No Tan Lines (29 page)

No surprises there. She raised an eyebrow. “What’s on your iPod?”

“Sophie keeps me in music,” he said easily. “She loves the opera and classical music. I’m listening to
The Best of Andrea Bocelli
at the moment.”

“I’m blasting Cyndi Lauper. ‘Girls just wanna have fun,’ ” she sang the lyric.

“You have enough fun for ten people.”

They both exhaled at the same time, then grinned at each other. So far, so good, she thought. “I cook, but not often.”

“I like to grill.”

She had one pet peeve. “Would you change which end of the toothpaste tube you squeeze, if it was important to me?” She was methodic, always squeezing from the bottom and rolling the tube forward. Quirky, perhaps, but that was her way.

He nodded, agreeable. “I’m fine with the toothpaste and promise to rinse the sink after I shave. I’ll put the toilet seat down and give you full control of the toilet paper. It’s your call if the sheets roll over or under.”

She had one final thought. “Maybe we should get a reading from Madame Aleta.” In Shaye’s world, psychic validation was important.

“Maybe we should trust our own feelings.”

“Maybe ...” She made no promise. If she walked past her aunt’s shop, she just might stop in.

Trace read her mind and rolled his eyes at her. “She’ll tell you what we both know,” he said. “Nothing will ever be perfect between us, we won’t even come close, but perfection is overrated.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I love you, Shaye Cates. I want you as my best friend as well as my lover. I have every intention of marrying you.”

Her eyes rounded. “Is that a proposal?”

“I’m making it official.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You have until morning,” he said.

“I could use some convincing.”

“We’re down to one condom.”

“Then we’ll have to get creative.”

Trace had lots of ideas.

Afterward they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

“Rise and shine,”
Olive squawked. She’d left her cage and now flew into the master bedroom to perch on the nautical carved headboard. She cocked her feathered head.
“Morning, Big Guns. M-mmm.”

Shaye couldn’t help grinning. The Quaker always called Trace Big Guns, adding a moan. Fortunately he didn’t seem to mind. He merely shook his head.

“Feed me,”
the parrot requested.

Trace stretched, yawned, and said, “I’m hungry, too.”

“I have eggs, toast, strawberries, and sunflower seeds,” she said.

“I’ll take the first three.”

“
Seeds,”
came from Olive.

Shaye eased out of bed. A night of sex was great, but she was more than a little sore. Trace was a big man, and she’d stretched muscles she never knew she had. He made her shiver and gasp, and she nearly lost consciousness. Sleep was overrated.

She quickly showered, dressed, and moved to the galley. Olive was served first in her cage, a slice of strawberry and six sunflower seeds. “
Yummy
,” she thanked Shaye.

Scrambled eggs and rye toast brought Trace to the small café table. Shaye set a bowl of berries in the center and went on to pull the shades against the morning sun. Had she been alone, she would have left them open so she could appreciate the sunrise. But the sight of a Saunders sitting at her breakfast table would draw serious stares should anyone pass by.

Trace wore a black polo and jeans, casual attire for him. She’d offered him closet space, and he now used a few hangers. She liked him laid-back and relaxed.

He ate slowly, eyeing her the entire time. She shifted in her chair, squirming a little. His stare was hot, sexy, and required an answer to his late-night question:
would she marry him?

She let him sweat until they were on their second cup of coffee. “Yes,” she said, looking at him over the rim of her cup.

He smiled, equally relieved and satisfied. “Let’s set a date—how about two weeks from today?” he suggested.

Her heart skipped a beat, and her words ran together. “Why so soon? That doesn’t give me much time. I have a lot to do.”

“Very little, actually, if I know you,” he said. He reached for her hand and slid his fingers through hers. “It will be an informal wedding. We’ll get married on the beach. I doubt you’ll even wear shoes.”

“What about invitations?” she asked, sounding panicky. “A reception?”

“Meet with my assistant, Martin,” he said. “He has countless connections. Tell him what you want, and he’ll make it happen.”

“I want you,” she said, the words rising from the bottom of her heart.

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “Right back at you, Shaye Cates.”

She ate the last of her toast before saying, “We’ll need to tell our families, and that won’t be easy. A hundred years of mistrust won’t vanish overnight.”

“Not everyone will be happy,” he agreed. “Let’s start by talking to my parents, then we’ll meet with your grandfather. Hopefully someone will give his blessing.”

“What if no one does?” That was her greatest fear.

“Then it’s up to us,” he said. He leaned back in his chair and grew thoughtful. “Do we let history dictate our future, or do we set our own destiny?”

She didn’t have an answer for him.

Eleven

T
he family visits did not go well.

Shaye had been aware of her own family’s grudge against the Saunders clan all her life, yet not until she faced Trace’s parents did she fully understand their own aversion to her relatives. It was definitely two-sided.

The hour in their company was tense and eye-opening. Brandt and Maya didn’t mince words. The four of them met in a living room so large that Shaye could’ve gotten lost rounding the crescent-shaped couch.

The view from the floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the yacht harbor, a tennis court, and tiered landscaping with manicured hedges and exotic flowers. The view was pristine and perfect, lifted straight from
Town and Country
magazine.

They were served iced tea in tall crystal glasses etched with an
S
. Finger sandwiches and thin slices of a tropical fruit pie were served on a sterling silver tray. The food was artfully arranged, in a look-but-don’t-eat display.

Shaye went with iced tea, as did Trace.

The food sat untouched.

His parents were stiffly polite and spoke directly to their son. Shaye felt invisible. They reminded him that his heritage had been established when Evan Saunders brought commerce to the Gulf Coast. His ancestor had been a developer with foresight. Saunders Shores had grown, prospered, and was listed by
Forbes
as the wealthiest resort community in the country.

They went on to note that Barefoot William was still nothing more than a fishing village with outdoor amusements.

They recognized that the volleyball tournament had benefited the town but didn’t see the effects as long lasting. They stressed that their beach was closed to a future rental.

His father firmly stated that a merger between the two families would be a win for the Cateses but detrimental to them. Barefoot William would prove a financial drain on Saunders Shores.

Shaye and Trace left his family home with stilted goodbyes. Maya pleaded with Trace to reconsider the marriage. He told his mother the wedding would proceed as planned. They’d receive an invitation shortly. It was their choice whether to attend or not.

He wrapped his arm about Shaye’s shoulders during the walk from the house to his sports car. His strength and warmth shored up her confidence.

“Your parents don’t like me much,” she told him as he opened the passenger door on his Porsche and she lowered herself into a buttery soft leather seat that molded to her bottom.

“You’re a Cates,” he said, being logical and practical and the perfect man to ease her mind. “We’ve gone from enemies to getting married in a very short time,” he reminded her. “We’ve kept our relationship secret. My folks weren’t even aware we were seeing each other until today.”

“Surprise, surprise,” Shaye said as she fastened her seat belt. “I saw the shock on their faces firsthand.”

They drove for twenty minutes, soon turning down a rural winding road that led to her Grandfather Frank’s stilt home. He lived ten miles from the beach, preferring to distance himself from the tourist trade.

The older man took their news while seated on a porch swing overlooking a small orange orchard. He was a widower of twenty years and as close to Shaye as her own father.

Her parents had begun traveling as soon as their children graduated from high school. During their frequent absences, she had gravitated toward her granddad, and he’d become her confidant and moral compass.

Her grandfather had taught her to play cribbage and bridge. He beat her at horseshoes. He was the only person she knew who still had a phonograph and played vinyl records. He loved listening to Sinatra. As a kid, Shaye memorized the lyrics to “Fly Me to the Moon” and “The Way You Look Tonight.”

They both loved Barefoot William and treated the town like a relative. That was their strongest bond.

Grandfather Frank had offered them freshly squeezed orange juice and cranberry-orange muffins, which they both declined. Shaye clutched the wicker arms on her fan-backed chair as she spoke of her future with Trace.

Her granddad listened with his head bent, shoulders slumped, and his expression pained. He seemed to age ten years before her eyes. He did not take the news well. He was obviously skeptical and disheartened that his granddaughter would even consider a Cates-Saunders marriage. Had she lost her mind?

What hit Shaye the hardest was when he turned and fixed her with a piercing look. “Are you really willing to give up Barefoot William for this man?” he asked sternly, making it clear that, as far as he was concerned, there was no middle ground. His question felt like a physical punch.

She wasn’t an emotional woman, yet at that moment she was so upset, she couldn’t answer. She forced back tears.

When they left her grandfather, Trace offered to return her to the houseboat. Once there, he held her tightly as she gave way to emotion.

“Shh, shh,” he soothed. “We can work through the family theatrics, Shaye. You’ll see, all of this will sort itself out with time.”

Shaye wanted to believe him, but a part of her knew the life she now lived had come to an end. Her heart broke with the thought. She felt beaten down and off balance and needed to be alone.

“Time—you’re right. I need a few days to sort through my feelings. Can you give me that, Trace? Just until the all-star challenge?” she pleaded.

Shaye could tell he wasn’t happy to leave her, but in the end, he respected her wishes, leaving her to pace the length of her houseboat as she tried to work out which was more awful, alienating her family or losing Trace.

“Marry me, Shaye,”
Olive mimicked in a deep, masculine voice. She sounded exactly like Trace. The Quaker walked her perch and flapped her wings as Shaye prepared for the all-star challenge.
“Marry me, marry me.”

“Olive, please, not now,” said Shaye.

“Please and thank you,”
the parrot squawked.

Shaye rubbed the back of her neck. She’d spent the last few days looking at her choices from every angle. Being an adult wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Making grown-up decisions was often terrifying.

Family was all-important to her, yet Trace filled a place in her heart that had been empty far too long. In the end, she’d realized she didn’t want to live without him. He was all that mattered.

He challenged her and made her crazy.

She wanted to punch him most days.

But there was no way she could live without him.

Even if it meant sacrifice.

They might not live happily ever after among relatives and friends, but being happy with each other meant just as much.

She showered and dressed in a
Topaz Tarpon
T-shirt, jeans washed white at the knees, and a pair of
Barefoot William
flip-flops. She grabbed a pack of throat lozenges, in case she got hoarse from cheering.

She drew Olive to her cage with a slice of fresh peach.
“Yum, m-mm,”
the parrot said with a throaty moan.

Shaye needed to remember to close her bedroom door when Trace and she made love. Olive had heard too much.

She caught a ride with Kai and Nicole to the ballpark. Kai was calm, while Nicole fluttered like a mother hen. She hoped their boys would perform well, but, more important, she wanted them to have a good time. Win or lose, the team would enjoy pizza and ice cream after the game.

The parking lot was packed, and the walk to Saunders Field was slow. The recreational facility was large by Barefoot William standards. The scent of freshly mowed grass on the warm, summer breeze promised an exciting evening of youth baseball. They passed the visitors’ locker room, and Shaye fell in behind the Tarpons. She caught bits of their conversation.

“—
five
urinals—”

“—private lockers with combination locks—”

“—showers—”

“—feels like the World Series.”

The kids were excited and awed. Their own Gulf Field was old and in need of an overhaul. It had withstood forty seasons of baseball. The scoreboard had cracked so much that the final score was no longer visible. The fencing dipped, and the bleachers sagged. They’d run out of chalk to mark the baselines.

No matter the condition of their park, their team spirit could not be denied. They were there to play their hearts out.

Nicole and Kai headed for the dugout. Shaye watched as the team clustered around Nicole, waiting for her pregame pep talk. They all adored her. She would be the first crush for several of them. Kai didn’t mind; he couldn’t take his gaze off her either.

Nicole looked sporty in her
Topaz Tarpon
T-shirt, white walking shorts, and white Keds. She wore as much jewelry to the ballpark as she did in her shop. Every piece glistened beneath the bright outdoor lights.