Barefoot at Sunset (Barefoot Bay Timeless Book 1) (29 page)

Chapter Twenty-two

“I can honestly say I’ve never seen anything quite like this.” Emma held a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun, scanning the acres of the Barefoot Bay Bucks Baseball Complex. “A baseball stadium and…a petting zoo?”

Holding her hand, Mark guided her into the shade of a decent-size baseball stadium that held at least five thousand people. They passed vendors selling drinks and food, some baseball souvenirs, and, of course, all things goat. Goat’s milk soap. Goat’s milk. A sweet little stone gift shop and restaurant that looked like it had been lifted from the hills of Tuscany.

It was definitely one of the most unusual baseball parks he’d ever been to.

“When I was in high school,” Mark told her as they paused at a picket-fenced area with five or six goats bleating inside, “we used to come up here to this part of Barefoot Bay on Friday nights looking for a place to hang out and have parties. This whole area was owned by an old Italian guy named Cardinale.”

“It’s still owned by an Italian named Cardinale.” A woman with long, dark hair inside the pen knelt in front of a tiny black goat with a white blotch on its forehead. “That’s me. I’m Frankie Cardinale. Well, Frankie Becker now. My grandfather was the old Italian guy who owned the land, and La Dolce Vita—which is the name of this part of the park—was his dream.”

“With a minor league baseball stadium?” Emma asked.

The woman laughed, standing and brushing the remnants of goat food from her hand as she came closer. “The baseball part was my husband’s dream. Well, his along with a few friends.”

Her husband…Becker. Mark thought about the name and realized this woman must be married to Elliott Becker, one of the billionaires who’d dropped into Barefoot Bay almost two years ago and decided to build their dream team.

“Come on in and pet Daisy,” she said, opening the gate and gesturing toward the goat she’d been feeding. Instantly, two other goats who weren’t even knee high came trotting over. “Or Agnes and Lucretia.”

“They’re so small!” Emma got down on one knee to ruffle the fur of one of them.

“Pygmies,” the woman said. “Are you a local or a tourist?”

“I’m…” Emma looked up. “Just visiting now, but…” She stood slowly. “This island is a great place. I suppose you’ve lived here all your life, then.”

“No, just for a few years when I was growing up, then I came back to take care of my grandfather’s farm, but…” She turned and smiled at a long, lanky man in a cowboy hat who was pouring water into a drinking trough. “I fell in love.”

“
That’s
Elliott Becker?” Mark asked with a quick laugh.

Her smile widened when the man looked up and silently tipped his hat, not the least bit fazed by the humble job he carried out.

“He’ll clean up and get into the owner’s box before the game starts,” she assured them.

“But I have to take care of the bucks,” Elliott said, dumping his water and sauntering over to them. “Have you seen the buck pen?” he asked. “When you do, be sure to check out Becker, my namesake. He’s a beast, and I birthed him.”

Mark chuckled at the thought of a billionaire birthing a kid goat, but he could see nothing but pride in the man’s eyes, and love when he looked at his wife.

“Okay,
we
birthed him,” Becker corrected. “But I was there.”

Frankie rolled her eyes, but they both laughed in a natural, clearly loving exchange. The kind of thing that usually made Mark sad or a little jealous. But nothing felt sad today. He couldn’t conjure up a shred of sadness and jealousy.

He tucked Emma closer to him, shooting her the hundredth smile of appreciation today.

Becker’s goatherd wife was pretty, but Emma? He glanced down at her and pulled her closer, getting a warm smile in response, her eyes glinting like they had in bed a few hours ago.

“So have a blast while you’re here,” Frankie said. “Enjoy the game and be sure to go to the store and get our romance line of goat’s milk soaps. Perfect favors…” She gestured toward Emma’s left hand. “If you’re planning a wedding.”

“I named every soap we have,” Elliott added. “Even the corny ones.”

Frankie tapped her husband on the arm, nudging him back to the trough. “Quit bragging and get going. The game starts soon.” She looked over her shoulder at Emma. “Best of luck to you two.”

Alone, they shared a look. “We can’t keep lying to strangers,” she whispered. “Half the time I forget we’re supposed to be engaged.”

Really?
Mark thought. Because half the time he couldn’t think about anything else.

He stared at her, the sun beating down, the goats circling, the crowd cheering as the pregame festivities got louder inside the stadium. If this wasn’t the stupidest place to make a declaration, he didn’t know.

But everything was different today. He was different. They were. Who cared if they were standing in a petting farm?

“It doesn’t have to be a lie,” he said, his voice surprisingly raspy.

She just looked up at him, her mouth opened into a stunned little o shape.

“Emma, I really—”

“Emma! Mark! There you are!”

They turned to see Lacey Walker, with her husband, Clay, and a red-headed toddler between them hanging on to their hands.

“Hi, Lacey.” Emma sounded a little less than enthusiastic to see her possibly future boss. “We were just…”

Getting
real
, Mark thought. He tamped down his own disappointment. He’d find the right moment, and they wouldn’t be surrounded by goats or people.

“Hey, bud,” Mark called to the little boy. “You want to come and pet the goats?”

“Go ahead, Elijah,” Lacey said, opening the gate. His face brightened as he came barreling into the pen. “You better stay with him, Clay,” she said to her husband, who was already following his son to the pygmies.

“Yep,” he said. “I got this.”

She reached out a friendly hand to Emma. “I’m so glad I saw you. I didn’t know if we’d get a moment to talk today. Want to walk to the soap store with me, you two?”

Emma threw him a quick look, and he read it instantly. She was torn, but duty—or the chance of it—called.

“Sure,” he said. “The goats are all yours, Clay.”

The other man laughed but was on the heels of his lightning-fast son, while the three of them left the petting area and made small talk on the way to the store.

It didn’t matter that his moment had been squashed. He’d tell her tonight. In the villa, in bed, alone, together.

But he didn’t want to horn in on Emma’s opportunity to forge that personal relationship with Lacey right now, either.

“Actually, I’m going to wait out here,” he said as they reached a split-rail fence that surrounded grass outside the store. “You ladies go ahead and buy some of that romance goat’s milk soap.”

Emma shot him a grateful smile as they disappeared into the storefront. Mark leaned against the rail and looked around at the crowd of tourists and locals. Mostly tourists, he’d guess. Which was remarkable. This island had really changed. It was home, but it wasn’t. He could actually see himself—

“Hey, I know you.”

Mark turned at the sound of a man’s voice, instantly recognizing those narrow shoulders and horn-rimmed glasses. Son of a bitch, it was Kyle Chambers.

“Lacey’s judgmental friend.” Kyle took a slow step closer, a woman next to him looking at Mark as if he was one of the animals in the petting zoo.

“Hi,” she said with a friendly smile. “I’m Rachel. How do you guys know each other?” She was tiny, not five-two, with blond curls and big blue eyes. She looked like a Kewpie doll, all bright and cheery.

“We don’t,” Mark said, his mind spinning through all the options for how to get out of there, with Emma, and away from these two.

“What is your problem, man?” Kyle asked, not moving but looking hard at Mark. “Are you some kind of spy for Lacey Walker?” A whiff of beer came at Mark, and reddish eyes narrowed.

Great, the lying scum was drunk.

“Nope.” Mark took a step closer to the door, eyeing the opening to make sure Emma didn’t walk into the middle of this.

“Every time I turn around, you’re there,” Kyle said, coming too close. “What is up with that?”

“Gosh, Kyle, you don’t have to be a jerk,” Rachel said. “He’s just standing here minding his own business.”

Mark moved away, walking purposely inside the store without making another second of eye contact. Surely the woman would lead Kyle away, and Mark would keep Emma in the shop as long as he could.

The store smelled like a woman’s lingerie drawer, a mix of sweet and spicy fragrances. He glanced into the crowd, past groups of people around bins and stacks of soaps, spotting Lacey and Emma at a display near the door.

“Hey,” he said, putting his hand on Emma’s back. “I decided to look around a bit after all.”

She turned, surprised, and maybe just a tad annoyed at the interruption, which he couldn’t blame her for. “Why?”

“For a gift,” he said quickly, hating that it sounded like the lie it was. “I thought maybe we can find something for Linda and Wayne.”

“Oh, okay.”

“They have great gift sets in the back, Mark,” Lacey said. “I’ll show you.”

“Come with me,” he said, adding pressure to Emma’s shoulder. He could hide her in the back if Kyle walked in.

Emma gave him a strange look, but let him guide her along with Lacey.

He cursed himself the whole way. Why the hell hadn’t he told her about Kyle? Now it could all blow up in his face. And Emma’s. Shit, her job and her heart could implode in one random meeting, and it would be all his fault.

“This way, Mark,” Lacey said, gesturing him around a six-foot-high display to a wall in the back. Perfect. “They have samplers in different fragrances.”

He glanced over his shoulder to check the door, aware of Emma looking at him.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“I just…don’t want to miss the beginning of the game.”

She drew her brows together. “But you want to buy a gift.”

Then, over her shoulder, he saw Kyle and Rachel enter the store.

Son of a bitch. How could this be happening?

“These are really cute,” Lacey said, pointing at some soap. “Who is the gift for again?”

“Kyle,” he whispered, trying not to stare at the man.

“Excuse me?” Emma asked.

“I mean, um, Wayne. My…my former father-in-law. And his fiancée.”

“Julia’s dad is getting married?” Lacey asked.

As Kyle and Rachel came deeper into the store, Mark put a protective arm around Emma and eased her around, using the display of soaps to get her out of Kyle’s line of vision.

And that move earned a quick look of
what the hell?
from Emma, but he would have to explain later. He just didn’t want them all to slam into each other. Kyle and Emma and Rachel and Lacey and
shit
.

“There’s a ton to pick from,” Lacey said, pointing to another stack of soap. “But I have to run and grab my guys before the game starts. I’ll see you two in there. We have a huge section in the bleachers, Emma, so maybe we can talk some more. Otherwise…” She gave Emma’s arm a quick squeeze. “See you tomorrow.”

Lacey stepped out from behind the display just as Emma peered up at him. “I was kind of making progress with her.”

“I know, I’m sorry, but I had to—”

“Lacey Walker! Imagine seeing you here!”

The man’s voice from behind the display was like a hammer to Mark’s head. But his reaction was nothing compared to Emma’s. First, she blinked, startled.

“I can’t believe I’m running into you here, Lacey!”

“Oh, hello, Kyle.”

Then Emma paled, as her first impossible thought was proven right.

“I saw him outside,” Mark mouthed to her.

“Let me introduce you to my girlfriend, Rachel Howell.”

Then her jaw dropped and hung wide open. “His—”

Mark put a finger on her mouth to silence her.

“Lacey, about our conversation the other day,” Kyle said. “Do you have a second?”

“I don’t, actually.”

“But I just need to tell you one thing.”

That instant, Rachel popped around the display and saw Mark. “Oh, it’s you,” she said, her pixie face brightening. “I’m sorry my boyfriend was rude to you before. I—”

“Hey, Rach, come here, honey,” Kyle stepped around the display. “I want you to tell Lacey what…” His voice trailed off as he glanced at Mark, then he turned as pale as Emma when his gaze moved to her. “What…are you doing here?”

And then, just to ice the cake, Lacey joined the party. “Oh, do you all know each other?” she asked brightly.

Mark could have sworn Emma swayed a little.

Chapter Twenty-three

Surreal.

It was the only word that popped into Emma’s head as she tried to process the dreamlike sequence of events, but nothing would register as reality.

It couldn’t be real.

Blood pumped in her head so loud she couldn’t hear what anyone was saying, even though everyone seemed to talk at the same time.