Barefoot by the Sea

“What’s five thousand divided by three hundred and sixty-five?”

He looked surprised. “Why do you need to know?”

“Didn’t you say you do math like that in your head?”

“I did, and the answer is about thirteen and a half.”

She nodded, impressed. “You are a math whiz. Who’d guess that from a man with long hair, big muscles, multiple tattoos, and drives a motorcycle built to race off into the sunset?”

“Those may be things that terrify you, Tess, but none of those things says I can’t do simple division.”

“You’re right.”

“About the things that terrify you or simple division?”

“Both.” She held up the shell. “But, for your information, you figured out that for thirteen years, a sweet little mollusk called this home and lived in it, protected from all the dangers of the sea, until he was forced out to be food for some big shark.”

He looked equally impressed. “And you are a shell whiz.” He reached for the seashell but took her hand instead, clasping both in a strong, straightforward grip. “Who’d guess that from a woman with soulful eyes, sinful lips, no visible tattoos, and drives a truck big enough to haul a half ton of dirt.”

She laughed at the echo of her words. “Guess we’re both full of surprises.”

“That’s the fun part.” He got closer. “So, are you going to tell Lacey her daughter was making out with the line cook?”

Taking a deep breath, she managed to pull her gaze from the crystal blue of his eyes and look at the sunset, which was only slightly less breathtaking. “I don’t know. Let’s keep flirting instead.”

“Done and done.” He fingered some of her hair, twirling it slowly, a habit she was starting to like a lot. “You’re even prettier when you’re pensive.”

She closed her eyes, tilting her head back, giving him more hair to play with. “God, you’re good. Like world-class, you know? Where did you learn how to work a woman like that? California? Nevada?” She turned to look at him. “Singapore?”

She could have sworn he paled, but that might have been the changing light. “I was born with this curse. Just like you”—he tipped her face toward him—“were born with a very big heart.”

“How do you know that?”

“You love living things,” he said with absolutely no hesitation. “You love fruits, vegetables, flowers, and shellfish.”

And babies. “And I love that girl.” She tipped her head toward Lacey’s house. “So I don’t want her to do something monumentally stupid or dangerous.”

“You think Marcus is trouble?”

“I think he’s a condom-carrying twenty-year-old boy who is taking advantage of a girl who…” Maybe he didn’t need to know all the details of that little family problem Ashley had described. He didn’t need to know his new boss was slightly overwhelmed by life’s responsibilities.

“Who what?”

“Who’s still young and probably feeling a little squeezed for affection right now.”

He nodded. “Yeah, the new baby. Kids’ll do that.”

Wow, perceptive. In fact, something in the way he made that statement was so laden with familiarity it took her by surprise. “That sounded like the voice of experience.”

“God, no.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Marcus doesn’t seem like a bad guy,” he added quickly. “Maybe has a bit of a chip on his shoulder. Wanted to be the chef and resents my appearance, but he’s smart enough to know he can learn from me. Not easy to be the low man in the kitchen.”

More experience speaking, but this time it made sense. “Will you talk to him?”

“Not sure he’ll listen.”

“She didn’t listen either. Still, I really want to respect Ashley’s request. In a weird way, I understand what she’s going through and maybe she has to work it out for herself. Or maybe Lacey…” The thought formed and wrapped around her heart. “Needs to see what she’s doing to her daughter.”

He frowned. “Because she’s preoccupied with a baby and a brand-new business? Can hardly blame her, and Ashley isn’t exactly a child.”

So, so perceptive. “You can’t ignore a kid because of another kid. Or because of your job.”

“Speaking of sounding like the voice of experience.”

She turned to the sand, finding a tiny white cockleshell, the kind that were on Barefoot Bay in the millions.

How had he gotten there already? How had he spent a few hours with her and managed to dig right to a place that she never, ever shared with anyone—not even her closest friends?

“I have to figure out what’s the best thing to do about Ashley.”

“I think you should keep her secret.”

“Why?”

“Because if you tell her mom, shit will hit the fan and she’ll keep seeing him anyway, but on the sly and then they really might get into some trouble. If you keep her secret, Ashley’s got an adult she trusts and then you have a chance to talk to her, to advise her, and give her the kind of attention you think she’s not getting. She’ll confide in you, and you can be more help to her that way.”

She considered that, the wisdom of his words pressing on her chest. “You’re right,” she admitted. Absolutely, dead-on right.

“And in the meantime, I’ll get to know Marcus for you and find out what his intentions are. Although his pocket change tells me exactly what they are.”

“And maybe you can keep him from doing anything stupid.”

He laughed. “A twenty-year-old with raging hormones? Unlikely, but I’ll give it my best shot if it’ll make you feel better.”

She leaned back to get a good look at him. The sun, almost below the horizon now, cast indigo blue in his eyes. “You really are amazing,” she whispered, unable to keep the hint of awe out of her voice.

“’Bout time you noticed.” He closed the rest of the space between them. “So are you, by the way. Are you so fond of sea creatures that you won’t eat them?”

That made her laugh. “I’ll eat them.”

“Good, because I have made you the best shrimp scampi you’ve ever had and I found a great bottle of sauvignon blanc that I’m happy to have taken out of my first check. It was in the wine vault, where not a soul was liplocked, but”—he stood, tugging her up, but she stayed on the sand—“we can change that.”

She didn’t rise when he added some pressure.

“No?”

“Yes, I mean…” She laughed, dropping her head back in surrender. “I’m trying not to be so easy.”

“You’re not easy, trust me.”

“I’m an open book.”

“Not completely.” He gave another gentle yank on her hand. “There’s lots you haven’t told me. Like how you know so much about seashells.”

“Shelling has become one of my favorite pastimes.”

As she rose up, he pulled her right into his chest, melting her into the sweetest embrace. He nuzzled her neck with a few kisses and then slipped up to her ear. “I want to be your favorite pastime,” he whispered.

A million chills exploded all over her, her legs almost buckling at the sexy sound of such a harmless request. “There you go again.”

“You told me to flirt.”

“I didn’t tell you to turn me into a helpless mess of brain-numbing female hormones.”

“Is that what I do?” he asked innocently. “I’ll stop immediately.” He took a step back, but she reached for his hand, bringing him to her side.

“’Sokay. I can handle it.”

“Good girl.” He slipped his arm around her back and guided her down the beach. “Now, teach me about your seashells. Which is your favorite?”

“The junonia.” The word popped out without a moment’s hesitation.