Long Way Home (4 page)

“What’s Joey like?” she asked. She knew very little about autism and wasn’t sure what to expect when she met him.

Her father stopped eating and Alexis immediately sensed this was not a welcome topic of conversation.

“He’s a wonderful little boy,” her mother told her. “A lot of work, but wonderful.”

“It’s a damn shame,” her father grumbled.

“Now, Greg…”

“What a waste. The kid is built like a brick house. Would have made a helluva defensive tackle.”

“Do the other boys understand that Joey is different?” asked Alexis.

“Of course, especially Owen. He’s clever.” Tilly chuckled. “Well, you met him.”

“Too clever for his own good,” Greg said.

Alexis bristled. “He’s four. How can he be too clever for his own good?”

“Oh, I forget who I’m talking to here.” Greg dug back into his dinner.

Alexis pushed back her chair. “Thanks for dinner, Mom. I’m going to head out for a bit, if you don’t mind.”

Greg eyed her. “Really? You’re asking permission to run out the door? That’s new.”

Tilly glanced at her husband with a sigh. “It’s fine, dear.”

Alexis moved quickly through the hall to reclaim her jacket. She felt the familiar tightness in her chest and knew that she needed some time to decompress.

“She’s got a helluva nerve,” she heard her father say. A statement she’d heard many times as a child. Her expression went flat as she grabbed her handbag and escaped into the crisp, night air.

A short golf cart ride later, Alexis found herself heading toward the south end of the island, admiring the festive lights and welcoming wreaths that adorned the pretty houses in the Costa Azul neighborhood. She’d always liked Costa Azul. Unlike Castaway Cove, where she’d grown up, Costa Azul was blessed with the older, larger Spanish-style houses. The island had been settled by the Spanish in the late eighteenth century, with the southern end being favored by its inhabitants. As a result, Costa Azul and Flamingo Key had the lion’s share of character properties.

The area was eerily familiar and yet completely foreign to her. She saw movement as she passed by the various windows, evidence of life carrying on within the four walls of those houses, and Alexis felt a sharp pang of jealousy. A small, inviting restaurant caught her attention. The Blue Heron. The recommendation from Marty, the water taxi operator, came back to her and she allowed herself to be enticed inside.

Chapter Three

The moment she stepped into the bar, Tyler saw her and his entire world went silent. He no longer heard the chatter of bar patrons or the crunching of ice in glasses. The background music faded away. Even the beating of his heart stilled.

It had been seventeen years since he’d last seen her, yet he recognized her instantly. She was as beautiful now as she’d been in high school. Her glossy, chocolate-colored hair was still shoulder-length and, although she was slightly fuller in the body now, Tyler thought the curves suited her. Tyler was not the kind of guy who objected to curves. Deep down, he was relieved. Alexis MacAdams had always been his ideal beauty, his artistic muse, and he couldn’t bear to think of her any other way. Now he didn’t have to.

Alexis stood in the foyer and surveyed the inside. It was modern but cozy. Dark wooden tables of varying shapes and sizes contrasted nicely with creamy white walls. Not too tropical, but not trying too hard to be urban. The interior was tastefully decorated for the holidays with a few small, white lights and holly sprigs. Alexis decided this place would do for a temporary escape. She bypassed the restaurant area and headed straight for the bar.

Dressed in a red, silk blouse and black trousers, she didn’t exactly blend into the casual crowd of flip-flops and floral dresses. She chose a tall chair at the end of the bar, next to a cluster of women enjoying a night out on the island in the run up to Christmas. Judging by the way they were throwing back shots, she guessed they were from the mainland.

“I know you,” Tyler said with an easy smile, moving to her end of the bar.

Alexis assumed it was a come-on. “Don’t think so.”

“Oh, but I do. Alexis MacAdams, valedictorian of Woodrow Wilson High School. Class of…”

Before he could remind her of her age, she jumped in. “Okay, I stand corrected. I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.”

“Ty Barnes. Former classmate.”

Alexis studied him briefly, his well-defined build and sandy hair, and tried to trigger memories of high school. His eyes burned with an attractive intensity. Even in the dimly lit bar, his eyes were the bluest she’d ever seen. She was sure he wouldn’t have had those biceps in high school. Arms like those belonged to a man, not a boy. She’d worked hard to keep the past buried, though, and knew it was unlikely she’d churn up a name to go with those incredible blue eyes.

“I’m really sorry,” she said with a small shake of her head.

“No worries. I mean, I haven’t seen you since we graduated. You look amazing.” He knew he should probably reel in his enthusiasm, but he couldn’t help himself. He was still suffering from the shock of seeing her again.

“Thank you. I’ll just say you haven’t changed a bit and call it even.”

“Ah, but I have. More meat on the bones. I was so thin in high school, I was practically invisible.” He chuckled. “Apparently, I was invisible.”

Despite her bleak mood, Alexis found herself warming to him. “Don’t take it personally. I don’t remember much from high school, except that I was desperate to leave. It seems like another lifetime.”

“Join Facebook. Everybody’s there and there’s nowhere to hide. You can relive high school every day on your computer or phone or whatever device you’re permanently attached to.” He shook his head ruefully.

“If I’m on my computer, it’s because I’m working,” she said. “No distractions allowed.”

He brightened. “Are you a writer? That’s what you were into, wasn’t it?”

Alexis registered disbelief. She wasn’t used to being caught off-guard. Between Owen and this guy, she felt completely unsettled.

“I used to write poems,” she admitted reluctantly. “How do you remember that? Hell, I barely remember.”

“I played guitar. I guess I paid attention to the people who seemed to have similar interests. I still write and play music. That’s how I started bartending, so I could stay flexible but pay the bills. Now I just enjoy doing both.” He leaned casually against the bar and Alexis suspected he passed many an evening like this, chatting to pretty women. “How about you?”

“Well, I’m definitely not a poet.”

He appeared so crestfallen that she almost felt sorry to disappoint him. “Oh, that’s too bad. I was sure you’d do it. Fire in the belly and all.”

Tyler paused to let the memory in. Even as a teenager, he’d admired her focus. She’d had a fiery determination that other girls lacked. He’d found her sexy as a teenager and he definitely found her sexy now.

“Fire in the belly?” she repeated.

“You were always on the go. Could never tell whether you were running toward something or away from it.”

She smiled wryly. “A bit of both, I would say.”

“So what do you do now?”

“I’m a whore,” she announced after a dramatic pause.

Tyler raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate. He was confident that Alexis MacAdams had not turned to prostitution.

“Well, I screw people for money. Same thing.”

He wagged a finger at her. “Ah, you must work for the government.”

“Close. Greedy, fat cat lawyer at your service.” She tilted her chin thoughtfully. “Actually, I’m not at your service, unless you own some multi-million dollar conglomerate that I’m not aware of.”

Tyler leaned forward and rested his elbows on the bar. “You had me at whore.”

Alexis’s faint smile broadened, her first genuine smile in a long while, and Tyler was glad to see the scowl dissipate. God, he remembered that smile. It was all he could do not to lean that little bit further and close the gap between them.

“So do you actually tend bar or are you here for window dressing?”

He snapped back to reality, drawing himself up to his full six feet. “I’m sorry, I’m neglecting your alcohol-related needs. Let me guess,” he said, assessing her. “Some kind of ‘tini. Appletini?”

“Isn’t that a risky way to ask for an order? Potentially insulting customers?”

“Am I wrong?” he asked, with a crooked smile.

“Whiskey, please.”

He doubled over as if wounded. “Ouch. You’ve destroyed my average.”

“I’ve heard that a lot in bars.” The lie slid from her lips with ease. The truth was that Alexis rarely spent time in bars, even in her twenties when she was flush with cash and single. It suddenly dawned on her that, not only was he flirting with her, but she was flirting with him. In a bar. In her hometown. The moment felt surreal.

“No chaser?” he queried.

She cocked an eyebrow, challenging him. “I like to feel the burn.”

“An actual fire in the belly,” he mused. “I like it. Is Jameson all right?”

“Perfect.”

He poured her drink, added a drop of water, and slid it across the bar to her. “I have to admit, I’m relieved. I hate making those cocktails. Thankfully, most people on the island have simpler taste.”

“I’ve never been a cocktail girl. Too sweet.”

“Are you trying to tell me you’re not sweet?” he teased.

Alexis tasted the whiskey. It burned through her core and warmed her from the inside out. “I may be a lot of things, but I don’t think sweet has ever been on the list.”

Tyler didn’t doubt it. For him, her aloofness had been part of her charm. She may have been the girl in the next neighborhood, but she was far from the girl next door. He’d walked around in awe of her, which is probably why he’d never gathered the courage to ask her out. She hadn’t been accessible, partly because she seemed to exist in her own reality, and partly because he’d built her up in his mind to mythic proportions. Back then, simply spotting Alexis from a distance had turned him on. Seeing her seated directly across from him now had Tyler’s entire body humming.

“Listen, I can be finished in an hour. Do you want to hang around and take a walk after? Catch up. I’d love to hear about your life in the real world.”

There was no way he was letting her walk out of the bar without trying to make an impression. He was older and wiser and had known enough women to realize that, for him, Alexis MacAdams remained the gold standard.

Alexis took a deep swig of her whiskey and, to her own amazement, found herself agreeing. It wasn’t like her to participate in idle chit-chat, certainly not with a guy from high school she couldn’t remember. On the other hand, the more hours she spent here were fewer hours she’d have to spend feeling uncomfortable in her parents’ house. A win-win as far as she was concerned.

Under a moonless sky, Alexis and Tyler strolled through Costa Azul, deep in conversation. Talking to him was easy and pleasant, a far cry from the type of conversations Alexis had with her family.

“London sounds incredible,” he told her. “I’d like to go someday.”

“If you like New York, then you’d definitely like it. Parts of it, anyway. New York and London are soul sisters, I think.”

“Then London is the much cooler, much older sister.”

“I think New York would be happy as the hipper, younger sister,” she said.

“Ha! As far as I can tell, New York’s never happy about anything,” Tyler joked, recalling a particular visit that involved an angry Mets fan and a dislocated jaw.

“It should sample a grim London winter and thank its lucky stars and stripes.”

“You seem to like New York,” he remarked. “Why did you move across the ocean? You could have been a three hour flight from your family instead of a transatlantic one.”

Alexis shrugged. “Opportunity knocked and I answered.” She didn’t want to get into details, especially not with someone who never moved off the island. She doubted he would understand her need to escape.

“Do you like being a lawyer?” he asked. “I can’t imagine myself at a desk all day. Too constraining.” His broad shoulders twitched uncomfortably at the thought.

“It has its advantages,” Alexis admitted.

“Like what, a fat paycheck to cover an inflated mortgage and a pricey foreign car?” Tyler scoffed. “No thanks, I live in paradise without signing my life away. The cost of living is decent. I own my home. I surf, kayak, and play music every chance I get. It’s a damn good life.”

“Don’t you want to make it big, though? Is playing in bars on Mangrove Island enough for you?” Alexis asked.

“There was a time when I thought I wanted to be signed to a label, but times have changed. I don’t need to play to make a living. I play because it’s my passion and I’d do it whether I had two listeners or two million.”

“Okay, then what about the limited dating pool? Haven’t you dated every eligible female on the island by now?”

“What makes you think I’m in the dating pool?” he asked.

Alexis grew flushed. She assumed that he was single. “Aren’t you?”

He took a brief moment to enjoy her discomfort. “Between tending bar, playing music, and hanging out at the beach, meeting women isn’t exactly a problem. Finding one I want to spend the rest of my life with, well, that’s another story.” A story that featured his eternal flame for her, although Tyler thought it best to keep that part to himself for now.

“I think it’s great that you haven’t settled,” she said sincerely. “You’ve stayed true to yourself. Few people manage that.”

“I guess you work such long hours, you probably don’t have time to meet anyone.”

“I definitely work long hours,” she said, ignoring the latter part of his statement.

Her mood shifted and Tyler sensed that she was retreating. He desperately wanted to reel her back in. “So, in all your travels, have you been anywhere quite like here?” he asked.

“Ask me again in daylight,” she said.

Alexis felt the light breeze tickle her neck and gazed up at the barely visible stars, blanketed by the dark sky. She had to admit, the island had a certain charm that she’d forgotten, or maybe never chose to acknowledge. She sighed deeply.