Six
“Time to toast,” said Will Ridgeway. The starting pitcher sat on a bar stool next to Halo. Landon and Zoo flanked them. Jake Packer stood to the side. Will held up his bottle of Heineken, his go-to brew for the night. He led off, “Look like a movie star, party like a rock star, fuck like a porn star.”
Bottles clanked, and the men drank deeply. All but Halo.
Zoo went next. He raised a long neck Red Dog. “To being single, seeing double, and sleeping triple.”
More drinking. Not Halo.
“May all your ups and downs be between the sheets,” from Jake. Who chugged a Coors.
Chuckles, and consumption. Halo had yet to raise his beer.
Landon was next. He preferred Land Shark. “Here’s to those who’ve seen us at our best and seen us at our worst and can’t tell the difference.”
Beers were polished off. Halo hadn’t taken a sip.
The air went dead. The players stared at him. He was last to toast. He remembered a quote from Hemingway’s Bar in Key West. “‘Always do sober what you said you’d do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut,’ my man Ernest.”
Zoo’s lip curled. “You yanking me?”
“Careful who you promise what to tonight.”
Zoo got the message. “No more marriage proposals. That’s a morning headache worse than a hangover.” He cut Halo a look. “What’s up with you, dude? Women have been shoving their tits in your face and flirting their asses off. You’ve ignored them. You sick or something?”
Or something seemed about right, Halo thought. Or someone. Alyn Jayne. She was in his head. Under his skin. He couldn’t shake her. No matter how hard he tried. He’d been with her five days straight. He should be tired of her. He wasn’t. He wanted more. The feeling scared the hell out of him. He’d never felt anything like it.
He cared more about what she was doing at that moment than about the girl trying to climb onto his lap. He turned slightly on his stool, nudged her toward Jake. She pouted full red lips.
“I’m starting out slow,” Halo told his teammates. “I’ll pick up speed.”
Zoo snorted. “When have you ever paced yourself?”
Never, Halo realized. More often than not he was half in the bag by ten. It was after that now, and he continued to drink one beer to everyone else’s three . . . or four, given the redness of Zoo’s eyes.
“Beer here,” Will called to the barkeeper.
Cold ones all around. Halo took a long pull on an Amstel. That pleased his buddies. They slapped him on the back, cheered him to kill the beast. He emptied the bottle. Then slammed it down on the bar. Zoo gave him a high five. Halo nursed the next one.
The players left him alone, then. For the moment, anyway. They were looking to hook up. The Blue Coconut was packed with women. All sizes. All shapes. All hot. All interested in ballplayers. Zoo had found two females to his liking. Both redheads. He liked threesomes. He split his attention, kissing one, then the other. Neither seemed to mind.
Halo rolled his shoulders, tried to relax. Found it difficult. Scanning the crowd, he caught sight of Rogues’ captain Rylan Cates seated at a table near the back wall. Ry was talking to shortstop Brody Jones. They were the only married men on the team. The two hung out to show their unity. They were good for a couple hours, at the onset of the night. They would split when the coast cleared.
Halo had nodded to Ry on his arrival, but had yet to speak to him. Now was as good a time as any. Clutching his ice-cold beer, he pushed off his stool, and pressed flesh. The peanut bar was packed. Partiers continued to file in. No dress code. Women went skimpy. Board shorts on the bare-chested men. There was a lot of skin.
Baskets of shelled peanuts were offered to customers. Salty nuts that made everyone thirsty. Bar bills rose. The shells were shucked and tossed on the floor. They crunched underfoot. A corner jukebox played loudly. The oldies. “Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On” by Jerry Lee Lewis could barely be heard over the chatter and laughter. A life-size neon Elvis statue leaned against the vintage Wurlitzer. The skinny Elvis, not after he’d gained weight. Dartboards and pool tables drew customers to the back room.
The jukebox dropped a new record, and Creedance Clearwater Revival’s “Bad Moon Rising” played. A chick with spiky blue hair who was drunk out of her skull fell into Halo. He steadied her with one hand. She wrapped her arms about him, went up on tiptoe, seeking a kiss.
“What the hell?” an angry male voice shouted in his ear. “Get your hands off Audrey.”
Halo held up both hands, one with his beer, the other open, palm out. “She knocked into me,” he told the pissed off man. He wore a khaki work shirt with RON stitched over the pocket.
“I saw you grab her.”
“You saw wrong, dude.”
“You calling me a liar?” Ron’s words were slurred.
“He’s not, but we are,” came from Landon. He stood on Halo’s right. Zoo and Will now on his left. Game faces in place, they had Halo’s back should the argument escalate.
Halo’s accuser was not alone. Four men stuck by him, long-haired, narrowed-eyed, and built like bricks. Halo wasn’t drunk enough to take pleasure in a fight. Still, Ron irritated the hell out of him.
The jerk’s buddies came closer. The biggest, heaviest of the four poked Zoo in the chest. Halo had a bad feeling. Never poke a man who shrugged off life. Zoo was a six-foot-four death wish. He had a twice-broken nose, and looked more mixed martial arts fighter than ballplayer. His past was as dark as his expression. Bat-crap crazy ran in his blood.
Zoo’s jaw worked now. He accepted the first jab from the man’s middle finger with a sneer. Do it again, his expression challenged. The man took Zoo’s dare. Socked him harder with his fist. Zoo grabbed his wrist, twisted, and the dude dropped. Like cement. He clutched his arm, crawled to his feet.
Time digested the incident. Breathing thinned. The crowd backed off. If a fight ensued, a misplaced punch could take out a bystander. Four ballplayers stood against five instigators. Anything could happen.
The woman who’d knocked into Halo had passed out on a nearby chair. Facedown on the table. She wasn’t Halo’s fight. He stared down her boyfriend. “Are we done here?” He kept his voice low, even. Giving the guy a chance to save face and back off.
“We’re done if you’re done.”
Halo gave him a short nod. They parted ways.
“I’m blowing,” said Will. “The Lusty Oyster’s calling my name. What about you guys?”
“I’m gone. Let me grab the Reds,” Zoo agreed, referring to his twins.
“I’m with you, too,” said Landon. “I won our afternoon bets. You’re in my debt, Will.” He glanced at Halo. “You coming? Hank Jacoby just texted. He and Sam Matthews are on their way. They got a late start.”
“They’ll catch up.” Of that Halo was certain. “I was headed to talk with Rylan before the confrontation. I’ll sit for ten, then find you.”
“Ry hired two stretch limos for the night. Chick chauffeurs. They’ll get us to Boner’s after the Oyster.”
“Sounds good.” A fist bump with Land, and Halo finished with, “Keep an eye on Zoo. He’s had the taste of a fight. The littlest thing could set him off. No blood.”
Land gave him a thumbs-up. Halo made it to Rylan’s table without further mishap. “Take my chair,” Brody offered. “It’s past my bedtime.” The big man from a small town in West Virginia finished off his beer, made his way to the door. He seemed relieved to leave.
Halo dropped down. He noticed Rylan’s empty glass, and flagged down a barmaid. “Whiskey?” he asked.
Ry shook his head. “Coke.”
“Make that a Coke and a club soda,” Halo told the server. She left to fill their order.
Ry looked questioningly at him. “You’re not drinking?”
“I had a beer earlier.”
Rylan let it drop. “I saw your run-in,” he continued. “I didn’t recognize any of the guys. They’re not from around here. I appreciate you not fighting. My cousin owns the bar. He’d hate to close for repairs. You guys never leave a table or chair standing. Only splinters and toothpicks remain. Damages are costly.”
Halo shrugged. He’d initially wanted to flatten the son of a bitch, yet his conscience talked him down. He’d thought about Danny. The kid idolized him. Alyn was sweet. Gentle. How would he explain a black eye, bruised cheek, or broken jaw to them? No ballplayer wanted to start the season banged up. It wasn’t worth it.
Ry shelled a peanut. “You’ve kept to yourself tonight.”
“You’ve been watching me?”
“Someone has to.” He popped the nut in his mouth, tossed the shell on the floor. “I heard you just pulled into town with your contest winner and two chaperones. A family affair.”
A Landon broadcast. “My winner’s eight. His mom’s nice. His sister—”
“Is a total babe, according to Will.”
His teammate would be right. Alyn was hot. And nice. It was her kindness and generosity that appealed to him most. She put others before herself. She kept track of Danny and took care of Quigley. She consulted and included her mother in all decisions.
He worried about people taking advantage of her. In Halo’s mind, her previous boyfriend was a douche, and her business partner a criminal for wiping out her bank account. He would do his best not to let her down.
He rested his elbows on the table, admitted, “Alyn Jayne is a looker.”
“Are you looking?”
“I’ve side-eyed her.” A thousand times.
The barmaid brought their drinks; Halo paid for them.
“You tip bigger than anyone I know,” said Ry.
Halo shrugged. “I make decent money.”
“You’re the—what?” Rylan scratched his head. “Third highest-paid right fielder in the league.”
“Second,” Halo corrected. He caught Ry’s grin, and knew he’d been baited. Rylan knew exactly how much Halo earned compared to other players. Ry ranked first in center fielders. The Rogues were a highly competitive check-writing franchise. The organization paid their men well. The team paid the owners back with a solid season.
“It’s a bonus year for you and Landon. High stakes,” said Rylan. “Play hard, surpass last year’s stats, and you’ll bank a bundle.”
It wasn’t the money as much as proving to himself that he could focus and exceed expectations. It was do-or-die personal mission. One that started now. He needed to keep his act together, and get through the night without mishap.
“I hear you’re in the best shape of your life.”
Again from Landon. He shrugged. “I worked out some.”
“You bought athletic training equipment, and hired a Pro-X handler. The company covers all bases of a sportsman’s career. Fitness, nutrition, ambition. Three routines a day, each lasting ninety minutes.”
Halo narrowed his gaze, stared at him. “Did you have a hidden camera at my warehouse?”
“I know Pro-X,” Rylan confessed. “I used the company when I was traded from St. Louis to Richmond. I needed strength and body depth. They delivered.”
Halo rolled his shoulders. “Their workouts were killer. I swore at my handler hourly. My muscles hurt so badly the first week, I invested in a small whirlpool tank. That helped some.”
“The Pro-Xers are used to profanity,” said Ry. “I had a few choice words myself.”
“You, the dude who seldom gets mad, except at me?”
“You could tick off a priest.”
“I have.”
“You’re getting your life in order.”
Halo didn’t get many compliments from Ry. “It’s slow going.”
“Fast doesn’t stick. Keep at it. Steady wins.”
He was working on it. But restlessness stirred his soul at the most inopportune moments. He could only contain it so long. Longevity was not his friend. Distraction his worst enemy.
Rylan rolled his iced glass between his palms. Thoughtful. “I wanted to personally extend my appreciation for your contribution to the Island Walk Project.”
“What donation?” Halo played dumb.
“The six-figures you gave anonymously.”
“Not me, dude.”
“My sister says differently.” Rylan was serious. “Shaye was blown away by your generosity. She’s usually QT when it comes to private donations, but, in your case, she was out of her mind and had to tell someone. I just happened to be at the bank when she received your money transfer into her project account.”
Rylan ate a few more peanuts, finished with, “Shaye’s always envisioned a connecting foot bridge between Barefoot William and Shell Key. The island is small and barely a mile off shore. It’s ideal for nature walks, shelling, and picnics. You can reach it by boat or Jet Ski, but not everyone has the means. The bridge will be a great addition. An ideal tourist attraction.”
“I was glad to help. Keep this between us, okay? No one else needs to know.”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Yeah, I do.” Halo left it at that.
He stared across the thickening crowd. It was after eleven by the bar clock. Patrons continued to push through the door. It was standing room only around the dance floor. The noise made his ears ring.
Two sweet young things in tube tops and short-shorts navigated through the crowd to their table. Ben E. King’s “Stand by Me” played on the jukebox, pressing couples together. Halo thought he recognized the girls from the previous season—they were townies, baseball groupies, and always in the bars. Their names both started with an “M.” Misty, Missy, Marty, something like that. One now swayed to the music, while the other sang along. Badly. High-pitched and off key.
“Dance with me, Rylan,” the taller of the two requested.
“Sorry, Mindy. I’m married now.”
Not the answer she expected. “You consider dancing with another woman cheating on your wife?”
Halo had seen Mindy dance. She put the dirty in dirty dancing. Dry humping on the dance floor.
“It’s a personal choice,” said Ry, and left it at that.
“Your wife wouldn’t know.”
“I would.”
Mindy stuck out her bottom lip, pouted. “Your loss.”
No regrets for Rylan, Halo mused. There was no one like his wife, Beth. She was gorgeous, amazing, and fit right in with his household of dogs. That was no easy task.
The second girl came on to Halo. Her eyelids were heavy, and her words slightly slurred. She opened her arms, ready to embrace him. “Let’s do it. Song’s almost over.”
A year ago, he would’ve been half-drunk himself. He’d have pulled her close, made out with her on the dance floor. Contemplated a quickie. Tonight, he feigned an excuse. “Groin pull, sorry.”
The girl giggled. “Mindy’s a massage therapist. She’ll rub you.”
Mindy nodded. “A massage you’d never forget.”
Rylan had the balls to chuckle. He leaned back in his chair, amused by the exchange.
“Not tonight, but maybe tomorrow,” said Halo, letting her down easy. The girls were getting persistent. He didn’t want to make a scene. “No” seemed to piss women off. Made them more aggressive.
“The therapy office is closed on Sundays,” said Mindy. “I have a two-fold portable massage table. I could come to you.”
Halo nodded. “Good to know.”
The girls left them then, weaving across the room on wobbly legs. It took them less than a minute to locate willing dancing partners. A second slow song drew twosomes together. Tightly. Kissing and roving hands came into play.
“Groin pull?” Rylan grinned.
“I ended last season with a pulled groin, and I had a sudden flare up,” Halo said defensively.
Ry finished off his soda at the exact moment he received a text on his iPhone. He showed it to Halo. Halo laughed out loud. Ry’s wife had sent a picture of their Great Dane Atlas standing before the front window, looking out at the night. His nose was pressed to the glass. The text read: Waiting up for you.
“Time to fly,” said Rylan. He stood. “This is our year. World Series Trophy returns to Richmond. Let’s make it happen.”
Halo nodded his agreement. His own iPhone buzzed. A short text from Landon. We’re here, you’re there.
They’d have to wait a while longer. He had the sudden urge to drive by Barefoot Inn. The Jaynes were likely asleep, yet there was an off-chance Alyn might be walking Quigley. He could only hope the dog had wakened and needed to stretch his front legs.
It took him thirty minutes to make his way to the door. Women flirted with him and men offered to buy him a beer. He passed, going out of his way to be polite. He promised to buy a round for the house next time he was at the Blue Coconut. Freebies won them over. Hoots and cheers followed him into the parking lot.
* * *
Alyn Jayne stopped at the street corner, leaned over, and removed a pebble from her canvas shoe. The lamplight and half-moon softened the darkness. The scent of wet sand and salt air was strong. The sound of the surf soothing. She and Quigley walked alone, back and forth in front of the inn. Peaceful silence. Her pug was good company. She felt safe, but didn’t wander far.
She scratched Quigs’ ear, straightened, and was suddenly caught in the headlights of an oncoming, slow-moving vehicle. A big vehicle that rumbled, pulled over, and parked against the curb. A Hummer.
Her heart missed a beat when she recognized Halo Todd. Quigley barked excitedly, wiggling his body, and nearly tipping over his cart. She had no idea why Halo was driving by the inn at such a late hour, but she was genuinely glad to see him. She smiled when he reached them. “Guys’ night out, and you’re by yourself?” she questioned.
“I just left the Coconut and I’m, uh, taking the long way to the Oyster,” he told her.
“Should you be driving?”
“No heavy drinking. Two beers. No more.”
“You’re here because?”
“Danny’s my contest winner, and I feel responsible for your family. I came to check on you, and here you are. Walking around in the dark. You should have a flashlight. Whistle. Pepper spray.”
Check on them? Hardly necessary. She put his concerns to rest. “Not so dark, Halo. There’s automatic safety lighting at the entrance and stairs. Pole lights along the sidewalk. The moon.”
That should’ve reassured him, but he didn’t seem satisfied. He stared at her so intently, she felt exposed. She hadn’t planned to bump into anyone on her night walk, and wished she’d taken more care. She hadn’t worn a bra, and her small breasts bounced beneath the thin cotton top. Her terry cloth shorts sat low on her hips. Her navel was visible.
Halo appeared as uneasy as she was. Strange, to say the least. He never lacked conversation or confidence. Yet at that moment he appeared more little boy than adult male. She rather liked this side of him. More human than hero.
Quigley made a grumbling nose in his throat. He wanted his share of attention. Halo hunkered down beside her pug. “Quiggie Sparks, how’s my boy?” He scratched the dog’s chest.
His boy? Quigs liked the sound of that. His front paws pranced in place. “Quigley woke an hour ago.” She brought Halo up to speed. “He scooted around the floor, feeling restless. A walk was the only answer.”
“I understand restless,” he said. “I’ll walk with you.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“It is for me.” He’d made his choice. Enough said.
She wasn’t certain how she felt. She’d witnessed firsthand the way women looked at him, all flirty and vying for his attention. The female manager of the villas on St. Simon’s Island had shown them to their treehouse, then lingered and spoken privately with Halo. For a significant time. She’d slipped him a key card to a room other than his own. Had he used the key? Unknown.
Alyn’s little toe was still sore from the tour guide at the drag racing museum stepping on her feet to reach him. Alyn had bitten her tongue, and not said a word. Halo had disapproved of the guide trampling her brother. The woman backed off.
The ladies in his life were defined as his past and present, but not his future. Alyn wanted more than a good time. She valued stability. Commitment. Forever. She’d been let down so many times in her life, she was perpetually wary. Trust did not come easy. Especially when it came to a man with a track record like Halo Todd’s. He wasn’t marriage material.
The spring training contest was a promotional event for the team. Halo was treating her family well. But at the end of the day, her time with him was temporary. She was no more than a chaperone. She’d be returning home in ten days. Her stomach sank at the thought. She tucked her feelings away, accepted what she couldn’t change.
Halo took the dog leash from her, then held her hand. The transition was seamless. His grasp was strong, secure. They moved down the sidewalk. He shortened his steps, only to have Quiggie lengthen his own. The pug pulled with all his might, his front legs trotting. The wheels on his cart clipped along the sidewalk. One tire got stuck in a deep crack, and he worked himself free. Alyn praised him.
They reached the next corner, and were in full view of the beach. Moonlight sprinkled the white sugar sand. The ripples on the Gulf streamed like silver ribbons.
Alyn breathed in the moment. “It’s so quiet. So beautiful.”
“Want to cross the street?” he asked.
Her first thought was her dog. “Quigs can’t navigate the sand.”
“Got it covered,” Halo said, dismissing her concern. He knelt down beside the pug, undid the straps, and then lifted him against his chest. Once secured, he scooped up the wheelchair with his free hand. “All set.”
They made it across the road, and descended two wide wooden steps. She followed Halo to a stretch of compact sand. It was low tide, and the waves crawled in, crept out. They stood side by side on the shoreline, taking in the night and each other.
Until Halo suggested, “We can sit if you want.”
What was a little sand on the back of her legs, her butt? It would brush off. Quigley was a different story. Wet fur had a distinct smell. He’d need a bath if he got sandy.
Halo fixed the situation once again. He gently passed her Quiggie, then set down the cart. He undid his white button down, shrugged it off his shoulders. Big man, big shirt, he spread it on the sand. She now faced his big bare chest. Alyn stared, overly long. She couldn’t help herself. Chiseled pecs. A brick-stacked abdomen. His male tiger line ran downward from his navel, dipping beneath his belt. The bulge behind his zipper was significant.
Quigley wriggled against her chest. She was holding him too tightly. She eased down on the shirt before her knees buckled. Buttons poked the back of her thigh, leaving small circular imprints. Halo lowered himself beside her. They sat so close, she was fully conscious of him. His body heat was warmer than the night. She set Quigley between them. The pug sniffed the air, attempting to inhale every new scent, all at one time.
Halo leaned back on his elbows and stretched out his long legs. Sand dusted his jeans. “Comfortable?” he asked her.
Jumpy, fidgety, might better describe her, she thought. She tried to relax. Wasn’t successful. She wondered how many other women he’d brought to the beach. Did they end up at his spring training apartment? Sex until sunrise?
A sandy dampness sneaked through the cotton of his shirt, but she didn’t complain. “I’m great,” she said instead. “This is a first for me.”
“Me, too,” he admitted. “I’ve never brought a girl to the beach at”—he looked at his watch—“midnight.”
“It’s been a long day.”
“Longer night. I’m thinking bed sooner than later.”
She could picture him on a mattress. His hair mussed, his breathing heavy, a sheen to his skin. Naked, and primed for orgasm. Sure-fire satisfaction. Sated and languid.
Sex. She blushed at the thought, which was both frightening and exciting. She’d been overwhelmed by his kiss at the game show. Spontaneous and with tongue. A ten-second turn-on. An hour with the man and she would shatter. Might never recover. She was fractured enough.
“Your thoughts?” He rolled onto his side, still raised on one elbow. He scratched Quigley’s ear. The dog yawned, already half asleep.
“Nothing’s on my mind,” she hedged. Nothing she could discuss with him, anyway.
He eyed her closely, then grinned knowingly. Maddeningly. “Dilated pupils, parted lips, pointed nipples. You’re not at the beach, babe, you’re in my bed.”
Pointed nipples? That hit her the hardest. She lowered her gaze, saw what Halo saw. She couldn’t claim it was cold outside. It had to be seventy degrees. Her sex-thought left visible imprints. She poked the thin cotton.
She groaned. Then flapped the hem, puffing it out and away from her breasts. Only to have it settle once again on her chest like a second skin. More pointing.
“Much better,” said Halo, his grin far too wide and way too wicked.
She’d only made it worse. She ignored the outline of her breasts, and hoped Halo would, too. He did not. His gaze lingered long and hot. Penetrating. Her stomach fluttered. She pressed her inner thighs together, as discreetly as possible. Inched her bottom away from him.
Halo reached across Quigley, curved his wide hand over her knee. Squeezed. “I brought you here to breathe, Alyn. To get to know you better. Not to have you tighten up and move away from me.”
She exhaled so fast, she blew raspberries. Halo chuckled. He was slow to release her. Two of his fingers lingered on her thigh, lightly stroking. “You have very soft skin.”
This said by a man with the hardest body of anyone she’d ever met. She was glad she’d shaved her legs during her shower. Applied lotion. “Now you know something about me that you didn’t realize before.”
“That I do.” His hand slid away, settled back on Quigs. He massaged the dog to sleep. “I like your brother, Danny. He talked a lot about your father on the trip south. He really misses him.”
“We all do.” She sighed. “It’s heartbreaking for my mother to spend time in the greenhouse, once my dad’s sanctuary. She sees him everywhere. She’ll return again, when she’s ready. My father died so suddenly. There were no good-byes.”
“Same with my old man.” His words came slowly, choppily. The sharpness of his cheekbones was made more prominent by the muscle ticking in his jaw. Alyn listened as he spoke of their relationship. The arguments that caused more grief than good. The older man’s eventual heart attack. The fact his mother blamed him.
She took it all in, uncertain of what to say when he’d finished. “I’m sorry. I wish things had been different for you,” she managed. “My dad was my champion. Every time I got shoved down, he gave me a hand up. He never let me lose sight of my goals. Opening a vintage store topped my bucket list.”
“You’ll have your shop, and you’ll be successful,” Halo said optimistically. “A professional ballplayer only has so many good years. I’d thought about returning to the lumberyard when I retired. Working beside my dad wouldn’t have been half bad. But I never got the chance. Instead I bought the warehouse.”
“What does a man do with a warehouse?”
“He lives there.”
“Oh . . .” She tried to picture his home, but saw no more than a big, vacant building.
“I have a forklift.”
“That should impress your dates.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Danny would be out of his mind.”
“I’ll have to show it to him sometime.”
Sometime. Alyn wondered when that might be. Once he returned to Richmond after pre-season? A year from now? She wouldn’t mention anything to her brother. She didn’t want to get his hopes up. “He’d like that,” was all she said.
“So,” he broached. “Do you permanently live with your mom?”
“I had my own apartment before my dad died.” She dug one hand in the sand, let the white grains filter through her fingers. Sighed. “Bad things often occur in threes, in my case, fours. I lost my father, my business partner stole from our joint business account, I got dumped by my boyfriend, and Quigley got hit by a car. Danny’s yet to forgive himself.”
“He will, once Quigs walks again.”
“I’m hoping so.”
A tiny shell stuck between her fingers, broken down the middle with uneven edges. It reminded her of herself. She went on to reflect. “Life flattened me for a short time, but I’m standing again. My previous partner and I never had a permanent retail location. We advertised and sold refurbished pieces from two rental units. The space was costly, and my bank account dwindled. I closed one unit, and moved half the furniture home. It’s crowded, but my mom hasn’t complained.”
“You have plastic on your couches.”
“To protect them. Danny spills soda and drips ice cream.”
“You’ve enough lamps to light Richmond.”
“The brighter the better.”
“All those mirrors.”
“I caught you looking at yourself.”
“I was checking you out. I liked what I saw.”
“I’m not much to look at.” Stated as fact; she wasn’t fishing for a compliment.
“You’re more than you know, babe.”
Nice of him to say, but she didn’t believe it. She was the woman of the moment, sitting beside him on the beach. It was extremely late. She tossed the shell aside and stared out at the Gulf. The water was dark, dappled by moonlight. Quigley snored softly between them. Her pug looked so comfortable, she hated to move him.
Small talk. Halo next asked, “Have you lived in Richmond all your life?”
She nodded. “Born and raised.”
“Me, too. Odd we never ran into each other over the years.”
“It’s a big city.”
“I’ve found you now.”
“No, I found you,” she corrected him. “On the sidewalk outside Jacy’s Java.”
He chuckled low. His dimples, deep. “I went in for a double espresso, and came out to a chicken.”
“We never did see the show air.”
“I have connections, and can get a copy of the tape if you really want to watch it.”
She wondered if he’d call Alex or Natalie the model. Natalie would offer more than the tape. “Thanks, but no thanks. It’s not worth reliving.”
“I agree.” Halo sat up then. He kept one leg straight and bent the other, resting his elbow on his knee. “What do you do when you’re not a chicken?” he asked, genuinely interested. “When you’re not collecting antiques?”
“Spare time is spent with my family,” she told him. “Growing up, I assisted my dad in the greenhouse. He had a green thumb, but most everything I touched turned brown. Still, he welcomed my help. I like movies, double-features. Buckets of popcorn. Big jigsaw puzzles. Reading. Quigley’s become a top priority. He pretty much goes wherever I do.” She cut him a glance. “How about you?”
“Action keeps me sane,” he said. “I’m flammable as hell, and sports burn energy. If I’m not playing baseball, I’m shooting hoops. Jogging. Working out. I’m not good at sitting still.”
“You’re sitting with me now.”
“Your calm rubbed off on me.”
“Not me, the beach. It’s restful and relaxing. Although you should be with your teammates.”
“I talked with most of the guys at the Blue Coconut early on. I’ll check on them before last call at Boner’s.”
The players didn’t wait for Halo to check on them, they began texting him. His iPhone rang with four consecutive posts. Long and detailed. He ran one hand down his face, relaying to her, “Will was playing darts, and didn’t wait for Jake to retrieve his round from the board. Will darted our first baseman in the ass. Jake retaliated, threw one back. Nailed Will in the thigh.”
“That had to hurt.”
Halo frowned. “They’ve had a lot to drink by now, so aren’t feeling any pain. Hank Jacoby invited one of the female limo drivers to breakfast. She dropped the players at Boner’s, then drove him to Scramblers, an all-night diner. They’ve yet to return. The team’s one limo short. Sam Matthews passed out in a booth. The chick he picked up got pissed, and took a permanent marker to his cheeks. Shit. Sam now has cat whiskers. Will’s calling him pussy face.”
That didn’t sound good.
His brow creased with concern. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “The guys lost Landon outside the Oyster.” He closed his eyes for half a second. Opened them. “I need to find him.”
“Go, then,” she encouraged. In one continuous motion, she collected Quigs and stood. Her pug was all warmth and snuggles. They brought comfort to each other.
Halo scooped up his shirt, shook it out, and slipped it on. Buttoned up. Then grabbed the dog’s wheelchair. “I would’ve liked to sit a while longer,” he said as they trooped across the sugar sand. He sounded as if he meant it.
“The beach isn’t going anywhere.”
They walked in silence. Each holding his and her own thoughts. Alyn was leaning toward sleep and Halo needed to track down his best friend.
They soon reached the inn. He walked her up the sidewalk, assisted her onto the porch. “See you upstairs?” he asked.
“We’re good from here.”
He handed her the cart. Stood at her side. Both her hands were occupied when he made his move, careful not to disturb her dog. But she wouldn’t have pushed him away, even if her hands were free.
The warmth of his palm settled on her shoulder as his fingers brushed back her hair. Leaning in, he kissed her neck softly, slowly. All warm breath and scratch of stubble.
Her eyelids grew heavy.
Pure sensation. Prickles, tingles, a rash of goose bumps. An undisguised shiver. More, she silently sighed, but got less.
Halo eased back. “Sleep sweet.” And he was gone. Before she even opened her eyes.
Arousal shared her bed.