Isle of Hope (25 page)

“I beg your pardon,” Lacey said, strolling over to give Matt some grief with hands parked on her hips. “It was ten minutes, Ball, and Jack had the posts poured and the beams cut before you two masterminds even figured out which hammers to use.” She arched a brow. “Not to mention helping me dig the entire trench for the berms on either side of the yard.”

“Only because he got here early to impress Mamaw,” Matt countered.

Jack hurled the crumpled Dixie cup at Matt. “No, Lazy-Butt, because I was on time and you and Mr. Bottomless Pit there probably stopped at every McDonald’s on the way.”

Nicki chuckled, ruffling Matt’s hair as she passed by on her way to the patio. “He’s got you there, babe.”

Matt shot to his feet in time to snatch Nicki’s hand, spinning her around to capture her in a mock threat. “It’s a sad commentary,
woman
, when my cousin’s ex-girlfriend supports him more than my future wife supports me.”

“That’s what you get for marrying a church-going woman, Ball.” Jack sauntered over to tweak Lacey’s neck, hoping to ease the tension of their prior conversation. “They tend to be a little too honest to suit.”

Lacey squealed with a scrunch of shoulders, sliding him a sideways grin. “As I recall, honesty was one of the things you were looking for way back when, Jack O’Bryen.”

He slung an arm over her shoulder and grinned, ushering her toward the patio where Mamaw was furling a checkered tablecloth over her wrought-iron table. “Yep. Now the only things I’m looking for are a couple of your grandmother’s subs and a tall mug of tea.”

“We’re not too late, are we?”

Jack glanced up, jaw stiffening along with the arm he’d hooked over Lacey’s shoulder. Chase and Kelly stood on the threshold of Mamaw’s French doors, the sight of the pretty-boy pastor suddenly spoiling his mood. Sporting a polo that appeared far too snug for a pastor, he hoisted a huge watermelon with one hand, arms sculpted enough to tick Jack off. Beside him, Kelly carried several bags of snacks and chips, her smile lighting up the moment she saw Jack.

“Hey, Chase, I thought you had to work today.” Lacey slipped from Jack’s hold to give Sarah and Chase a hug, annoying Jack to no end.

“Finished my meeting earlier than expected, so I thought I’d come over to show these yahoos how it’s done.” He glanced up to grin at Matt and Nate before offering Jack a hand. “Hey, Jack, we’ve missed that killer serve of yours at volleyball, so it’s good to see you again.”

Yeah, well, that makes one of us ...
He shook Chase’s hand and forced a smile. “Just figured you had things well under control, Rev, so I didn’t want to cramp your style.”

The French doors swooshed open again, and Mamaw stepped out with a gleam of mischief and an oversized pump bottle of Purell, the smell of cinnamon drifting out with her. “All right, young people, warm cookies are in the oven, but not one crumb will be had until these sandwiches are all gone.” She plopped the bottle of Purell in the center of the table with a noticeable clunk, chin high. “And not one sandwich is to be had without sanitizing your hands first, is that clear?” Her twinkling gaze landed square on Lacey with a zag of a smile. “There are those who have no qualms about germs, and you know who you are …”

“Yes, ma’am.” Lacey squeezed Mamaw’s waist, then quickly complied with an ample squirt of Purell. “Whoops, overkill,” she said with a lift of gooey hands.

Chase wasted no time. “Here, I’ll help you out.” Wearing a grin, he massaged and manhandled her palms so long, Jack was sure the excess Purell had to be bone dry. After twining his fingers with Lacey’s, he pulled her into a hug. “Now I’ll be germ-free
and
sweet.”

Jack fought the urge to roll his eyes while he glanced at his watch, his mind already made up. He wasn’t staying around for another episode of the Chase and Lacey Show. “Okay, grunts, I gotta go, so don’t botch up my hard work.”

Lacey whirled around, eyes wide. “What do you mean you have to go?” The deep ridge in her brow made him happier than it should. “You just told me you were starving.”

“That’s before I remembered a meeting I have,” he lied, giving her ponytail a light tug.

He ducked when Matt pelted one of Mamaw’s homemade pretzel nubs his way. “Come on, O’Bryen, you never told me about any meeting.” Taking a second shot, Matt missed him again. “You’re just trying to bail out of work.”

Jack threw Matt off with a lazy shrug before snatching a pretzel to nail him mid-chest. “You have a real talent for the obvious, Ball, but your aim could use some work.”

“Come on, Jack.” Kelly had that familiar coax in her tone. “These guys need all the help they can get. Besides,” she said with a sultry dance of brows, “I was kind of hoping for a glimpse of you without your shirt. You know, all sweaty and laboring in the sun?”

Plate piled high, Justin laughed and draped an arm over Kelly’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Goshorn, I’ll ditch my shirt if you want.”

Jack waved off all protests as he edged towards the door. “Another time, Miss Goshorn. I realize these jokers are poor seconds, but who knows?” He gave her a wink before nodding toward Chase. “Maybe the preacher will comply. So long, everyone.” He gave a final salute.

“Wait! At least take lunch with you.” Lacey butted the guys out of the way to grab a paper plate and load it with two hoagies and all the fixin’s.

“That’s okay, Lace, really—” He fisted the knob, anxious to flee.

“Halt!” She froze his hand to the door with a no-nonsense schoolteacher tone, giving him the stink-eye like she used to whenever she wanted her way. A bittersweet grin tugged at his lips when she cocked a stern brow. “Not one more step, O’Bryen, until I get this plate loaded with food and covered with foil, is that understood?”

Nicki confiscated one of Matt’s three hoagies and plopped it on her plate instead. “Uh-oh, Jack, she’s in teacher mode now, so I suggest you do as she says.”

“Yeah, or she may send you to the principal’s office,” Sarah said with a giggle, bumping her hip to Kelly’s. “Or Miss Goshorn’s.”

“Follow me, please,” Lacey ordered, prodding him aside to march into Mamaw’s kitchen where the smell of snickerdoodles cooling on the counter watered his mouth. Placing his plate on the island counter, she retrieved foil and another paper plate from the pantry, promptly filling it with cookies before covering both. She stacked and handed them over, then swiped a bottled water from the fridge and plunked it on top. “There.” She looked up with a victorious smile. “That should hold you till after your meeting.”

“Thank you, Miss Carmichael,” he drawled in his best suck-up-to-teacher tone. He chucked her on the chin. “You may be bossy, but I wish all my teachers had been as pretty as you. I’ll bet all the boys toe the line in your class, don’t they?”

She surprised him with a soft blush. “As a matter of fact, they do, and
you
, Mr. O’Bryen,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, “would do well to remember that.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Without notice, she stood on tiptoe to brush a gentle kiss to his cheek, and the air heaved still in his throat. “Thanks, Jack, for all of your help,” she whispered. “You and Chase are the only ones with construction experience, so the rest of the guys would be lost without you.”

Chase.

Figures.
“No problem, Lace—glad to do it.” He hefted the plates in the air. “Thanks for the eats—they’ll be gone before I’m a block away.”

“Good.” She followed him down the hall and opened the front door. “See you soon, I hope.”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” he muttered after she closed the door, shoulders in a slump as he made his way to his car. He tossed the plates on the front seat and got in to his convertible, his mood suddenly as hot as his black leather seats in the sun. Something needed to be done about his feelings for Lacey or their friendship wasn’t long for this world. He thought about Jasmine and knew she was more than ready to move to the next level, or at least that’s what she implied every time they were together. And like he’d mentioned to Sam in his office that day, he’d been leaning that way as well …
especially
since he’d seen Lacey in that flippin’ BP.

He twisted the cap off the water with too much force, splashing his leather console and making a mess.
Just like my life
, he thought before taking a deep swig that seemed to wash away all doubts. It was time, he decided, time to fall in love with somebody else, and although the thought left him as cold as the water chilling his throat, he knew he didn’t have much of a choice. There was no way Lacey would have him as is—a man without faith—she’d made that abundantly clear. And there was no way he’d rely on God ever again. So it looked like Jazz would get what she wanted. He pushed the ignition with a grunt.
At least one of us will …

“Jack!”

He glanced toward the house where Chase was loping across Mamaw’s lawn. Apology etched in his face, he placed palms on the open passenger window. “Sorry to keep you, but do you mind if I ask you a question?”

Jack turned, expression casual despite the uneasy feeling crawling in his gut. “Go ahead.”

Chase studied him, his serious expression that of a pastor despite his form-fitting polo. “Are you … leaving because of me?”

Heat tracked up the back of Jack’s neck. “What? No,” he lied, taking another glug of his water. “Why would you think that?”

Sober eyes seemed to peer into his very soul, telling him Chase had found his calling. “Because you seem uneasy whenever I’m around, and to be honest, I think you still care for Lacey. So I want you to know that I’ll back off if my dating her bothers you at all.”

Jack blinked, hardly able to believe any guy would be that accommodating. But then this was a preacher, somebody used to sacrificing his wants for others. Jack suddenly thought of his father.
Until the day they do whatever they freakin’ well please.
He took another swallow of water. “No, Rev, don’t worry about me. Lacey and I are nothing more than friends, so go for it.”

Chase ducked his head, his gaze measuring Jack way too hard. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Lacey and I were in love as kids, but growing up has a way of changing all that. Besides,” he said, tugging a sandwich from beneath the foil with a flash of teeth, “I’m hooked up with a hot blonde right now who’s pretty crazy about me.”

Chase grinned. “So I noticed. Jasmine, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good to hear.” With a tap of palms to the car, Chase stepped back. “Thanks for understanding, man.”

“Sure, no problem, Rev. See ya.” Putting the car in gear, Jack glanced behind before pulling away from the curb, fingers as taut and hard as the steel beneath his hand.

No problem at all.

“Have a good meeting,” Chase called and Jack gunned the engine, jaw grinding along with the gears of his car.
A good meeting
. Not a lie exactly, at least not anymore. He glanced at the clock on the dash. Just a little past noon. Good. Jasmine would be on lunch break soon. Slapping his blinker on, he took the turn to Memorial for his “meeting.” A “meeting” of the minds, that is. He shifted into high gear, leaving Isle of Hope in the dust as he shot across Skidaway Narrows bridge with one purpose in mind. To purge any romantic notions for Lacey Carmichael from his brain. A tic pulsed in his cheek as the Z ate up the miles.

And from his heart.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Lacey breathed in deeply, the warm bag of snickerdoodles taking her back to when Mom and she spent days on end baking Christmas cookies for Daddy. “Snickerdoodles are one of your father’s favorites,” Mom would always say with a secret smile, her teasing tone indicative of just how hard they’d tried to sneak into Daddy’s good graces.

Easing the Honda down Bluff Drive, a smile tickled her lips as she passed Jack’s house. It broke into a full-fledge grin at the memory of Tess’s suggestion of monster cookies or chocolate chip pie as a means of weakening her father’s defenses. Yes, monster cookies were good, she supposed, and chocolate chip pie, too. But when she was younger, warm snickerdoodles had always earned her a kiss and a smile when she’d met Daddy at the door with a fresh batch, and she was hoping tonight they might work their magic too.

Please, God?

Even so, her stomach churned as much as the batter in the bowl when she’d baked them after dinner, earning her kisses and smiles from Spence and Nicki, if not from her father. Glancing at the dark windows of the house, she put the car in “Park” and turned it off, her hope sputtering as much as the engine when it rumbled and shimmied to a stop.

“The front of the house is always dark,” Tess had warned her, “so if he doesn’t answer, just keep ‘bonging’ him to death with that silly doorbell. That usually does the trick for me.”

Lacey’s mouth took a swerve.
But not for his daughter, I’ll bet.

At least,
this
time.

Expelling a weary sigh, she made her way to the front door with her bribe in hand, the scent of cinnamon buoying her mood as she pressed the bell with a rush of confidence. Beau’s barking commenced on the other side of the door as she waited.

And waited …

And pressed the bell again.

And
again.

On the fourth try she huffed out a sigh, lips gumming into a flat line. “Okay, Daddy, have it your way,” she muttered. She marched to the fence on the side of the house, shaking her head at the sight of a ridiculously large padlock that made it look like Fort Knox. Her smile crooked to the left. “Nice try, Dr. Doom, but keep in mind I inherited my stubborn streak from you …”

Bending over the padlocked gate, she carefully tossed the cookies over and scaled the fence, her spaghetti-strap, baby-doll top billowing up when she hopped to the other side. Without missing a beat, she scooped the bag up and strode to the sliding doors, halting dead in her tracks. Her jaw dropped at the sight of a wall of plantation shutters spanning the length of the family room, closed tighter than a
bloomin’ bunker. “Gosh, Daddy, you make hermits look social,” she mumbled, wondering how the man managed to have any friends at all. Back ramrod straight, she pounded on the glass for a good thirty seconds to no avail while Beau went crazy.

Along with me.

“Really, God?” she said a bit too loudly, her frustration starting to show as she peered up at the dusky sky. “And why am I doing this again?”

“Because it’s His way or the highway, remember?” A voice tinged with humor filtered through the hedge.

“Tess?” Lacey moved closer, trying to peek through. “Is that you?”

“Yep. Enjoying a rare moment of silence since Matt and Nicki took Davey and Spence to the drive-in, and Jack and the twins are fishing on the dock.” She paused. “Hate to tell you, but I think your dad may be trying to avoid us by juggling his schedule. Normally he takes Beau fishing on Wednesdays. I discovered
that
when I peeked through the hedge while he was banging around in his shed one afternoon, apparently to retrieve his tackle box. But now it appears he’s switched to Thursdays, I’m guessing to avoid me since that’s when I’d pop over.”

Lacey cocked a hip. “Yeah, well if this keeps up, I’m not above making an appointment with his secretary, so he better watch out.”

A chuckle floated through the dense branches. “I have a fresh pitcher of peach tea if you care to wait …”

“That actually sounds wonderful,” she said slowly, an idea sparking in her brain.
After all, if Daddy isn’t home to make amends to, there’s always Cat, right?
“But I’d rather not impose on your rare moment of silence—”

“Lacey, stop, you would not—”

“I’d much rather impose on Cat’s …” she said in a rush, lips curling at the silence that ensued. Her smile inched into a grin when a low-throated chuckle floated over the hedge. “Now
that
sounds like a capital idea if ever there was.”

“I thought you might agree.”

“But don’t let her give you any guff, you hear? And if she does, send her up to me.”

“Oh, I won’t have any problem, trust me. I plan to teach her—all over again—that I’m tougher than her.”

Tess laughed. “Borrowing a page from Ben Carmichael’s playbook, are you?”

Tugging her ponytail holder from her hair, Lacey chuckled as she secured the bag of cookies to the knob of her father’s back door. “More like the whole flippin’ book. Say one for me, will you?”

An unladylike snort leaked through the privet. “I think I’d rather say one for Cat—she’s gonna need it.”

“That she is, Mrs. O.,” Lacey quipped with a square of shoulders, “that she is.”

“And, Lacey …” Tess’s tone halted her halfway over the fence. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart, I could just bust.”

Tears took her by surprise when they burned at the back of her lids, this woman’s love and respect meaning more than she would ever know. Gulping the emotion that clogged in her throat, she covered with a cavalier air as she jumped to the ground. “Thanks, Mrs. O., but if busting is involved, I’m hoping it’s your pride and not Cat’s fist.”

Tess’s laughter infused her with the strength she needed as she sprinted across Bluff Drive and over the lawn to the shoreline that harbored their docks. Pulse thudding, she scurried down the stone pathway where graceful marsh grasses swayed on either side, whispering in the sea breeze as if urging her on. She slowed as she approached the long wooden ramp to their dock, breathing in the scent of summers past with its sea salt and marsh and the tang of fish in the air. A waning sun hovered over the horizon like royalty, resplendent with ribbons of scarlet and gold that bled over the trees before spilling into the water.

A sea gull scooped high overhead with a loud squawk, drawing her gaze to her father’s dock, recently power-washed and stained according to Tess, but seldom used. A familiar malaise settled, as cloying as the stickiness in the humid air. Shaking it off, Lacey silently eased her way down the ramp.

The weathered wood vibrated with the motion of Jack and his sisters clowning around, bobbing up and down as much as her stomach. Playful banter and jests ping-ponged back and forth while their laughter echoed over the water, causing a sharp pang of homesickness to cramp in her chest. Oh, how she longed to be a part of them again, to be an O’Bryen, if only in spirit instead of in name. Another sea gull screeched overhead, swooping back into the sky with the glint of a fish in its beak. In a gentle gust of breeze, resolve suddenly surged in Lacey like the air beneath the gull’s wings, causing hope to soar as lofty and high as the bird in the sky.
And I will be
, she decided with a stiff set of her jaw,
if it takes all summer to do it
.

With a firm tug of her cut-offs, she tiptoed down the rickety ramp so Jack and his sisters wouldn’t hear. Sprawled barefoot in paint-weathered Adirondack chairs spaced ten feet apart, each bobbed corks in the river amidst chatter and laughter and the occasional pelting of shrimp.

“Uh-oh, looks like somebody’s going to be washing my car and making my bed for a week,” Jack said with a hard jerk of his rod, rising to his feet to reel in what appeared to be a good-sized fish.

The girls groaned and bobbed their lines all the harder while Jack fought with his usual confident swagger when it came to games or sports, his gloating making her grin.
Jack O’Bryen, nice guy, cocky winner.
Net in hand, he squatted over the edge in faded cutoffs that rode up to reveal powerful thighs. “Face it, ladies, I’m the undisputed king, proving once again that men reign supreme in the sport of fishing.” Body taut, he braced his battered Sperrys to haul the catch in, calves bulging with the strain.

“Hey, it’s not over till sunset,” Cat said, jumping up to fish the same corner as Jack, where a saffron sliver of sun still shimmered over the water. “So don’t give me any flack, Jack.”

Laughter ringing over the river, Jack stood to show off his catch, bare chest gleaming with sweat while he held it high. “No flack, Catfish,” he said with a slow turn, “just deep-down pity ’cause check this bab—” He stopped, eyes flaring in surprise as he lowered his fish, a slow smile sliding across his face. “Hey, Lace, what are you doing here? Come to challenge the King of the Dock?”

Cat spun around so fast, Lacey was surprised she didn’t fall in the water, although the scowl on her face was as potent as if she had. Her eyes narrowed to slits. “What’s she doing here?”

“Knock it off,” Jack said in a quiet voice that pinched Cat’s lips in a silent glare.

“Good to see you again, Lace!” Shannon was up and hugging her in no time, her warm embrace helping to take the sting out of Cat’s rejection.

“Thanks, Shan.” Nodding toward her dad’s dock, Lacey managed an off-center smile. “I actually came to see Dr. Doom, but he’s obviously avoiding me, so I thought I’d come over to give you guys some trouble.”

“Too late,” Cat muttered. Posture stiff, she strode over to the storage chest Jack made years ago and tossed her rod in, letting the lid slam with a hard crack. “I’m outta here—”

“Oh, no you’re not.” Jack grabbed her arm on her way past, grip tight. “This feud’s been going on way too long, so it ends here and now, Cat. I cleared the air with Lace, and now it’s your turn.”

Cat jerked free, chin lashing up as she planted stiff hands on her hips. “No freakin’ way. She may have batted those stubby lashes to make you forget how she turned on us, Jack, but not me.” She seared Lacey with a sneer. “So why don’t you run on home, you little backstabber.” Eyes wide in mock sympathy, she tipped her head, hands to her cheeks. “Oh, wait … you can’t because even your own father doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

Cat’s nasty remark cut deep, but Lacey was not about to let anger ruin her chances at making amends with her former best friend, not when she’d made such strides with her brother. “Look, Cat, I’m really sorry—for everything—and I’d like to make it up to you if you’d give me a chance.”

“You want to make it up to me?” With a fold of her arms, Cat stepped close with a caustic smile. She waved an arm toward the water. “Then why don’t you just take a flying leap into the river right now and hold your breath for a while.” She leaned in, wildfire in her eyes. “Say, an hour or two.”

“Come on, Cat, leave her alone,” Shannon said softly, quietly looping a protective arm to Lacey’s waist. “Jack’s right—it’s time to leave all that bitterness behind and move on.”

“Sure, I’ll leave it behind—right now.” Cat shoved Lacey out of the way and stormed past, halfway up the ramp before Jack caught up with her.

He spun her around. “Looks like somebody needs to cool off.” Sweeping her up in his arms, he carried her kicking to the edge of the dock, her shrieks ricocheting off the water. “Grab her shoes, Shan.”

“Shannon,
nooooo—!
” Panic edged her sister’s cry as she pummeled Jack’s chest.

Working her lip, Shannon darted forward to slip Cat’s Sperrys off, her giggle nervous as she hugged them to her chest. “Sorry, sis.”

“Bon voyage, kiddo.” Biceps straining, Jack heaved Cat into the air, clothes and all. Her arms and legs flailed wildly before she hit the water with a loud “
ker-ploosh!
”

Hand to her mouth, Lacey couldn’t stop the chuckles that rolled from her lips. “Oh, Jack, I can’t believe you did that …”

He turned her way, trouble glinting bright in his eyes as one thick brow jutted high. “Oh, you think this is funny, do you?” Ignoring Cat’s tirade from the water, he strolled forward with a wicked smile.

Her eyes spanned wide, palm in the air. “Oh, no—don’t you dar—”

He scooped her up so fast she barely had time to squeal.

“Jack, no!” Hands grafted to his neck, she curled her toes tight to secure her own shoes while she screamed, digging her fingernails into his hard-muscled back. Her voice was little more than a screech. “These are brand-new deck shoes …”

“Ooops, sorry.” Balancing her with his knee, he clamped her to his torso like a vise, free hand sliding the length of her calf till it locked on her shoe. He peeled it off and lobbed it to Shannon with a chuckle.

Lacey bucked like an 800-lb. marlin on 80-lb. test, thrashing against a chest that felt like rock. “Jack, please, I’m sorry for laughing …”

“Tell that to Cat,” he said, his devious chuckle reminding her of all the times he’d hurled her and his sisters in the drink, lording it over them as “King of the Dock.” Dislodging her other shoe, he kicked it away from the edge, his whisper warm in her ear. “Sink or swim, Lace. This is your chance to make it right—don’t blow it.” Her heart stopped when his lips grazed her cheek before she went airborne, the heat of Jack’s touch doused by a cold blast of brine.