Seaside Hearts (Love in Bloom: Seaside Summers, Book 2) Contemporary Romance (8 page)

“Maybe,” Bella whispered. “I’m not sure. But Pete’s the only guy Jenna has ever really liked, and he’s the only guy she isn’t able to talk to. It has to mean something.”

Amy yawned. “Jenna, I think you shouldn’t worry about erotic anything, because in my experience, guys are all talk with not nearly enough follow-through. It’s like how they all think six inches is really eight.”

“Right,” Leanna agreed. “You know, guys are so dumb like that. We don’t walk around saying we’re double D’s when we’re C’s.”

“Um…” Jenna looked down at the two bowling balls strapped to her chest.

“You put us all to shame.” Bella glanced down at her own perfect C’s. “But Caden likes mine, so I’m happy.”

“Hey, can we not talk about things we don’t
all
have?” Amy pointed to her chest. “I think B cup is pushing it over here.”

“I’d give you some of mine if I could,” Jenna offered.

“I know you would.  I think you should just follow your heart, Jenna.” Amy patted her own heart. “If it turns out Petey is a perv, you can stop seeing him.”

“We’re not even seeing each other, and he makes my heart go ten types of crazy.”
Good crazy. Exciting crazy
.  

“That’s not a bad thing, hon.” Amy yawned again. “I have to go to sleep or I’ll be whipped tomorrow.”

Jenna scrunched her shoulders and clenched her eyes shut. “Don’t hate me, but I told Charlie I’d go out with him this weekend.”

“Why on earth are you leading him on?” Bella ran her fingers through her hair, which was a tangled mass of wet blond waves.

Jenna shrugged. “Guys lead girls on all the time, and he’s really nice and hot. Who knows? Maybe a zing will appear.”

“Miss Zing Pow Bam, I doubt you’re gonna zing for anyone but Pete. I’ve got to get home.” Bella tiptoed to the front window again and peered out. “Caden has an early shift tomorrow, and I always get up with him.”

“You’re so sweet, Bella. I lie in bed for twenty minutes after Kurt gets up and listen to him typing on his laptop. It’s comforting.”

“I want comforting,” Amy said with another sigh.

“Oh shit.” Bella closed the curtains and covered her mouth.

“What?” Jenna pulled the curtains back. She spotted the cookie dough wrappers on the porch and slammed the curtains shut. “Shit, shit, shit. She knows it was us.”

“Great.” Amy sank onto her couch. “Now she thinks I’m the bad one.”

“Oh, hush,” Bella said. “No one ever thinks you’re the bad one. We’ll see what happens tomorrow.”

“Well, girls, are we on for the beach tomorrow?” Leanna asked.

“Yeah,” they all agreed.

On the way back to her cottage, Jenna thought about what Bella said about being afraid of something other than Pete. She thought of her parents’ divorce and her mother floundering to navigate a future that she hadn’t planned for or wanted. She pulled the screen door open and pushed the uncomfortable thoughts away. Maybe Bella was right, and what she was afraid of was staring her in the face every time her mother called. Maybe there really was no happily ever after.

PETE STOPPED BY the hardware store early Wednesday morning and found his father in the back office, punching figures into a calculator. He unhooked Joey’s leash. She burst forward and climbed into his father’s lap. He needed a distraction this morning, after Jenna’s reaction—or lack thereof—last night. He focused on his father as he slowly spun his old rolling desk chair toward Pete. His eyes lit up as he petted Joey.  He loved that dog as much as Pete did. He greeted Pete with a wide smile.

“Peter, how’s it going, son?” His hair stood on end, and his jaw and neck were peppered with two days’ worth of stubble, an indicator of at least one hard night.

Damn
.

Not for the first time, Pete felt guilt and anger clawing at him. Guilt, because he knew his father needed help and he loved him too much to force him into rehab, and on its heels, anger, for being too weak to do what his father so obviously needed him to.

“Hey, Pop. I just came by to see how you’re doing.”

His father set Joey down, and the pup barked and sniffed his shoes. “Working the books. It’s a pain in the ass,” he grumbled. “I have no idea how your mother did it for all those years, bless her heart.” He stood and embraced Pete.

Out of habit, Pete inhaled, smelling for hints of alcohol. Thankfully, there were none, but Pete wasn’t fooling himself. He knew alcoholics could mask their dirty little secret too many ways to count. Still, Pete breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t think he’d ever tire of the warmth of his father’s embrace. Softer around the middle now from age and alcohol, Neil still had strong arms that carried the memories of the attentive father he’d always been, and memories of their close-knit family, which had become frayed by rattled emotions with their father’s drinking.

“I told you I would find a bookkeeper to do it for you.”

Neil swatted the air as he headed into the store with Joey trotting alongside. “
Pfft
. Family business doesn’t mean hiring someone off the street, you know.” It was a bone of contention among his father and all of his children. Pete’s younger siblings had found careers off the Cape. Like Pete, they didn’t have any interest in working in a hardware store, and although it made Pete sad to think about, he knew that when his father retired, they’d likely sell the store, and Lacroux Hardware would become a thing of the past.

He followed his father to the register. “So, you’re doing okay, then?” The store hadn’t changed in years. It was a typical hardware store with stocked metal shelves, linoleum floors, and no decorations other than the
open
sign hanging from the door. His father had never been one for frivolities.

“Fine, fine.” His father picked up an inventory clipboard and proceeded to the paint aisle.

Pete ran his eyes over his father’s polo shirt and jeans, both clean and unwrinkled. A thread of hope weaved its way through Pete’s heart. It was a pattern he’d tried to break, hoping a new day would bring a wake-up call for his father before a heart attack did. As much as it pained him to know that there would likely be no alarm going off in his father’s head, when Pete had first realized he had a drinking problem, he’d approached him about getting help, and his father had been knee-deep in denial. Weeks later, his brothers had staged a full-on intervention, much to Pete’s dismay. Their efforts had caused a fissure in their relationship with their father for a few hard months—with the exception of Sky, who had been oblivious to their attempts. While his brothers could escape their father’s wrath of denial by going back to their respective lives, Pete remained. Eventually, Pete relented the fight, unwilling to lose the father he loved in that manner. Guilt-ridden was now a perpetual state for Pete, as he knew that if he didn’t intervene, every day he saw his father might be his last.

“Okay, Pop. Then I’m gonna head out. Do you want to come by tonight and help with the boat? I could use a hand with the caulking.”
Come on, Pop. Just one night
. Pete may have given up pushing his father to get help, but he never gave up hope that if he could convince his father to get back into the hobby he used to live for—refitting boats, as he’d taught Pete to do—that he might think twice about diving headfirst into the bottle the next time the urge took hold.

His father mumbled under his breath, something about
too much work
.

Pete leashed Joey and hesitated for a second, his mind and heart battling over trying again to convince his father to get help. He replayed the last conversation they’d had about it in his mind.
Hey, Pop, drinking isn
’
t going to bring Mom back. Why don’t we check out an AA meeting? I’ll go with you.
His father’s eyes had narrowed, a rare scowl settling on his lips before he turned his back to Pete in a dismissive manner and grumbled,
AA. I don’t need AA. Go on, son. I’ve lived my life. Go live yours.

He only wished he could.

AFTER SPENDING THE day at the beach, Jenna and Amy threw on sundresses over their bathing suits and went to the library to help prepare and organize for the annual book sale.

“Want to grab dinner at Mac’s after this?” Amy asked.

“Uh-huh.” Jenna stood before a box of books, withdrawing one after another, flipping through them, then writing the price for each on the inside cover before placing them neatly in the appropriately labeled boxes, alphabetized by author, of course.

“Can you believe Theresa didn’t say anything this morning about the cookie dough wrapper when she saw us?” Amy asked. “It’s like she wants us to know that she knows we’re the ones who broke the rules, but she doesn’t want to confront us.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with us. I think she wants Bella to know that she knows, without giving Bella the gratification of seeing her get upset.” Jenna eyed Amy. “But that’s Bella’s thing. You know she loves to prank Theresa, and she’ll keep doing things that she’s not supposed to until she gets a rise out of her—all done with love, of course.”

“Of course. We all love Theresa.”

“Ames, I’ve been thinking about Pete.” She watched Amy, who kept her eyes trained on her books, but smiled with Jenna’s admission.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She priced three more books in silence.

“Are we playing mental telepathy? You know I suck at that game.”

Jenna laughed. “I just don’t know what I think, but I’m thinking about him. You know, we’re friends, and I love that, but I want so much more, and at the same time, I don’t want to risk our friendship.”

“True.” Amy continued penciling in prices.

“And I’ve never really
told
him I was interested, and now that he’s shown an interest, he makes my heart go even wilder, making it even scarier to try to let him know how I really feel.”

“Yes.”

Amy was doing what Amy did best, drawing out Jenna’s thoughts by refusing to give her answers. She was patient to a fault, and when it came to Pete, Jenna knew she needed to be handled in that fashion. Telling Jenna she loved Pete brought out her defenses. This summer was supposed to be about finding happiness regardless of Peter Lacroux.
Liar, liar
. She’d been locked in her own mind for too long, running circles around Charlie and always circling back to Pete.

“I also think Bella was right, that he’s never had competition for my attention before.” She set down the book she was holding and faced Amy. “So, now that Pete has made it clear that he wants to take our friendship to the next level I should probably figure out how to talk to him so I can give him the same chance I gave Charlie.”

Amy lifted her gaze to Jenna. “But?”

“But…” Jenna joined Amy and took the book from her hands and set it down. She leaned her butt against the table, and Amy did the same. “Suppose when the competition is gone, he’s no longer so hot to trot for me?”

Amy pressed her lips together for a second. “I wish I had an answer, but honestly, that could happen.”

“Yeah, I know. Sometimes I wish you could lie.”

“I can lie, just not very well. Who knows? Maybe it won’t happen.” Amy turned back to the books. “What then?”

“Mad, erotic threesomes with anal sex?” Jenna sashayed back to her table.

“Eww. You’re a pig.” Amy laughed.

“Ha!” She threw her head back with the laugh and turned back toward Amy. “I don’t know what then, but the next time he corners me, I’m not going to let my stupid body steal my ability to act like I would with anyone else. I’m going to climb his body like scaffolding”—she moved her hands and feet up and down as if she were scaling him—“wrap my legs around his waist, and kiss those amazing lips until he realizes that there is no woman on earth as incredibly smart and sexy as me!”

Amy’s eyes widened.

“Okay, as me, you, Leanna, and Bella, of course, but you know what I mean.”

Jenna closed her eyes and spun around. “That’s exactly what I’ll do.” She opened her eyes and found Charlie standing with his hands on his hips, straight off the construction site, his tank top drenched in sweat and black gunk, and a smart-ass grin on his face.

Oh shit
.

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about.” He closed in on Jenna, lifted her up, and sealed his lips over hers, stroking her tongue with deep, intense motions that should have sent her legs around his waist, only she was too wrapped up in thoughts of Pete.

Jenna opened her eyes wide, midkiss, then slammed them closed again. Kissing Charlie made her feel a little queasy—far from anything resembling a
zing
—and maybe relieved that he thought she was talking about him. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how to handle the explanation if he found out she was talking about someone else.

She heard the back door to the stockroom open, and Jenna’s eyes sprang open. She was still in Charlie’s arms, eye to eye with his hungry stare—and in clear view of Pete, standing just inside the door with daggers shooting from his eyes and steam practically streaming from his ears.

“Pete.” Jenna didn’t know if she’d actually said his name or not. She pushed from Charlie’s arms and landed with a thud on the floor as Amy spun around—and Pete stormed out of the building.

“Bummer,” Charlie said. “He must have been in a hurry.”

Yeah, a hurry to get away from me.
Jenna’s heart sank at the look on Pete’s face.

“I just wanted to let you know that we’re out of town on another site for the next few days, but I’ll call you,” Charlie said. “I’m looking forward to the boat ride with you on Saturday.”

Jenna was still staring at the door, too shocked to move. She heard Amy join them, saw movement in her peripheral vision.

“You kissed her silly, Charlie.” Amy bumped Jenna with her elbow.

Jenna shook off her stupor and forced a smile for Charlie.
The boat trip
. “Great,” she lied.

“I’ve got to run.” He kissed Jenna’s cheek and whispered, “Maybe after the boat ride I’ll let you climb me like scaffolding.”

Shitshitshit
.

PETE DROVE DOWN to the pier, cursing a blue streak. What the fuck was he thinking? He couldn’t get the image of Jenna lip-locked with that guy, her body pressed against him, out of his mind. He’d heard her and Amy talking about working at the library today, and he’d convinced himself that the only way to get past this mess was to lay his feelings on the line with Jenna. Let her know how much she meant to him, regardless of the obstacles in his life, and that he was interested in much more than just a sexual relationship. But she was most definitely
with
Dipshit, and he was obviously wasting his time. He threw his truck into park and stared out over the water.

Joey pushed her chin onto Pete’s lap and huffed out a sigh.

Pete stroked his head. “What am I gonna do, girl? Stake my claim or walk away?” Damn if he wasn’t incapable of walking away from Jenna. He took Joey for a walk along the beach, trying to work through his emotions. They sat on the beach and watched the sun set.

Pete’s cell phone rang, startling Joey.
Pop
. He marked sunsets by his father’s drinking, and hell if it wasn’t that time again. He closed his eyes before answering the call and facing his father’s drunken ramblings.

“Hey, Pop.”

“Pete…Peter, Peter, listen, Pete.”

Pete pushed to his feet and headed back to the truck. “I’m here, Pop.”

“I can’t find her, Pete. She’s gone.”

His chest constricted. Alcohol brought his father’s longing for his mother to the forefront in the most painful of ways. “I know, Pop. I’m on my way.” He turned the truck around and headed toward his father’s house.

Like a child afraid of the boogeyman, Pete had come to fear the sight of his father’s dark house.  He longed for days gone by, when his parents’ home was lit up with life, and visiting meant an evening of a home-cooked meal and laughter.

He mounted the stairs of his childhood Cape-style home. Joey’s nails tapped out a beat beside him on the porch decking. Pete had refinished the porch last summer in an effort to get his father to focus on something other than the loss of his wife. When he was just a boy, his father had taught him how to channel the ache and ire of his emotions into physical labor, but somehow his father had lost sense of that ability after his wife passed away.

He closed the door behind him, and the silence of the old house pressed in on him. There was no need for him to call out to his father or to wander the house looking for him. He knew he’d find him in the same upholstered chair, an empty bottle beside him, a glass on the end table, and a single reading light casting an eerie yellow glow over his mother’s sewing table.

The worn wood floors creaked beneath his heavy boots. Pete glanced into the dark living and dining rooms as he passed. They were, as always, neat and orderly with no hints of the nightmare that consumed his father after dark. He passed his parents’ bedroom and went through the kitchen, picking up an empty bottle from the counter and tossing it in the trash without allowing himself to think about what it meant. Dwelling on his father’s problem only made it harder to deal with.

His mother’s sewing room looked just as it had two years earlier, when she’d died of an aneurysm while sewing a button on one of his father’s shirts. Pete had tried to get his father to sell the house, but Neil was a stubborn man, and he insisted on remaining in the house, forming yet another layer of guilt for Pete to wear. He’d secretly been relieved that his father didn’t want to sell the house. Every room held fond memories for him, too. Memories not just of a mother who’d doted on her children but had also scolded them with a stern look, followed up by a pat on the head and a hug.
Oh, Peter. You know I love you, but you can’t do those things.
Those things
covered everything he’d ever done, from racing down the middle of the road on his bike to skipping school. He smiled at the memories. His mother had tried hard to raise them well, and she’d done a damn good job, only Pete got all of his father’s stubbornness and all of his mother’s softness, rendering him unprepared and, he worried, unable to fix his father’s troubles.