Salt Water Wounds (Oyster Cove #1) (5 page)

Chapter 5

After threatening to skin the man who arrived with my daughter, I watch Bristol storm into the house acting as if I have no right to reprimand her.

She slams her bedroom door in my face, and then proceeds to scream at the top of her lungs.

If I didn’t have company I’d kick through the door and raise hell, but I’m not about to come off as violent, not after what Perry’s gone through. Instead of making a scene, I fetch the ingredients for dinner and find my way to the back deck. If Bristol got a tattoo it’s somewhere I couldn’t see it. I don’t know if that makes me happy or more salty.

I make grilling look easy, but honestly it’s the only way I know how to cook, other than steam seafood. One would find it hard to believe, but in the dead of winter I’m out on this deck cooking meat for my crew at least four days out of the week.

While Perry stares in the distance at the water, I keep a mindful watch. She’s not crying anymore, but a weak sniffle escapes her every now and again.

Today only proves she’s bad for me.

After several silent minutes I break the silence. “How’s corn?”

She turns her head in my direction while responding. “You don’t have to feed us.”

“Nonsense.”

“We like corn. Neither of us are picky.”

I pick up a grocery bag and hand it to her. “Shuck the ears, and I’ll toss them on the fire for a few minutes.”

She starts the task, finally beginning to relax. “Thanks again for letting us crash, Buck. I haven’t been on this side of the island in a long time.” She lets out an air-filled laugh. “It’s funny how I’ve been back for years and only stay within a mile of my house, unless I spend the day on Assateague at the beach. I like driving my moped as much as I can and letting the air smack against my face. It’s invigorating.”

Chincoteague Island is located on the Chincoteague Bay, but if you drive across to the next island of Assateague, that ends at the Atlantic Ocean with a beach as far as the eyes can see, and plenty of wild ponies. “I haven’t been to the beach in a while. Work keeps me from simple pleasures.”

“Yet you make it to the bar,” she adds.

I grin. “Yeah, well after a hard day it helps me settle down. What happened with my daughter is an every day event here. Just wait and see how bad it gets when the boys come home.”

“I bet.” She snickers. “I always tease Nick that he can never leave, but I think he’ll probably go the day he turns eighteen. I just hope he has enough sense to steer clear of his father.”

“Does he know what you’ve been through?”

“A little. As much as I hate his father, I can’t bring myself to break his heart. Even at the worst, right before he was arrested for the assault, I hid a lot of my injuries. He thinks he hasn’t done enough to me to warrant us hiding from him. Sometimes I wonder if he assumes I’m the bad guy.”

I grit my teeth as she says it, clenching my jaw to avoid saying something out of place. It’s not my business, but I’m inclined to take the boy by his collar and shake the living shit out of him until he opens his eyes. This woman is petrified. Surely he has to see that. “How old is he?”

“Sixteen.”

“Maybe you should sit him down and let it all out.”

She’s stopped shucking the corn and is sitting on a chair rubbing her temples. “I don’t know how.”

“Start with the truth. You’re his mother. He trusts you. Look, I’m not the world’s best parent, but I’d want my kids to know the truth, no matter how difficult it was for them to take. You can’t go through this alone. Whether the guy leaves and never comes back, or sticks around to raise hell, you need to inform your son. God forbid something happen…” I stop before my foot goes further into my mouth.

For a few minutes we’re both quiet. I already know she’s upset with what I’ve said to her. The next time she speaks she’s withdrawn, talking in an almost murmur. “I wasn’t sure until I saw her earlier, but I think you should know.”

“What?”

“Your daughter. I’ve seen her before. Actually,” she pauses. “It took me a second to place her, because it’s been several months, but I’m sure.”

“You know her? She works at the Creamery.”

“I don’t go there. The lines are too long in the summer, and I’d rather eat ice cream in my pajamas in the winter.” She comes to stand next to me at the grill. “Buck, she’s got a fake I.D.”

“Bullshit.” It’s not that I don’t believe her. Bristol is rebellious. Trouble finds her without effort, so it seems. “Did you serve her?”

“It was a busy night. I had a band playing. I didn’t keep track of what she and her friends were drinking, but I’m sure she was there to drink. Why else would you have a fake I.D.?”

I’m furious. This adds to the lists of reasons my daughter needs to be kept in a jail cell until the day she turns at least twenty-one. “Just tell me this. Was she with one of her brothers?”

Perry shakes her head. I’ve been in the bar when the boys come in after a long day. With the exception of the twins, which I know she’d still recognize, three of them are old enough to drink.

“No. She was with that same guy on the bike. That’s when I realized it was her. I remember he gave us trouble on another occasion.”

My fists are balled. I’m ready to kill someone. “Tell me you got his name.”

She looks down with disappointment. “I’m sorry. I can’t remember. It’s been a while. I see a lot of people, and with the tourists there’s no telling how I could remember everyone. I’m good with faces, but terrible with names.”

I keep working on the chicken, while taking each ear of corn from the table and placing them strategically on the open grill. This chick means well, but the second she’s gone, Bristol is in for a world of punishment. For now she’s locked herself in her room, where I hope she’ll stay for the rest of the night, so I don’t have to add heart failure to my already shitty day. “I appreciate you telling me.”

“Tell me you have some beer. I didn’t think about getting any.”

“I’ve got beer. It’s in the fridge, but if you want something to take the edge off, there’s a liquor cabinet in the kitchen pantry. The combination is today’s date, followed by a sixty.”

She smiles. “You lock your liquor?”

My brow cocks. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep liquor in a house full of watermen and teenagers? I’m a pretty crappy dad, but I don’t want any of them thinking it’s okay with me if they get into my stash.”

“What’s your poison tonight, Buck? I’ll make us both something, seeing as we’re in the same boat.”

I snarl. She knows exactly what I need to settle down from learning more shit about my daughter. “Surprise me.” A part of me wishes we could throw caution to the wind, get drunk and end up in the sack, but I know it will never happen.

Perry pats my shoulder as she walks by. I turn and watch her saunter into the house. Catching a glimpse of her supple ass, I begin to feel aroused. I’m not going to lie and say I don’t enjoy her figure, especially when I’m about to lose my shit and need a distraction, but that’s as far as it can go.

So I keep having to remind myself.

While she’s gone, my mind is still on Bristol. I can’t babysit her twenty-four hours out of the day, and with my boys all managing my boats this upcoming summer, I know the workload will double. For some reason I can’t stop thinking about Perry’s predicament. Eventually the boys are going to want to take over my business. The idea of sitting around with nothing to do only worries me further. How in the hell will I handle that? I currently stay busy so I’m not fixated on my constant broken heart. It’s probably a terrible idea, but I think I may want to try something new, something that can be mine, that I won’t have to share with my kids. They can do the hard labor on the water, while I try my hands at a new trade.

Perry comes out with two cold bottles of beer in her hands. “This was easier.”

I take a swig before responding. The chill of the alcohol pours down my throat, giving me a second to get the courage to inquire. “About the bar. Were you serious about selling it?”

She shrugs and plays with the label, peeling the corner of it as she replies. “It would solve a lot of my problems, but from a legal standpoint I’m not sure it’s possible. I’d have to look into some things before I could give a definite answer.”

“How would your dad feel about it?”

“He’ll be pissed at me, not you. You’ll still pay him rent for the building, but the rest is in my name with contingencies. We couldn’t use my personal information. It’s set up as Perry LTD. I wanted to make sure I couldn’t be located.”

“Good call, considering the circumstances. It’s a shame you’ve gone so many years with peace and wake up one day to this shit.”

“You’ve got that right. I guess I should have been prepared. I got comfortable, Buck. Isn’t that how it happens? When we let our guard down life drops bombs on us?”

“Yeah, I reckon it does.”

“So, you think you might be interested?”

I shrug and take another sip of beer. “Possibly.”

“Give me a couple days to get things figured out. This is sudden and I don’t want to make mistakes, especially when it comes to my finances. I’ve managed to screw up most aspects of my life, and considering I’m already in debt, I’d need to make selling the business worth my while. I don’t want to jump the gun and come out still owing my ass.”

“Smart move. I’d do the same thing. Keep me in the loop about it.”

Thunder rumbles in the distance. An evening storm is rolling in. I can tell because the smell of the salt water seems stronger with the breeze, and the leaves have turned upside down as they blow around. It’s something I’ve picked up after living on the island my whole life. Maybe it’s a southern thing. I’m told we talk with an accent, and some of the things we say are downright country.

“Storm is coming.” She obviously noticed at the same time.

“Yeah. I heard it too.”

She giggles. “I’m talking about the weather. Isn’t that what people do when things are awkward?”

I lean over the railing beside her. “I wouldn’t know.”

She nudges me. “Come on, Buck. I’ve been hitting on you for years. If I had to pick a place to hide out this wouldn’t be my first choice. You’re always giving me the cold shoulder. You were there, and I wasn’t exactly thinking rationally, but I’m glad we came here. I know we’re safe, at least for tonight. You don’t have to act like you’re not kicking yourself in the ass for agreeing to it. This has to be a bit weird; you and me, sharing a beer at your house.”

I peer directly in those brown eyes and say what I’m thinking. “I’m not kicking myself in the ass at all, if that’s what you’re implying. Honestly, your problems make mine look like they’re child’s play, so I’m entertained.” I finish with a chuckle before emptying the bottle of beer.

Perry shoves me playfully. “Way to make a woman feel better about her predicament.”

I lift my brow followed with a wink. “Any time, sweetness. Any time.”

Chapter 6

Buck Wallace has always been a challenge for me. It’s not like he plays hard to get. HE IS HARD TO GET.

I’ve never been one to stereotype, but most waterman have one thing in common. They like the company of a woman, especially after a hard day. It’s like a right of passage for them. They expect it.

Not Buck. He’s old school, not to mention still hung up on the wife he lost years ago. In a lot of ways I appreciate his devotion. It’s admirable, but at the same time pathetically sad.

It’s been years and he refuses to move on. What’s worse is the fact that he’d probably be a fun guy to date if he let himself. There’s always been something between us. For years I’ve taunted and made suggestions to get a rise out of him. He’s everything I’d love to have in a man, with a touch of kindness on the side.

Being that I’m here, in this terrible position, I’m searching for reasons not to make a move. He’s obviously earned a green light as far as waiting the allotted time since losing his wife, and let’s face it, the touch of a good man in this town is impossible to find.

People talk, or have talked. They label me as a slut. Sure, I’ve slept with a few men who frequent the bar, men I grew up with, two of which I slept with in high school. The number of men I’ve shared my bed with is surprisingly low, but that doesn’t keep them from assuming I’m nothing but a cheap screw. It used to bother me, back when I gave a damn what other people thought of me. I used to worry about what people would say if I accused my husband of beating me. Would they believe me? Would they peg me as a liar?

I should have put a stop to it years before. People don’t understand unless they’re in that situation. At first I loved him. The chase, the amount of hardship I’d gone through to be with him made me refuse to give up. Naïve they call it. I wanted to do everything in my power to make him love me back; to prove I was good enough for his life.

Some would even say I was brainwashed by greed. My dream of running away from the island left me with a determination I refused to give up on. Add a child into the mix and it’s a potion for years of torment.

I never asked to be beaten. When I finally realized it wasn’t my fault, that I wasn’t the names he was calling me, it was too late to turn to friends or family. I didn’t want to be a failure. I couldn’t look into my parents’ eyes and tell them I had to come home. It wasn’t an option, up until it was the only one left.

Standing on this porch, watching Buck prepare a meal for his kids gets to me in a way it normally shouldn’t. He cares. He’s rough on the outside, but it’s a façade for what’s hidden within. I’ve met a lot of men, especially in my line of work. Most, given the right opportunity, would take up an offer to be with me in a heartbeat, and I’m not assuming that because I’m conceited. On the contrary, I’m quite the opposite. It’s them. Get a few drinks in each one and they’re begging me to step in the back room and show them a good time. I peer down at wedding rings all day and wonder if their wives have ever seen this side of them, and if they haven’t, would they want to be with someone so dishonest?

I think it’s why I hate getting involved with the community outside of Nick’s school and the business. Women see me as a threat. They think it’s my fault their husbands are absent.

It’s not. I tell them to go home to their families. I cut them off. I treat them disrespectfully, but they refuse to go. They’d rather sit with a dry mug then go home.

It saddens me. It’s like I’m the secret keeper for the town. That’s why I appreciate guys like Buck.

He wants nothing more than to have his wife back. I wasn’t in town when they were married, so I have no idea whether the relationship was stable and happy, though I’ve never known another person so devoted. It breaks my heart to see him come in on the designated
bad days
. Three years ago I asked around and learned the significance of each, marking the day on the calendar so I could prepare and make sure I didn’t say anything to offend him.

For the most part Buck keeps to himself. He comes in for a few drinks and sits in the corner as if he’s punished. He doesn’t socialize with the other patrons, not unless they go up and directly speak to him.

He’s a watcher. He sits in one spot and takes in the atmosphere, as if it’s entertaining. I tend to cater to his type more, because they aren’t there to hide from what’s at home, or vent about how miserable life is.

I hate to break it to those people, but life isn’t easy. Everyone has problems. We all make mistakes, some more severe than others, but all with consequences.

Buck may have regrets. He may blame himself for his wife’s illness, which is ridiculous, but at the same time empathizing.

I remember being a teenager and seeing him drop off seafood to my father’s restaurant. He was working for his father, young and fit, and everything a teenage girl wants to look at and daydream about.

Buck is still muscular in stature, his skin extremely tan from years of pulling lines and working on the water. His thick arms could hold a woman tight and keep her protected during a wicked evening storm like the one headed our way. Those hazel eyes tell the story of love, loss, and a sense of responsibility he can never give up on.  His calloused hands prove he’s a hard worker, while other parts show he’s been through hell and back, like his dark hair that has started to fade with hints of gray on the sides, or the creases near his eyes when he squints in any way, probably from having to raise six kids on his own. I’ve wanted him for years; longed to be with a man who remains strong and determined, yet utterly lost and just as broken.

The sky is dark across the water, and as I watch the clouds quickly covering the blue sky, I notice Buck is already aware it’s about to rain. He closes the grill and points to the house. “I’m going to grab a tray to put the food on. Go ahead inside so you don’t get wet.”

I freeze in place and let out a giggle. It takes him a few seconds to realize his wording. “Damn. Did I really say that?”

“You did.”

“You know what I meant,” he corrects.

“It’s still funny.”

“The jokes on me, because I find it hard to believe I still have the moves to make a woman wet.”

“That’s a tough theory, are you sure you’re not interested in testing it out?”

He smirks and shakes his head. I know it’s time to stop flirting, but being alone with him makes my attraction front and center. If he only knew how hot and bothered I still get imagining him in my bed.

We hurry inside of the house. While I remain in the kitchen, I watch him go back out to retrieve the food. His daughter bursts into the room and gives me a once over. “Who are you, and why is Nick the dick in the living room? Tell me you’re not dating my dad, because that would be horrible for my reputation at school.”

My hands are on my hips as I prepare to defend my innocent son’s honor. “What did you call him?”

She pops something in her mouth as she speaks. A violet streak is on the right side of her light hair. Dark makeup surrounds both of her eyes. A ring protrudes from her nostril, and her black clothes leave little to the imagination. Buck really has his hands full with this one. “That boy is my son, and I’d appreciate it if you kept your opinions to yourself. Haven’t you been taught to respect your elders and be considerate to visitors? I’m a guest in your father’s home. We both are.”

She keeps eating what looks like potato chips. “I haven’t been taught anything since Mom died. Get over yourself. You’re in
my
house. I can say whatever the hell I please.”

His voice is so loud my body jumps, my feet coming off the floor as I’m startled. “Apologize! NOW!”

Bristol rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I’m not saying shit to her or anyone else. Way to go, Dad. Bringing someone home on Mom’s birthday. Could you be any more of an asshole?”

I look from Buck to his daughter, repeatedly. They’re staring each other down, as if they’re about to have a knock down drag out brawl in the kitchen. I clap my hands together to break the uncomfortable moment. “How about we start over?” I look to his disrespectful daughter. “I’m Alice Perry. Your father was nice enough to invite us here when we had a bit of trouble with our place earlier today. We’re not involved, and since I knew your mother, I’d never consider throwing myself at your father on her birthday. Now, as far as my son goes,” I pause. “Perhaps you know each other from school. Maybe you hang out in different crowds. I don’t know, and I certainly don’t care. My problem with what you said earlier was that you were rude. Even if you’re not friends, you don’t speak to me or other adults in that manner. Your father might be afraid to jack your little ass up today, but I’m not. There’s no way your mother would stand for this type of behavior.” I’m shaking as I finish, completely worried Buck is going to order me out of the house. Instead he surprises the both of us.

“Make your plate and take it to your room, Bristol. You’re already in deep shit, so don’t be making any plans to go anywhere for the next month. Tell that guy you’ve been seeing it’s over. I don’t want him on my property again.”

She’s says something under her breath that Buck ignores, but does as he suggests and makes her plate before exiting the room.

I shake my head and feel obligated to explain why I reacted the way I did. “I’m sorry if I overstepped, Buck.”

He cuts me off. “No need to apologize. She deserves it. That girl will be the death of me. She challenges me every damn day. I don’t know what to do about it anymore. I’ve tried everything.”

“She listened.”

“I think you freaked her out. She wasn’t prepared for you to be so forthcoming. It almost turned me on seeing you go off. I’m not used to women taking up for me.”

“I don’t like it when teenagers are disrespectful. It rubs me the wrong way. She should appreciate how hard you work for them, not take advantage of you every second she can.”

He focuses on the food while responding. “I’m no good with women, especially the young ones. With the boys it was easy. She’s difficult. If I give her an inch she takes three miles.”

I place my hand on his shoulder. “One day she’s going to thank you for being her daddy. It’s probably not going to be any time soon, but it will happen. All teenagers hate their parents. My son thinks I’m the bad guy for keeping his father away, when all I’ve ever done was try to protect him.”

He sighs heavily. “I won’t hold my breath.” He begins making plates. “I wasn’t planning on having company, so all we’ve got is corn, and chicken, and possibly some butter bread, if there are more than two slices left in the loaf.”

I can’t help from getting a kick out of him. “I never expected you to cook for us. I would have been fine ordering a pizza for the kids.”

“I try to cook every night. I might suck at it, but at least there is always food on the table.”

I change the subject. “So, I’m pretty sure your daughter hates me.”

He makes a sound in between a cackle and cough. “Shit, join the club. At least you don’t have to deal with her after tonight.”

He’s right, but somehow it offends me, as if he’s adamant I won’t return. He walks into the living room and puts a plate in front of Nick. “Here ya go, bud. Dig in, before the rest of the crew gets here.”

“Crew?” Nick inquires. “How many people live here?”

“Seven. Me and the kids.”

“Are you seeing my mom, now?”

At the same time we both reply. “No.” Then I reiterate, “We’re friends, Nick.”

“Yeah, I forgot. We’re hiding from Dad.”

Instead of being able to fight with him, Buck pulls me back into the kitchen. “He’ll get over it. Let’s eat in here where it’s quiet.”

We sit facing one another. Buck has put barbeque sauce on the chicken, and I can already tell from the smell that it will taste wonderful. I’m used to making easy dinners, or bringing stuff home from my dad’s restaurant. My place has light fare, but it’s all fried. I butter my corn and raise the ear to my mouth, digging my teeth in for my first bite. It’s sweet, probably locally grown, and absolutely delish. “Mmm, I haven’t had this in a while.”

“We supply crabs to Ronny over on Beebe Rd. He’s always giving me fresh produce when I’m there. You should see the size of his tomatoes this year. He’s been growing them in a greenhouse to ensure there is enough when the tourists start rolling in. I don’t care where it comes from. It’s free.”

“Wow, all I get is beer and liquor. I’m in the wrong business.”