It was a toss-up which outfielder would make the catch. If one of them even could. The ball was close to clearing the wall. Close to landing in the outfield stands.
Halo watched as two young athletes tried to save the home run. Damn if Eric Madison didn’t make the play. He jet-packed at the wall, made the catch. Then had the reserve to fire the ball to the first baseman, who threw it to the catcher. Focusing on Eric, Halo and Landon were slow in crossing home plate. Landon hustled at the end. They earned two runs, with two outs.
Rylan Cates’s fluid swing slammed a cutter down the right field line. The catch elicited Eric’s skills once more. He scooped, powered the ball to first, and Ry was out, an inch off the base. Three down. Rogues went on defense. Halo grabbed Rylan’s glove off the bench, took it to him. They connected in the outfield.
“Kid can field,” said Halo.
“He’s also a clutch hitter.”
He had the knack for coming up with big hits in tight situations. “I’m impressed.”
“You should be,” said Rylan. “Given the opportunity, Eric could take your position someday.”
“Just like I inherited right from Psycho.” Psycho McMillan was legendary. No doubt the best right fielder of all time. He was front office now, vice president/general manager. Psycho kept his finger on the pulse of every player. He shook the skeletons in closets. No secrets were kept from the man.
Halo made a run at Psycho’s stats every year. Had not yet succeeded. He still had time to accomplish his goals. He wasn’t ready to hang up his jock. Not for a few years, anyway.
The game played out. The score was five to one in the middle of the ninth, when the Rogues went on final defense. Rylan had slam-dunked a homer over the left field fence moments earlier. He got a standing ovation.
A half-inning to play, and southpaw Andy Davidson was brought in to close, replacing Will Ridgeway. He played Triple-A, and was in town for daily scrimmages. The pitching coach had his eye on him. A possible candidate for the majors.
Davidson was all nerves. Halo could see him sweat from right field. Three consecutive outs should’ve wrapped up the game. Fifteen quick minutes. Instead three batters loaded the bases. Forty minutes later. No outs. What the fuck?
Eric Madison next took his bat. He made the walk from on-deck circle to home plate. Swinging his bat, then knocking dirt from his cleats, as he dug in, getting into position.
The kid had the balls to point to Halo. He was looking for a grand slam to tie the score. The crowd was on its feet. Cheering, clapping, stomping. The kid was a favorite. The noise would carry miles.
Crap, Halo thought. Should the kid launch one his way, he’d be forced to make the out. Most situations needed heroes. For some strange reason he didn’t want to be the one to steal the guy’s thunder. He kicked himself for going soft.
Eric’s previous at-bats had earned him a homer and a double. Rylan had warned him that Eric came through in the toughest times. Halo got into position. Ready, and waiting.
Intelligent and intuitive, Eric went two balls and two strikes, before he swung on a change-up, finding the sweet spot. Long, and possibly gone raced through Halo’s mind. The wind could carry the ball that extra inch, over the wall.
His competitive instincts raged deep. Winning meant everything to him. He charged the warning track. As did Rylan Cates. Halo called him off. Yet Ry kept coming. His expression was hard, intent. A collision was imminent. Unless Halo backed off the ball.
Not the World Series, he muttered to himself. His sense of sportsmanship won out. There were different kinds of heroes. This time he gave up the run to let someone else shine.
“Gone,” he hissed, when Ry was close enough to hear him.
Rylan staggered a step, and Halo jumped. High. He could’ve caught the ball. Would’ve had it, too, had he not tipped it over the wall with his glove. It landed in the stands. At the feet of a grandfather and his grandson. They were so surprised it took them a moment to scramble for the souvenir.
Halo and Rylan both bent over, caught their breath.
“Damn, Ry-man, you nearly took me out,” Halo grunted.
Rylan straightened. “A bump to your arm, no more.”
“No love tap, dude.”
“I’m loyal to the team, but I also live here. It’s all about community.”
“Five-five. Let’s hold them to a tie.”
Eric’s grand slam drew a fifteen minute celebration. The Hurricane players lifted him on their shoulders. Jostled him into the dugout. Gatorade was shaken; their uniforms splashed orange. Hurricane fans screamed themselves hoarse. The noise level went stratospheric. It took all four umpires to bring calm to the chaos. Security escorted people off the field.
The pitching coach, Zoo, and shortstop Brody Jones stood on the mound with the Triple-A pitcher. The coach would keep his cool. Jones would offer encouragement. Zoo would growl like a hellhound. He had the tattoo to prove it. He could be an ass.
Andy was shell-shocked. His expression grim. He allowed three further hits. Defense won the game. Landon caught a pop-up. Jake Packer, a lineout. Brody saved a bunt. Game over. Tied. No overtime.
Afterward, both teams formed two lines. They signed autographs and took photos with their fans. Up until the stadium lights flickered overhead, and the scoreboard shut down, thinning the crowd instantaneously.
Halo glanced toward the seats along the first base line, and noticed Alyn sat alone. It was late. Martha, Danny, and the contest winners had taken the commuter bus and returned to Barefoot Inn. She was waiting for him. A pleasant surprise.
He realized in that moment he wanted her with him at the end of every game. Meeting him in the parking lot for their own private celebration, win or lose. The thought of having one woman for the rest of his life didn’t strangle him. Didn’t give him heartburn. Didn’t set his feet to running. It left him calm. Anchored. Alyn Jayne was the one.
He was the last man on the field, or so he thought. He called to her, “Hummer in twenty.” A quick shower, and he’d join her.
She waved. Stood, and moved toward the nearest exit. It was then Halo saw Eric Madison, sitting by himself in the shadows of the visitor dugout. His head was bent. His hands wrapped around his grand slam bat. Halo approached him.
“Dude,” was all he said. He didn’t want to interrupt Eric if he was in prayer or doing some serious thinking.
Eric glanced up. His eyes were bright and he blinked several times. Halo understood the emotion that came with a major play. He’d been choked up himself on occasion.
The young man cleared his throat said, “Hey, Halo. You’re late leaving the field.”
“No later than you.”
“I saw the woman in the stands waiting for you.”
“Alyn Jayne, my fiancée.”
“She’s pretty.”
Halo nodded. “And the nicest person I know.”
“You’re lucky, man.”
“Sometimes life comes together when you least expect it.” Halo paused, continued with, “I’m going to get personal. Tell me to back off if you’d rather not talk about your family, your scholarship, and your plans for the future.”
Eric sat quietly, slow in responding, as if he was embarrassed. He squeezed the bat so tightly, his knuckles whitened. His words were choppy, his voice flat, when he told Halo about his college prospects, and how his life changed overnight with his old man’s drug bust.
Halo wasn’t good at giving comfort, but he could correct an unfortunate situation. He could remove obstacles. Project an opportunity. He made his offer of paying for the boy’s education, along with supporting Eric’s family until he signed a major league contract.
Eric was so stunned, he sputtered, “You think I’m good enough to play professional ball?”
“I know you are.”
The boy’s throat worked. “My dad didn’t think so.”
“I’m not your dad.”
“Why me, Halo?”
“Because you pointed to right field and delivered.”
“You laid glove on the ball.”
“Almost had it, too.”
“Almost . . .” Eric’s voice caught.
Halo rose then, and Eric followed him up. “You’ll need to contact my business manager,” he said. “I’ll follow up with the info tomorrow. I’ll also stop by your house and give all the details to your mother.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say nothing. I’m doing this anonymously.”
“Word always gets out. Barefoot William doesn’t know how to keep a secret. We’re all family, without being related. Good news will spread.” He pursed his lips. “Any advice?”
“Play hard. Don’t get complacent. Someday you may contract with the Rogues. I’d rather have you on our team than playing against us.”
“I play right field.”
“Switch to center. Rylan Cates will retire before me.”
“Thanks, Halo.” Eric gave him a man-hug. A thump to the shoulder.
Halo finished with a fist bump.
Eric took off, jogged toward the visitor locker room.
Halo leaned against the dugout rail. Silence separated him from the team. The majority of the players would have already showered and changed, and headed out for the night. Alyn was on his mind. More and more she snuck into his thoughts. He heard a shuffle in the stands above the dugout. He peered around the corner, expecting to see the cleaning crew.
No one swept, no one picked up trash. The sound came from Alyn. She stood in the aisle, a tote in hand, and her eyes wide, as if caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“I didn’t know you were still here,” she apologized. “Or that you were talking to someone. I remembered my purse, but forgot my bag, and returned for it. I wasn’t eavesdropping. It’s quiet, and your voices carried.”
“Not a big deal,” he assured her. “I was talking to Eric Madison.”
“Your conversation was life-changing. Hope is empowering.”
“The kid is damn good. I’ve given him a chance. It’s up to him to act on it.”
“He won’t let you down.”
“I don’t think so either.”
They stared at each other. Neither wanting to move. “Come here,” he said to her.
“How?” She’d have to crawl through the railing, and then there was a significant drop.
“Toss down your purse and tote,” he suggested. She did so. “You’re slender enough to squeeze through the rails sideways.”
“What if I get stuck?”
“You’ll spend the night.”
He heard her huff, and smiled. “Try, you’ll make it. I’m here to catch you when you jump.”
“I’m wearing a sundress.”
“Panties?”
She ignored him. “Don’t let me fall.”
Never would he let that happen. She slipped through without any problems, as he’d told her she would. Standing on the edge, she bent her knees, took a leap of faith. Her sundress billowed slightly, and her thighs were visible. It was too dark to see the color of her underwear. He caught her easily. Held her against his body. She didn’t squirm, as he’d expected.
Instead, her long hair fanned his shoulders, and her dress flared as she curved her arms about his neck and wrapped her legs about his hips. He locked his fingers beneath her bottom. Cotton panties.
She turned his baseball cap around, so the bill faced backwards. Then rested her forehead against his. Her body was soft. Her eyes, liquid. “I like you, Halo Todd,” she slowly admitted. An absolute first for her. “You’re a good man.”
“What brought that on?” Liking him was good, loving him, better. That would come with time.
“Speculation, only. I think you’ve been self-indulgent all your life. I find it very sexy that you’re helping others.”
“Sexy, huh.” He’d write out checks every day for the rest of his life if she’d hold that thought.
“You’re setting me up in business. You’re sending Eric to college. There’s more to Halo Todd than meets the eye.”
“Don’t look too closely.” He didn’t want to disappoint her.
“I want to be close,” she breathed against his mouth, right before she kissed him. All on her own, without his prompting. He embraced his woman and the moment, in the semidarkness, behind the dugout.
He let her do the kissing. She kept it light, yet with feeling. Her innocence turned playful. Her tease drove him crazy. He needed more than her close-mouthed kisses. But when he snuck his tongue between her teeth, she bit down. Hard. The sting went straight to his groin. He stirred, swelled, and went all wood on her.
He groaned. “Damn, I’m horny.”
“That’s evident. You wouldn’t need a baseball bat to play ball.”
Halo grinned. She was right. “You still holding out on me?” he had to ask, on the off chance she’d relent and they’d have sex.
“It’s best, Halo.”
“For who?”
“For both of us in the long run.”
“How about short-term, then?”
“There’s a difference?”
“We need to take advantage of spring training. Short days, long nights. Regular season, it’s reversed. I practically live at the ballpark.” He nipped her bottom lip, sucked it into his mouth. Released it slowly. “You’d like us if you tried us.”
“So you keep saying.”
“I’ll keep saying it, until we do it.”
“Persistent man.”
“I know what I want.”
“Thank you for wanting me,” said softly, appreciatively. Almost sadly.
He heard her uncertainty. Her inability to fully trust. She held back with him. They faced ten months together. He didn’t want to push her further. She feared being let down. He wasn’t going anywhere. He’d prove it to her.
He loosened his hold, and she slid down his body. “Late-date night?” he asked.
“Mom and Danny went back to the inn. They’ll feed and walk Quigley. Danny’s had a full day. He’ll write in his school journal, go to bed. So . . .” She picked up her purse and tote. “I’m available.”
Halo would make the most of their time together. They walked across the infield toward the exit tunnel. The cleaning and maintenance crews would arrive within the hour. But at the moment, the stadium was nearly deserted. He had her wait for him in the Media Lounge, where coaches and players met with the press after a game. She pulled her iPhone from her purse, checked, and answered messages. He headed for the showers.
He returned to her in twenty minutes. Unshaven, but wearing a clean gray pullover and charcoal slacks. He planned to take her to Saunders Shores, the city that shared the southern boardwalk with Barefoot William. That side of town was upscale and prestigious. A change from honky-tonk.
He parked off Center Street. Tucked her to him as they turned left into the world of the wealthy. The walkway shifted from cracked cement to cocoa-brown brick. Here, there were no in-line skaters, unicyclists, street singers, portrait painters, magicians, or vendors hawking hot dogs and churros.
There were no rickshaw pedicabs. No one wore swimsuits or walked around barefoot. The patrons shopping the main city blocks were dignified and well dressed. No one browsed; everyone bought. Customers carried designer boxes and bags. The boutiques and café owners flourished, even at this late hour.
Lantern-style lampposts stretched along the boardwalk. Tall pole lighting lit the sugar sand for walks. The ocean mirrored a thousand stars.
Alyn liked to window-shop. He smiled at her each time she pressed her face close to the glass. He could afford to buy anything that caught her eye. Ten times over. Alyn asked for nothing. She only wanted to browse.
They stopped before a formal dress shop and admired the fancy dresses and proper tuxedos, then inhaled deeply as they passed an outdoor Italian bistro. Wine, pasta, rich desserts.
Halo heard the catch in Alyn’s breath as they passed the jewelry store. Diamond rings of every cut, clarity, and carat were presented on glass tiers. The display was blinding. She needed an engagement ring. It was time to make them official. He’d let her choose. A ring that represented them.
He took her hand, and walked her toward the entrance. He swore she dug in her heels, but he was stronger, and got her through the door. Wide-eyed, her cheeks pink, she stood beside him. She was too stiff for a fiancée. The women he’d known over the years would covet the rings in each glass-topped case. Wanting to try on the pricey and sparkling. Despite the cost to him.
A small man in a three-piece suit approached them. “Mr. Todd, I’m Ari LaMon, the jeweler,” he introduced himself. “I recognized you right away. My son was at your exhibition game. He was excited over the tie.”
“The high school team played well,” Halo agreed.
America’s pastime. Baseball brought people together. The Rogues had a wide spectrum of fans. The stadium filled with both the wealthy and the working class. They sat together, cheering. Everyone in the crowd carried the team’s win home.
“What might I help you with?” LaMon politely inquired.
“An engagement ring for Alyn.”
Could dollar signs flash in a man’s eyes? If so, LaMon was already cashing in. Alyn, on the other hand, hadn’t left his side. Shyness and uncertainty overtook her. Maybe he’d been misguided suggesting a ring. It had seemed right to him at the time. He wanted her comfortable with their arrangement. A ring seemed the natural next step.
“Our engagement rings are in the case near the far wall,” LaMon told them. “I’m happy to show you our latest designs.”
Alyn had taken his hand in a death grip. Which Halo interpreted as her desire to look around without the man’s hard sell. He squeezed her fingers in reassurance.
“We’d like to browse, first, if you don’t mind,” Halo requested.
“Most certainly.” LaMon was cordial. He stepped back. He didn’t want to lose a sale. He gave them space.
Halo led Alyn to the case of engagement rings and wedding bands. The selection was enormous. He felt her shudder, and looked down. “What, babe?” he asked. Something was wrong. No smile. Her expression was tight, pale. Her free arm curved about her stomach, as if she was sick.
She rose on tiptoe, whispered near his ear, “Please don’t put me in this position.”
“What position?” She’d lost him.
“Don’t buy me a ring I’ll be returning to you in ten months.” She settled back down.
His gut clenched. He mentally thumped his forehead. Kicked himself in the ass. What had he done? He’d made her uncomfortable, hurt her, without meaning to. All because he wanted to prove his commitment to their partnership. To her. He’d done a damn poor job.
Alyn was smart, intuitive, a woman of foresight. She was already thinking months ahead, to their separation. He needed to fix that. He leaned down, kissed her lightly. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking at tomorrow, only at tonight. I wanted to do something nice. Special.”
She pressed her palm to his chest, right over his heart. “You’re generous, spontaneous, and I thank you for that. You know our outcome, as well as I do. A ring isn’t the answer. Now or later.”
Halo had never felt more let down in his life. What he’d thought a great idea had totally bombed. She had no clue how he felt about her. He wasn’t ready to tell her. She wasn’t ready to hear it. He wanted her to trust him first.
Uncertainty claimed him. His heart now raced, as it did at the ballpark, when he was in the outfield, running to save a home run ball, yet knowing it was beyond his reach. How could he fix their situation? He wasn’t leaving the store without buying Alyn something that would tie them together. For the time being.
“No ring,” he said, and her body relaxed against him. Lady was relieved. “But if you were to pick one, which one would it be?”
She gave him a small smile. “More pretend between us?”
“I can fake it if you can fake it.”
“The aquamarine is lovely, with the circlet of diamonds.”
She had good taste, Halo thought.
He turned to the jeweler, and off the top of his head, said, “Alyn wants something unusual for our engagement. Not necessarily a ring. What might you suggest?”
The jeweler swallowed his disappointment at not selling them an expensive ring, then suggested, “Perhaps an antique locket from an estate sale? Authentic, classic, memorable.”
“Antique” caught Alyn’s attention. “I’d like to see the locket, please.”
LaMon walked them across the room to a smaller showcase, designed with jewelry box details. The black satin drawers pulled out to reveal broaches, cameos, bejeweled hat pins, strands of glass beads and pearls, monogramed rings and cuff links. Old, yet timeless. Pieces preserved from the past.
The jeweler slid back a glass panel, reached inside the case. He tapped a secret compartment on one of the boxes, and a side drawer opened. He removed a small heart-shaped locket on a delicate silver chain. He laid it out on a velvet rectangle for their inspection. “Filigree, gold filled,” he told them. “The outer lacework is the finest I’ve ever seen.”
The necklace left Alyn speechless. Her expression conveyed her sense of awe. She reached out to touch it, but her hand fell short. As if she were afraid. “It’s incredible,” she managed.
“I’ve determined the locket to be French, after a great deal of inquiry and research,” he stated. “No doubt worn by a woman of class. Possibly even nobility.”
Alyn could only stare, so Halo carefully picked it up, put it around her neck. The locket was delicate, like Alyn. The heart was meant for her cleavage, he thought. It complemented her breasts.
The jeweler produced a pedestal mirror. Placed it on the top of the case. He dropped his sales pitch. “I’ve had the locket for some time,” he admitted. “It’s been admired by my clientele, but never fully appreciated. You’ve fallen in love with it, my dear. I believe it was meant for you.”
Halo thought so, too, but awaited Alyn’s approval before making the purchase. The choice was completely hers. He’d make no further assumptions or mistakes with her. He stood behind her at the mirror, his face reflected with hers. The jeweler stepped aside, until they came to their decision. Halo took advantage of their moment alone.
He leaned close, kissed her on the neck, just below her ear. She shivered. “Beautiful locket, even more beautiful woman.”
She fingered the fragile chain. Sighed. Then gently flipped the clasp, and looked inside the locket. It was empty. Waiting for her to decide which pictures or mementos should fill the heart. She closed it.
She met his gaze in the mirror. “If you truly want to buy me something, if you persist in being engaged, then the locket seals our deal.”
He had one final concern. “Promise me you won’t turn around and sell it at your shop after ten months. That you’ll keep it, no matter what goes down between us.”
She turned to face him. “I won’t ever part with the locket. I give you my word.” She kissed him then. Right in front of the jeweler and a newly arrived couple, looking at watches.
He eased back, nodded to LaMon. “I’m ready to settle up. She’ll wear the locket.”
“I will get you the velvet bag and small box it came in, for when she takes it off.”
Halo left Alyn, and followed the man to the back of the store. “I want to order an engagement ring.” Halo kept his voice low. LaMon raised an eyebrow, questioningly. “Aquamarine, diamond circle.” The jeweler gave a discreet nod. “It’s perfect for us—she just doesn’t know it yet.”
LaMon’s lips twitched, but he held back his smile. Didn’t give a thing away. “Insured and delivered?”
Halo slid his wallet from the back pocket of his slacks, and passed the jeweler a Black American Express. “I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”
“Very good.” LaMon extended his hand. Halo shook it.
Halo and Alyn left the store shortly thereafter. Happiness shone in her eyes, Halo noticed. Her heart was light. He was relieved. They stood on the boardwalk, gazing at the night. Laughter echoed to their left, as a group of people came through the door of Lavenders. The gourmet shop catered to the discriminating palate. Or so the sign read.
Halo tipped up her chin, asked, “Dessert?”
She was thoughtful. She looked through the window. “They specialize in sorbet.”
“I’ve only had it once, but I’m game.”
They entered through frameless glass doors etched with the letter L. The lighting was soft, and the French Mediterranean shutters were drawn against the darkness. Intimacy was served with the sorbet.
The hostess openly eyed Halo with interest and curiosity. Her gaze then touched on Alyn. She noticed the locket. “Lovely,” she commented.
“Engagement gift,” Alyn said softly.
“Lucky you.” Her tone was envious.
The lady seated them at a linen-covered café table. The chairs were an intricate white wrought iron. Big man. Small chair. Halo shifted twice, trying to get comfortable. A server arrived with tall, fluted glasses of sparkling water. No ice. The crystal made the water dance. She then set a sheet of lavender parchment paper before each of them. The menu curled slightly and was as thin and delicate as tissue paper. He debated holding the menu, afraid his large hands might damage the paper.
“Elegant,” Alyn murmured as she carefully ran her finger along the side and read the gourmet flavors. “Coconut-caramel, burnt sugarplum, cranberry-pear, and raspberry truffle. They all sound delicious.”
“Fancy.” He had no idea what else to say. He wasn’t a fan of mixed tastes. He liked plain old vanilla ice cream. The occasional chocolate.
Their server returned. “Our three specialty flavors of the night are limoncello-mint, bittersweet chocolate-cherry, and white chocolate-chip mousse.”
Alyn’s lips parted on a sigh. She lightly tapped one corner of the parchment with her fingertip. “They have a sampler. Four flavors of choice. We could try a little of each.” Her gaze was expectant. Hopeful. Tentative. Afraid he’d say “no.”
He reached across the table, took her hand, and twined their fingers. Reassured her, “Order a dozen samplers if you like.”
“I’ll bring two samplers,” the server suggested. “Eight great tastes.”
“Perfect,” said Halo.
“Thank you,” Alyn whispered.
“For what?”
“For being kind.”
“I like being nice to you.”
“And I appreciate it.”
He had a history of doing what he wanted, when he wanted. He was doing his damn best to turn his life around. To think of others first. He stroked along the side of her hand with his thumb. “You could be nicer to me, you know.”
She pursed her lips, feigned confusion. “How so? Should I buy you an engagement gift, too?”
“Not jewelry.”
“Something personal?”
“You’re getting warmer.”
“Possibly sexual.”
“On target.”
“No.”
Harsh. It had been worth a try. The mere thought of them having sex made his dick stir. Misbehave. The linen cloth only covered so much. He scooted his chair farther under the table. The pain of it all.
Alyn had the nerve to smile. They’d kissed several times, and she’d responded. Wholeheartedly. They would make love, he determined. Waiting wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. The anticipation was killing him.
He was about to tell her so, when their sorbet arrived. The desserts came in small, frosted cut-glass bowls, placed on lacy ecru doilies. The portions were two bites. If that, Halo thought. He could easily eat the scoop in one. The spoons were sterling silver and tinier than a teaspoon. He felt like a giant at a doll tea party.
“Oh . . .” Alyn’s eyes rounded. “Sorbet artwork. These are too pretty to eat.” She was reluctant to spoil the arrangement, but equally afraid they’d melt.
Halo watched as she sampled the burnt sugarplum. The scoop was sprinkled with lavender-colored sugar, and framed by slices of plum. More a woman’s dessert than a man’s.
He picked up the tiny spoon, forced to hold it between two fingers. He went with the coconut-caramel, rich with flakes of coconut and shredded caramel. The sorbet melted on his tongue. Not bad. Unfortunately, he couldn’t lean across the table and kiss Alyn. He’d like to mix their sensually smooth flavors. He would suck her tongue deep into his mouth. Taste her fully.
She ate slowly, savoring every bite. Her eyes closed and she sighed over the raspberry truffle. She licked her lips. And Halo hardened. A second bite of his coconut-caramel did little to cool his libido. The sweetness reminded him of Alyn. The sorbet was satisfying, but not nearly as good as sex.
She eyed him from beneath her lashes. A sneak peek, as if she had something on her mind, but didn’t know how to approach the subject. “So . . .” He opened the door.
“I need to stop at Old Tyme Portraits before you take me home.”
“For a cutout photo?”
“Don’t ask, I’m not ready to tell.”
“Secrets, Alyn? Really? Between fiancés?”
“I want you to wait on the boardwalk while I go inside.”
“So many demands.” He was curious about her request, but he’d do whatever she asked. “Fine, I’ll give you ten minutes.”
“It might take fifteen.”
He’d wait for her, as long as it took.
They finished their samplers. Alyn moaned low in her throat as she finished the last of the white chocolate-chip mousse. Her hips rolled on the chair. He swore she had a sorbet orgasm.
He paid, left a big tip, and they moved to the door. The hostess touched his arm as Alyn passed ahead of him. “Come back anytime.” What she meant was, “Come back alone.” He stepped around her without comment. The woman didn’t see him as faithful. That bothered him a little.
They walked back the way they’d come. He held her hand. Kept her tight against him. They crossed Center Street, and the Barefoot William side of the boardwalk was ready to party. Shops remained open until midnight on Saturday. Energy charged the air. Laughter rose and fell like the tide.
Entertainment surrounded them. A unicycle troupe performed, riding everything from short cycles up to the tall giraffe. They moved forward and back, turning tight circles about Halo and Alyn, then making the bikes bounce in perfect unison. They had incredible balance. As did the stilt walkers and pogo stick jumpers.
Farther down the boardwalk, a magician turned a white straw into a red rose. He bowed and gave it to Alyn. The magic man’s cape changed from navy to orange in the blink of an eye. Impressive. Halo slipped the magician ten dollars. He waved the bill on the air and it became a twenty. He’d doubled his money. Pretty cool.
They admired a caricaturist. The artist sketched in charcoal. A few quick flicks of her wrist, and she captured Alyn’s likeness. Halo bought the drawing. For himself.
They reached Old Tyme Portraits just as a group was exiting, pictures in hand. Alyn slipped around them, entered. He wanted to peek in the window to satisfy his curiosity. Which would spoil her surprise. He lay low. Alone.
Until a blonde decided to keep him company. She split from her friends, approached him, hips swaying. She wore a belly shirt and low-rise jeans, flashing a lot of skin. Double-pierced navel. A tattoo of a middle finger etched her hip, with the words: Flip-off.
He knew the tat. He’d slept with her. After too many beers and a grinding slow dance. After an inviting smile and hearing she had an apartment within walking distance of the bar. He couldn’t remember her name. She held no interest for him now. If anything, she made him uneasy. He didn’t want a scene.
“Halo, hon.” Her hands went to his hips. She pulled him close. Her thumb flicked the tab on his zipper. He clasped her wrists. He didn’t need her hand action. She stuck out her lower lip. Pouted. “I heard a nasty rumor that you were engaged.”
“Truth.”
“Shit.”
He released her. Expecting her to walk away.
She lingered. Walked her fingers up his chest. “We had an amazing night together. Any chance—”
He shook his head. Didn’t let her finish. “Sorry, no.”
“You plan to be faithful?”
“So he says.” Alyn. She’d come up behind him.
Halo wondered how much she’d heard. If she even cared. Apparently, she did. She brushed his side, took his arm. Was competent, cordial. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said to the blonde. “I’m Alyn Jayne. Halo’s fiancée. Thanks for keeping him company while I was in the store.”
“Sharon Thomas,” said the woman. “I haven’t seen Halo for a year.”
“Catching up on old times is always nice.” Alyn kept her voice even. “Did you need more time? Maybe have a cup of coffee? A beer?”
Sharon blinked, surprised and slightly confused by her invitation. Alyn was handing Sharon her man. “No,” she slowly said. “We’re done here.” Sharon glanced one last time at Halo. “Good luck with this one. You’re going to need it.”
“I’m aware.”
Sharon called to her friends, caught up to them.
Halo watched his past walk away.
Alyn came around to face him. “You dated her.” More a statement than a question.
“Not a date-date. We met at a bar. Spent the night together.” He was honest with her.
She tilted her head, eyed him speculatively. “She looks like your type.”
“What type might that be?”
“Hot, sexy, out to party.”
That might have been his type a month ago, but no longer. “I’m trying to get my act together.”
“Who you were isn’t who you are now.”
“Not everyone sees the change in me.”
“Actions speak louder than words.”
“You handled Sharon like a pro.”
“We have a business deal, Halo. I’m holding up my end of the bargain. I’ll assume there are more Sharons to come.”
He couldn’t tell her how many.
He’d lost count a long time ago.
He had only one woman in his life now.
The one he planned to marry.