Barefoot at Moonrise (Barefoot Bay Timeless Book 2) (27 page)

He touched her cheek, much the way she’d touched his, but not because it was dirty. Because it was gorgeous. “You’re cute when you’re mad.” He lifted her chin, closed the space, and put his lips on hers. “Babe.”

He could feel her smile under his lips, but the sound of Irish’s boots broke the moment. “I got it, but the duct in there is single-walled, too.”

“What is single-walled?” she asked. “And why don’t I know that?”

“Because it’s something firefighters notice. Single-walled is not code, though a lot of inspectors miss it,” Ken said. “When we see fires and carbon monoxide leaks, it’s usually because of crappy venting.” He opened the stool to stand on it, almost immediately losing his balance.

“Oh, you have to stand on the right side,” she said with a laugh. “I know I need a new one. It came with the house.”

Standing on the right side of the step stool, Ken tapped the vent, giving his head a very serious shake. “Irish, do you have a portable CO detector in your truck?”

“I might. Lemme look.”

“Bring it to her closet.” He jumped off the stool, and Beth blocked his way.

“That’s not necessary.”

“Are you kidding? You could have a slow carbon monoxide leak into your bedroom. I’m not letting that go.”

“There’s a detector in the hall.”

“They aren’t one hundred percent reliable, Beth. When’s the last time you changed the battery?” He picked up the step stool, but she sidestepped and blocked him again.

“It passed inspection, and you don’t have time to do this today. You need to take that tub to the scrap guy and be ready for dinner tonight. It’s important.”

He gave her a look. “So’s your health. And my baby’s.”

Beth’s shoulders sagged with resignation. “All right. But my closet is…a mess. I’ll help you navigate it.”

“I want to see your mess,” Ken said, with a quick kiss, and got by her to go into her bedroom. He headed for the walk-in closet, which wasn’t a mess at all.

“Hey, somebody give me a hand!” Irish called from the front. “Sally got out.”

Ken was already up one step. “Oh man, can you get her? She’ll sniff her way six houses from here in no time.”

Beth hesitated, looking up to the top shelf where some storage bins sat right under the vent in question.

“I got this, Beth. Please get Sally.”

“Sally!” Irish called out. “Don’t go in the street!”

Beth pivoted instantly and darted down the hall, leaving Ken to wonder what the hell that was all about. Remembering to lean to the right—and making a mental note to throw this damn step stool away because it was an accident waiting to happen—he reached up to the clear plastic box that prevented him from getting to the vent.

He pulled it out, but a bunch of papers were on top and fell right into his face, forcing him to turn away as they all fluttered to the floor.

And now her closet
was
a mess. He stepped down and put the box on the ground, right on top of a paper that said…

Coronor’s Autopsy Report
.

He froze. Why would she have…

A shudder ran up and down his spine as the realization hit. The papers her dad gave her, the files about his father’s death. The autopsy.

Don’t read it. Don’t read it. Don’t read it.

But his hands ignored the mental warning, lifting up the plastic box that covered the paper that had fallen to the floor. His mother had never let him see the autopsy. She’d told him it would be too upsetting.

No more than the moment his father died in his arms.

Ken stared at the page, the words swimming. This was crazy. Stupid. It was going to put him in a foul mood on the very night he had to fake nice with the man who’d caused the reason this autopsy had to be performed.

Outside, he could hear Beth calling the dog. Heard Irish laugh and Sally bark. It all faded far away as he lifted the document and flipped to the next page. More ugly words, impersonal descriptions, facts that didn’t—

Blood Alcohol Content: .15%

He shook his head, certain he was reading it wrong—.15 percent? That would’ve made him legally drunk. What? His father hadn’t been drunk! He’d have known or smelled booze on him.

What the—

Sally’s sharp bark right outside the closet made him look up, and right on her heels, Beth, her gaze dark, worried, and…sympathetic.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this, Beth?”

“I couldn’t because—”

“Because it’s not true!” His voice rose to a yell, making Sally whimper and drop to her belly on the ground.

“Hey, Captain, I don’t have a—”

“I don’t need it!” He stepped out of the closet, shaking, actually seeing spots of red he was so mad. “Meet me in the truck, Irish. I’ll be there in one minute.”

At his tone, Irish inched back. “Sure. Um, bye, Beth.”

“Bye, Billy. Thank you.” Beth’s voice was tentative and slight. She stayed rooted to her spot, staring at Ken, while they waited for Irish’s footsteps to fade and the front door to close.

“I didn’t tell you because you love your dad and his memory and—”

“It’s not true!” he shouted again. “Don’t you see, Beth? It’s a lie. Your father doctored official papers so he didn’t have to go to court and take the blame. And then he planted…that.” He gestured to the vile paper still on the carpet. “Forced my mother into a corner, shut her up to protect his reputation and your family, and lied about it.”

The words tasted like bile in his mouth, his hatred for Ray Endicott raging in his chest like a six-alarm inferno.

“No…no. He would never do that.”

“He
wouldn’t
?” He choked on the word. “Are you that naïve to think your father wouldn’t do whatever his millions could buy to save his company? He’s a damn puppeteer, doing whatever he wants and making people bend to his will. Including you.”

Her eyes widened. “I don’t bend to his will anymore.”

“But you will if you take up his offer to work for Endicott Development.” He shoved his hand through his hair, not surprised his fingers were actually trembling with fury. “You can’t do that, Beth. You can’t. I won’t allow it.”

She sucked in a breath, eyes wide. “I can if I want to,” she fired back. “If I think it’s what’s best for my life, my child—”

“
Our
child.”

“Who
I’m
carrying.”

So much for the magic
we
. Anger ripped through him as he breathed so hard his nostrils flared and neither of them spoke.

“Ken, you have to consider the possibility that what you read is true.”

“I don’t have to consider shit.” He gave the plastic lid a light kick with his boot. “Except the fact that your old man is a liar and has the money to cover his tracks and do it so effectively that
my
father looks like the criminal.”

“If it’s true, then—”

“It’s not,” he ground out.

She met his gaze, the pain in her eyes slicing him. “What if you’re wrong?”

“I don’t think I am.”

She stepped away, pulling the strands of caramel hair that had fallen out of a ponytail on another long and sad sigh. “We’ll never get past this point, will we?” she said, her voice tight. “It’s always going to come back to this. Your father. My father. Blame and guilt.”

“And a pack of lies.”

“Or truth. It doesn’t matter,” she said. “This will always be between us, ruining any chance we have.”

“You have your father to blame for that.”

Her eyes flashed. “
Blame
is going to strangle you and ruin your life, Ken Cavanaugh. Let it go.
Let it go
.”

He tried to swallow, but it was impossible. He could barely speak. “I can’t.”

She lifted a shoulder. “Then let me go. Your choice.”

He stood stone still, then without a word, he walked out of the closet and past her, heading down the hall. It was a small consolation that Sally followed.

But Beth didn’t. He’d made his choice, and obviously, she’d made hers.

Chapter Twenty-one

The last thing Beth wanted to do was go to dinner with her family at the resort in Barefoot Bay. She wanted to roll into a ball and wallow in her misery. She wanted to jump in her car and drive to Fort Myers and talk to Ken. She wanted to turn back time, at least to the night of the reunion so she’d never—

No. No, she didn’t want that.

She wanted this baby more than she’d ever wanted anything, with or without the support of a man who let his pride and his guilt and his endless blame game wreck his chance at happiness.

She still had a chance at happiness, and she’d never needed her family more.

So she took a deep breath and climbed out of her SUV in the parking lot of Casa Blanca Resort & Spa, a place she hadn’t visited since that fateful night on the beach two months ago.

She had a future flash, imagining a night maybe twenty years from now. She and her daughter would share a long talk, one of many—because they’d be like the Gilmore Girls and inseparably close—and Beth would tell her the whole story of her conception in a cabana on the—

“I can’t believe how nervous I am.”

Beth spun around at the familiar male voice and felt a smile pull. “RJ!” She reached for her younger brother and gave him a cursory hug, eager to meet the woman next to him. “And this must be Selina.”

She was shorter than Beth, with a little trepidation in her big brown eyes. “Beth?” she guessed.

“That’s me.” Beth reached out and gave her an impulsive hug, squeezing hard.

“I didn’t think you were Rebecca,” she said with a laugh.

“Not enough diamonds.” Beth held her at arm’s length and took a good look at the woman who would one day be her sister. Her skin was as dark and smooth as espresso and her smile genuine. “Congratulations,” Beth whispered, glancing down at Selina’s stomach. “How do you feel?”

“Better now.”

“Were you sick?”

“She’s been puking her guts out,” RJ said, putting a possessive arm around her.

“Really?” Beth asked. “Because I haven’t…” She caught herself. “Heard RJ say anything about that.”

“The worst is over now,” Selina said, lifting her brows. “Except for the ‘meeting the family’ part.”

“And dropping the bomb,” RJ added.

“You’re telling everyone about the baby tonight?” Then surely she should keep her own news quiet.

“Yep. And…” He reached down and lifted Selina’s hand, showing off a sparkly engagement ring. “I couldn’t wait any longer for some perfect job to materialize. We’re getting married here at Barefoot Bay in two months.”

Beth’s jaw dropped as the unexpected jagged edge of yearning dragged over her heart. “That’s awesome. I’m so happy for you.” She hugged them both again. “And you never know, RJ, that perfect job might materialize sooner than you think.”

“I’m ready,” he said, then glanced past Beth. “Landon said you were bringing that firefighter guy. Did he chicken out?” RJ asked.

“Something came up,” she said vaguely, covering the sadness in her voice by sliding between them and putting an arm around both. “I’m with you two.”

They all walked in, separating in the lobby so Selina could look around at the lush, Moroccan-inspired décor.

After a few minutes, they headed into Junonia and were escorted out to the expansive terrace where tables were set up overlooking Barefoot Bay.

And beyond the terrace, a row of yellow tented cabanas. Beth swallowed the lump that rose in her throat, almost unable to take her eyes off the last one.

That’s where she’d bring her daughter, someday. To tell her the story of how she was conceived. Would she even know Ken? Would they have a distant relationship or a warm one?

She shook off the thought and stepped down to the level where Rebecca, Landon, Dad, and Josie were already at a long table, drinking champagne.

“There you are!” Rebecca stood, and the rest followed, and all the hugs and hellos ensued while Beth braced for Landon’s questions about Ken.

But Rebecca wasted no time on that. “Where’s this firefighter we’ve been hearing so much about?”

Beth sort of shrugged and shook her head. “He’s…not able to make it, sorry.”

“Oh, well, there’s a chair for him. That will unbalance things.”

It would unbalance them a hell of a lot more if he were here, she thought. She sneaked a look at Dad, who had a little sympathy in his eyes. And circles underneath them.

She reached over and hugged him before sitting down across the table. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hi, honey.” He added a squeeze, but it wasn’t terribly strong.

Josie started nattering immediately as the waiter came to fill Beth’s champagne glass.

“I’ll have Pellegrino water,” she said.

“Beth, that’s not like you,” Rebecca said. “Have some champagne.”

But Beth glanced back up at the waiter and whispered, “Sparkling water for me.” She leaned closer to her father, searching his face again. “Did you have that doctor’s appointment, Dad?”