Barefoot by the Sea

Her eyes flickered in surprise, and affection. “That’s not necessary.”

“You do want to go, right?”

“Actually, yes.”

“Then get in the truck, sweetheart.”

She started to, then stopped. “Why?” she asked again.

“Because I want to make you happy.” And having her friends like him was another key component to the marriage plan. Without waiting for another question, he closed the door and rounded the back, shoving down the misgivings that threatened to rise up and choke him.

There was no other choice.

Sliding behind the wheel, he felt her gaze on him, steady and definitely unsure.

“Why do you want to make me happy?”

He let out a soft laugh and twisted the ignition key. “Boy, you have been hurt. Tell me about it.”

“I did already,” she said, warming him with her directness.

“You had a shitty ex-husband,” he acknowledged, happy to have the conversation off his motivations and onto her life, where it should stay until they got to the party. “Was that enough to destroy your trust in all mankind?”

She laughed softly. “If all mankind were like you, womankind would be in big trouble.”

He shot her a grin. “You like me.”

“Jury’s out.”

“You like me.” He took her hand, the feeling of her fingers warm and familiar now. “You know you do.”

Her head on the backrest, she turned to him, smiling. “I could,” she admitted. “But we have to work together.”

“So?”

“Could be awkward.”

“What’s awkward?” he countered. “Longing looks across the kitchen? Kissing in the cooler? Daily trips up to the garden to roll around in the dirt with my favorite farm girl? What’s not to like about this arrangement?” Damn, it sounded a little too good.

But she laughed, clearly enjoying the exchange. “You make it sound fun.”

He squeezed her hand. “It will be fun.” Until it wasn’t. “It already is.” And that was no lie.

It had been a long time since he’d laughed easily with a woman, or made out in the moonlight. It had been a very long time since he’d delayed sex to linger over a romantic dinner or meet friends and family. It had been a long time since he’d…

Had a normal relationship.

Except, this wasn’t normal because this wasn’t real. He glanced at her and she met his gaze, giving him a warm smile.

But sometimes it felt real.

While they drove back to Mimosa Key, he let her tell him more fine points about her friends, the conversation lasting all the way along the beach road, up to Barefoot Bay to Lacey and Clay’s house. As they walked across the circular drive, he took a deep breath of salt air, eyeing the darkness of the Gulf of Mexico to their left.

“Nervous?” she asked.

Not a bit. “Spitless.”

She slipped her arm around his waist and reached up to kiss his cheek. “You’ll be great, John Brown.”

John Brown. John Brown. He clung to the new name he’d been given when Sean Bern had “died” in Singapore, which meant—for the N1L gang who wanted him dead, anyway—that Ian Browning was dead, too.

He had to be careful not to let this comfortable, easy, genuine woman make him slip and forget he was now John Brown. A man who’d bounced around from job to job but had recently been consumed with the burning need to settle down and had already fallen for this little island and one particularly appealing resident.

The front door opened and a man stepped out to greet them. “Hey, Tessa.” Reaching his hand out, he greeted Ian. “I’m Clay Walker. I understand you’re our newest employee.”

“John Brown.” The name rolled off his lips, so he added a confident nod to the other man, whose shoulder- length hair almost covered a small gold earring. The man was definitely a few years younger than his wife, but his handshake was strong and sincere.

A small group of adults gathered on an outdoor patio around the pool, but on the way out there, they walked through a family room where two teenage girls languished on the sofa, a bowl of popcorn between them.

“Oh, hi, Aunt Tess.” One of the girls rolled off the sofa and popped onto her feet, her reddish-blonde hair and freckled face telling Ian immediately this was Lacey’s daughter.

“This is my stepdaughter, Ashley,” Clay said. “This is Chef Brown.”

She gave a quick smile and then her eyes widened at him. “You’re the new chef?”

He nodded. “Looks that way.”

“Yeah, Marcus told me about your soup.”

“Are you friends with him?” he asked, digging for his finest small-talk abilities despite the fact that they were negligible at best, especially where teenage girls were concerned.

She shifted her gaze quickly to Clay, and shrugged. “I know him from, you know, around.”

“Come on out, guys,” Lacey called from the patio.

Ashley looked relieved, and Clay gestured for them to head outside. As Ian stepped across the threshold, he heard a whistle from the family room.

“Hey, Aunt Tessa. Nice!”

He didn’t turn to see Tessa’s reaction, but he mentally counted teenage Ashley among his supporters. One down, six to go. Oh, there were seven out here.

He froze midstep when he saw the infant in Lacey’s arms.

“I’d get up, but I don’t want to wake him,” Lacey said from a chaise near the pool. “Hello, John. It’s great to see you again.”

Even from fifteen feet away he could make out the familiar shape of a baby’s head, the slope of a button nose, the bundle of blanket tucked around a tiny, tiny body. Nothing prepared him for the soul-shattering impact.

“We’re all celebrating the news that you’ve accepted the job,” she said, beaming at him.

He had to hold it together. He had to act like any other guy who had absolutely zero reaction to a baby. Ambling over, he forced his attention on mother and off child.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Ms. Walker.”

She smiled up at him. “Please call me Lacey and thank you for accepting the offer. I hope you’re ready to work ASAP.”

“I’m ready,” he assured her, unable to fight the urge to look at the baby.

He supposed they really did all look alike, which only made this worse. Same peach fuzz of hair, same heart-shaped lips, same peaceful look while sleeping.

“This is Elijah,” she said proudly, lifting him gently. “You can hold him if you swear not to wake him up.”

“Sure.” He had to. Vaguely aware of Lacey glancing to one of the other women, he took her bundle, familiarity mixing with pain and a sense of deja vu so strong it nearly took his breath away. This baby was a carbon copy of Shiloh and Sam.

“About six months?” he asked, adjusting the baby a little closer to his heart. Shi had loved it there; she fell sound asleep when he held her that way.

Lacey pushed out of the chaise, smiling up at him. “Just about. You’re a natural, John.”

“Yeah, well, I…” Elijah shuddered with a soft sigh, the whimper as powerful as a kick in the face. “I have nieces and nephews.” Two, and he’d been away at school when they were this age.

He turned, coming face-to-face with another couple watching him with interest. Lacey introduced Will