Tequila Rose Page 9

  Magnolia

  “I’m not allowed to have the Green Tea from Morgan’s anymore.” As I mumble into my phone, I roll over on my bed so I can watch Bridget stack the blocks. She’s been up since 5:00 a.m. and won’t go back to sleep.

  Her curls bounce as she plays and she’s quiet and happy. It is what it is. Today I’m a tired mama.

  “Oh, don’t blame the alcohol.”

  “It’s absolutely the alcohol’s fault.” My words are a grumble and they fall flat. As flat as an open soda can left out overnight.

  “Come on,” Renee says, trying to coax me, her chipper positive side coming out against all my doom and gloom. “We talked about this. You weren’t going to tell him. We decided that.”

  “No,” I say, correcting her. “I decided I was going to tell him. Whether or not you want to ignore those texts I sent is on you. I was supposed to tell him. Come clean and make sure he knew.” It couldn’t wait for appetizers. But then again, apparently it could.

  There’s a featherlight weight constantly fluttering in my chest. It hasn’t stopped and it gets in the way of my heart beating right. Worse than that, it hurts. I can’t stop staring at my daughter, knowing what she didn’t have. But also what Brody didn’t have. And I’m keeping it from him.

  “First off, it’s been one date. Don’t be so hard on yourself. A PG date is hardly a time to drop a bombshell.” I roll my eyes at her “PG” comment and pick at the comforter. The last thing I wanted to do was lead him on. PG was the best I had to offer him.

  “I’ve seen him three times now. The initial bumblefrick of a meet. At the gallery and then for two hours on a date.” There’s no excuse. The last statement goes unsaid because it’s stuck at the back of my throat as the guilt strangles me.

  “You will tell him,” Renee insists and I nod at the ceiling in agreement. “You have every intention to … when the time is right.” I find myself nodding along with her.

  Stretching my back, I take my time to sit cross-legged on my bed, balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder. The creak of the bed with my shifting weight gets Bridget’s attention. “Mommy tired,” my three-year-old tells the baby doll she’s propped up in front of my nightstand. Lifting the doll she aptly named “Dolly,” Bridget shakes the doll slightly as she commands me, “Go bed, Mommy. Is nap time.”

  A soft chuckle leaves me and all the weight of the date two nights ago seems to dissipate.

  As Bridget returns to stacking blocks, Renee lists all the reasons I don’t have to tell him anything. Including the fact that he could be a serial killer and that Bridgey doesn’t need that in her life. I don’t think my eyes could roll any harder. Without giving her a response, I take in what Bridget’s building on the floor next to the bed. I think it’s a castle.

  “You’re going to be a little engineer, aren’t you?” Renee hears me on the other end of the phone and asks if she’s playing with the blocks again. “Mm-hmm.”

  “The Lego kind or the wooden ones?” I know she’s asking because she got her the wooden ones and Robert got her the baby Legos. That constant lightweight feeling in my chest grows heavier at the reminder of Robert and how he fits into all of this. He knew there was a chance the baby was his and that was reason enough to help me back then. Even though I told him I’d been with someone else.

  When I was pregnant, I told him there was a chance she wasn’t his and that she wasn’t his responsibility. My sweet daughter distracts me once again, bless her heart, as she picks up Dolly and knocks over every single block in the tower.

  Her shriek of happiness and the smile on her face is complete with what sounds like an evil laugh.

  “She’s playing with the blocks you got her, and she’s not going to be an engineer … she’s going to be Godzilla.” Again I find myself smiling, even in all this emotional turmoil with no easy outcome.

  “For real, though, I want to tell him … I should tell Robert too.”

  “Robert?” The single word comes out like the most offensive curse.

  “I don’t like secrets,” I say and the confession slips out a little lower and sadder than I intend.

  “It’s not a secret. It’s just—”

  “It’s just what?” I throw myself back on the bed and make sure my tone stays upbeat for Bridget’s sake. Her little ears hear everything. “It’s a secret. Robert should know and so should Brody.”

  “It would be different if you were in a serious relationship. Robert uses you—”

  “And I use him too,” I’m quick to reply, defending him.

  Renee pauses for a moment and then repeats herself, the same serious tone taking over. “It would be different if you gave either of them the impression that you were looking for something serious. Robert uses you and Brody may be gone in a week for all you know. You have to protect yourself and your daughter. Tell them when you’re ready and the blowback is minimal.”

  “Blowback?”

  “What if Robert throws you out?”

  “He wouldn’t do that and you know it.” It’s offensive that she would even say that. Robert is my friend and has always been there for me. I know she wishes things were different, but if I had to get over it, so does she.

  “What if Brody’s the father and he leaves you and then Robert leaves you too?”

  “He said his bar is going to be where the old hardware store was.” I remember the conversation last night. We could have talked for hours, but I had to get home for Bridget and also make it clear that I wasn’t looking for the same thing I was looking for years ago. “They’re just waiting on paperwork.”

  “And?” Renee pushes, adding, “It’s his friend’s name on the paperwork. Not Brody’s.”

  “What?”

  “You know I have friends in all the right places. For all we know, Brody could be lying about sticking around. He could hightail it out of here the second you mention Bridget.”

  My throat’s too tight and itchy, just like the back of my eyes are with the tears threatening to fall at how blunt Renee is.

  “You need to protect yourself and your daughter. So when you feel the time is right and safe to do so, you can tell them and they aren’t entitled to a second sooner than that.”

  “Right.” I manage to get out the single word. “But what’s the difference between today and tomorrow? Nothing’s going to change. There are always going to be those risks.”

  “What could change is how much you know Brody.”

  She’s got a point. The little devil on my shoulder nods as I bite down on my thumbnail. I can only nod, gathering up my composure as I watch Bridget stack the blocks once again. She’s my everything and we’ll be fine with or without them.

  Renee’s right. It’s not serious with the men in my life. But Bridget’s upbringing is serious and I need to know more about Brody other than that he makes me laugh. The way he looks at me makes me blush. And I love it when he takes a drink of beer because he licks his lower lip after and I find it to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Word around town is that you two had a good night.”

  “He tried to kiss me at the door.”

  “Your front door?”

  “No.” My smile widens as I remember the night. “He didn’t want to do anything that might tarnish my reputation. So he got me an Uber to take me back home and he tried to kiss me goodnight on the sidewalk outside the restaurant.”

  “What a gentleman,” Renee says and I can hear her eye roll in the comment. He’s trying, I think to myself.

  “He really thinks I freaked because I’m ashamed we had a one-night stand years ago.” I laugh at the ridiculousness.

  Silence from Renee and a squeal of delight along with the clatter of falling blocks from Bridget. “He invited me to go sailing with him. Technically he invited both of us. I could tell him then.”

  “That sounds like a good plan. I’ll watch Bridget while you’re out, I don’t want to get in between that.” I almost bring up Griffin, but she continues bef
ore I can say another word. “If you feel like it’s right, you can tell him you have a daughter. See how he reacts to that.”

  “That sounds like a white lie, Renee.” The scolding is evident in my tone and Bridget glances up at me. I plaster on a wide smile and reach down, letting my sleep shirt ride up so I can snag a stray block and toss it onto her pile.

  “I’m going on this date and I’m going to tell him.”

  “Okay, okay,” Renee says, giving up the fight. “Tell him. But wait until you’re back on land to tell him. Just in case he really is a serial killer ... a rather handsome and seemingly sweet serial killer who makes cute babies.”

  Brody

  “I wish your grandfather taught me how to do that,” Griffin calls out and his voice is almost lost in the salty breeze as I tie the rope.

  He’s already one beer deep, lying back on the deck chair and soaking up the sun. Not that I’m not getting sun myself. It’s too hot for my shirt so I’m only in my board shorts as I get the rig ready to set sail.

  “Yeah right. Like you’d be helping and not doing exactly what you’re doing now.” My joking response gets a laugh from him. Being out here this early has reminded me of one thing: I love sailing; I love this boat too. If Sam is serious about selling it, I may buy it from him.

  My grandfather would have loved it. When he passed four years ago, I thought he might leave me his boat. He did, but he left a lot more than just that.

  I had all the money a twentysomething could need to start up whatever company I wanted or sail around the world for a year traveling. That didn’t do a damn thing to help me get over it, though.

  His passing was sudden and unexpected. It’s something I may have come to terms with now, but I’ll never “get over it.”

  I kept his handwritten note to me from the will in my pocket for years and barely touched the money. It took me a while to get back on a boat again, but I couldn’t bring myself to sail it. It’s his and he’s the one who should be sailing it. Maybe I’ll bring it down here. So many maybes are sounding off in my head recently.

  “Any update on the permits?” I ask Griffin as I step down from the deck to meet him for a beer.

  “Not yet.” His answer is accompanied with the pop of a bottle cap and then it clinks, the thin metal hitting a bucket to the left of Griffin’s cooler. Two meetings now have been canceled and pushed back. We just need the meeting to actually happen. Politics are frustrating the hell out of me.

  “All right,” I say and it’s all I can answer, not knowing how long these things usually take. It’s the weekend, and I’m certain there isn’t a bureaucrat willing to work on the weekend when they could be out on the water. Although for a new bar and a decent beer you would think they might sign a paper or two. A huff of a laugh leaves me. “We’ll get it soon enough.”

  Taking a sip, I look out to the horizon, trying to ignore the anxiousness of getting the bar up and running. I can already see Magnolia walking through the front doors, her blue eyes widening as she takes in the place.

  With an asymmetric smile curling up my lips, I nod again at Griffin when he agrees, “Soon. It’ll all go through soon.”

  My gaze follows the shades of pink that blend seamlessly into the early morning horizon. It’s time to set sail, as my grandfather would say. I swear, every time we went out, he’d announce it just before pulling up the anchor. That’s one memory of him I’ll always have.

  “Well, good morning,” Griffin calls out behind me, bringing me back to the present. With his beer lifted in salute, I turn to see Magnolia, a slight blush in her cheeks.

  The dress she’s wearing over a simple white bathing suit that hugs her curves delectably, is nearly sheer. It’s only a cover-up with a dark blue paisley design and the color matches both the flip-flops she wears and the rim of the sunglasses propped up on her head, pushing back her beautiful blond locks. Her wavy blond hair sways as she comes close to the boat on the dock.

  It takes a subtle kick from Griffin to get me moving to help her board.

  “Twenty footer?” Magnolia asks casually, slipping her glasses down and pushing her hair out of her face. A white straw sun hat is in her right hand with a purse in her left, but she’s quick to slip that to her elbow so she has a spare hand.

  “Twenty-two,” I tell her and hold out my hand for her to take. The second her soft hand reaches mine, heat travels through me. Small sparks ignite and judging by how quick she is to board and let go, and how her bottom lip drops before a simper appears on her beautiful expression, she felt it too.

  A moment passes with her glancing at my hand, avoiding my gaze, and looking past me at the sunrise. “It’s beautiful.” I almost miss her comment altogether, the wind picking up and carrying away the words.

  “Look at you, Miss Southern Belle.” I hadn’t noticed Griffin standing in the cockpit. “Welcome aboard,” he says, greeting her with the charm I typically have.

  Running a hand over my hair, I watch him help Magnolia down to sit across from him before eyeing me with a look that says, “What the hell, man?”

  Yeah, I know. She’s got me off my game.

  I don’t know what it is about her. Maybe the chase, maybe the memories of that night and the fact that the chemistry is all still there. I don’t know, but whatever it is, I need to shake it off.

  Griffin’s not exactly the best when it comes to charm, so the fact that he’s one-upping me is a sign that things are bound to go wrong.

  “Just to be clear, I plan on getting a little sunbathing in.” I don’t miss how Magnolia’s gaze drops to my chest, then my abs, as I prepare the boat. “If that’s all right with you,” she adds and her voice is lowered, once again her gaze refusing to meet mine.

  “Me too,” Griffin says, taking his shirt off and grabbing the sunscreen.

  With the two of them getting comfortable, I go through the motions and Griffin joins me, doing his part and leaving the sunscreen with Magnolia.

  It’s only once we’re out, the waves lapping at the sides of the boat that Magnolia speaks up. “You weren’t kidding,” she calls out above the sounds of the ocean that surrounds us.

  “What’s that?” I yell back against the wind, still manning the steering wheel. We’re not heading out far, just a bit of privacy and open air is all we want.

  When she stands to make her way to me, she slips off the cover-up, tossing it on top of her clutch and hat that now sit beside the cooler in the cockpit.

  “You’re pretty darn good,” she says and this time there’s no sound at all except for the sweet compliment that comes from those lips. She stands closer than she needs to, her arm brushing against mine and with a slight rock of the boat against stubborn waves, she braces herself against me, but quickly rights herself. I’m grateful for the contact, though, and the fact that she wants to be here next to me.

  “Well thanks. I’m glad you came to see me in action.” I smile and try to think of something to say, something charismatic, but not a damn thing comes to me. She’s breathtaking, she’s sweet … but she already knows that. Our gaze is locked and I know she’s waiting on something else as the salty air whips by us and she leans closer to me, her fingers brushing against the wooden helm although she doesn’t try to take it over. She’s just feeling her way.

  “Does everyone call you Mags?” Griffin interrupts the moment and thank God he does. I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding when she nods a yes and she and Griffin joke about something. I can’t even hear what; I’m too busy giving myself a pep talk to get my shit together.

  Something about her has me tongue tied. Could be the fact that I’m hard as a rock for her and it’s a bit difficult to hide in these shorts. I think of everything and anything to rectify that situation.

  Other than my lack of a brain when she’s around me, everything is easygoing. The conversation flows and I was right to think Griffin would only put Magnolia at ease.

  Something’s still off, though. Every so often she looks at me fro
m the corner of her eye and I don’t know what she’s searching for, but whatever it is, she isn’t finding it if the look on her gorgeous face is anything to go by.

  “You all right?” I ask her when I catch her doing it again.

  “Yeah, it’s just …”

  I don’t speak up when she hesitates. I wait for her to get whatever it is off her chest. She didn’t tell me the other night whatever it was that bothered her. Might as well get it over with now that the awkwardness is gone. Well, her awkwardness. I’m obviously still working on mine.

  “It looked like just from a distance, you know … like you might be having a hard morning or something?”

  “What do you mean?” A deep crease settles in my forehead.

  “This morning … I might have been watching you for a bit … before I got on the boat.”

  A gruff chuckle leaves me. “I’m fine,” I answer with the lie, pretending like I don’t know what she’s talking about even though I know damn well she must’ve seen me when I was thinking of Gramps. I can barely get a grip on the easy stuff. Heavy shit can wait till another day.

  Quick to change the subject back to something we both enjoy, I tell her, “I see why you love it here.”

  “Yeah, the ocean, the sun … the town’s not too bad either.”

  I join her when she laughs although I pick up on the dampened tone when she brings up the town.

  “Small towns can be rough from what I’ve heard.”

  “Every place has its ups and downs but I do love it here.”

  “You going to live here forever?”

  “Well, I haven’t thought about ‘forever’ yet. It’s hard with—” She stops speaking abruptly but her mouth stays parted, like she realized she was going to say something she doesn’t want to.

  “Hard with what?”

  “With what happened a few years back. I didn’t tell you … I left that morning, the morning after we met because I had a family emergency and it turned into the worst time of my life.”