Читать книгу Shelter In The Tropics - Cara Lockwood - Страница 12

CHAPTER THREE

HE’S GONE. MAYBE I can avoid him for the coming week he’s here, Cate thought as she watched Tack’s tall, lean form leave the lobby and felt a little breath of relief escape her. Something about him... And it wasn’t just his intelligent eyes and capable hands, either. Something about him just screamed trouble. Just because she went all gooey in his arms didn’t mean she ought to ignore her instincts. They’ve got me this far. I’ll need to keep my guard up. Cate almost laughed to herself. When did she ever let her guard down? She’d chosen a life where she now had to look over her shoulder every day. But it was better than the life she had with Rick. There was no doubt in her mind about that.

“Did you hear me?” Mark asked her as he drew her attention back to him. “We’re in the red, Cate. Big time. I’m not sure how we’re going to keep the lights on next month if we don’t get more guests here.”

Cate sighed. This was becoming nearly a daily conversation with Mark. “I know.”

“We need to do more marketing,” Mark insisted, tapping his open palm. “More Yelp. More social media.”

“No.” It came out harsher sounding than she intended. “And you know why.”

And he did. Mark had been there almost from the beginning of her escape. He was the one who got her a fake passport, who snuck her out of the country.

Cate had met Mark by chance at one of the big charity galas Rick so liked to attend. Her ex always wanted everyone to think he was so generous, so magnanimous. Cate remembered watching Rick from the corner of the elegantly appointed hotel ballroom, sipping a glass of expensive champagne, thinking about how she felt like she was suffocating.

“You’re mine,” he’d said in the limo ride over. He’d clutched at her arm in the back seat, his hand a metal cuff, his fingers digging into her flesh like teeth. “You and my son. Don’t you ever forget it.”

How could she ever? He treated his wife and son like possessions, toys that belonged to him, to do with as he pleased. To the outside world, he was the reclusive billionaire, the mysterious genius who’d turned over one amazing land deal after another but never granted an interview. But no one knew the dark, brooding, insecure man like Cate did. No one knew how much he secretly drank, how hard he worked to make the small, elite circle who did know him think he was charming, how desperate he was to keep things in his control. The lengths he’d go to make sure they stayed that way.

When she’d first met him, she thought he’d just loved her more than anyone else had loved her. He was dogged in his pursuit, determined to have her, and she’d been flattered. That was the truth of it. At first, she thought his intense interest was a compliment, a testament to his love. She never dreamed it would become so twisted.

Then, inexplicably, there at the ball, watching him surrounded by a small circle of admirers and sycophants, watching him pretend to be the man he wasn’t, she felt sick to her stomach. She’d glanced at herself in a mirrored column and saw to her dismay a bruise blooming on her upper arm. She realized she’d sweated off some of her concealer, and it was the middle of the summer so she wore no wrap for her sleeveless gown. How could she be so stupid? She felt exposed and desperate to cover it up.

“Are you all right?” Carol had asked, a woman she didn’t even know, with her husband by her side, a sympathetic look on his face.

It was that small act of kindness that underlined just how long it had been since someone was kind and considerate, that broke her. She started to lose it. Her hands shook. Tears sprung to her eyes, and tears would only wash away the caked concealer she’d used to cover the fading bruise on her cheek. Cate remembered Carol had somehow steered her to the bathroom. How she’d remarked on the bruise on her arm. “I don’t think you’re all right at all,” she’d said. “How can I help?”

She’d graciously accepted Carol’s tissues but told her she’d be fine.

“Here,” Carol had said, handing her a business card with their Caribbean address. The two had been in town only for the charity event, one they attended every year. “My husband used to be a lawyer. We can help you. When...it’s the right time.”

It was only a few months later, when everything went so terribly wrong, so out of control, that she reached out to them for help. She’d be eternally grateful they answered the call. She felt someone up there was looking out for her that night. A chance encounter with kind strangers would save her life. Yet even now, three years later, she was still scared, still worried that it wasn’t over.

“I know this doesn’t make sense,” she said. “I know we should do more advertising...but...”

“You’re scared.” Mark always seemed to know what she was thinking. “There’s no link to your old life. I made sure of that,” Mark said. She knew he was right. Before he retired early and moved his family to the Caribbean, Mark had spent his career helping clients set up shell companies so they could hide things they didn’t want found. But Rick Allen was never one to take no for an answer. He always used to say you don’t build a billion-dollar empire by giving up. How many different ways had he told her the Allen family didn’t have quit in their blood?

After what she’d done to him... After how she’d left him...

She shuddered. No, he’d never give up. Not now.

“We don’t have to use pictures of you. We could find a way to advertise this without...putting you out there. We have to do something.”

“I know. I know we do.” Cate felt the sudden weight on her shoulders. If they didn’t make this resort work, then what? Cate had pawned the jewelry she felt couldn’t be traced back to her. But she still had the quarter-million-dollar engagement ring. Though, if she sold that, she knew it would come back to her. He’d had it custom made, and probably had every major jeweler looking for it. She had more real estate, too, adjacent to the resort, but she’d been hoping to keep that. Expand the hotel in better times.

“Besides, maybe he’s stopped looking for you.” Mark met Cate’s gaze, but even he didn’t believe those words.

“You know he won’t.”

Mark sighed. “I know.” He glanced toward the hallway, where Tack had walked, and shook his head. “Maybe we should hire that new guest for extra muscle. He’s built like a wall and what is he? Like six-four? He feels like a cop.”

“He’s a former marine.”

“Yeah, I saw the seabag,” Mark said, and grinned. “If he were your bodyguard, you know who wouldn’t even dream of coming near you.”

“I’m not so desperate that I’m going to go recruiting our guests, Mark.” Though, she had to admit, the thought of Tack by her side made her shiver just a little. She glanced at her watch and realized it was time to pick up her son from preschool. “I need to get Avery. We’ll talk about this later?”

“We’ll have to,” Mark grumbled.

* * *

THE SMALL PRESCHOOL sat in a cluster of palm trees next door to the island’s only aquarium, a tiny but clean building mostly frequented by tourists with kids. A pretty glass mural of a sea turtle swimming in gleaming green water kicked back the light. In the parking lot, iguanas sunned themselves on the stucco path, not even bothering to move as Cate walked by, her big straw bag slung over one shoulder. The sound of little kids laughing found her, and she walked back around to the fenced-in play yard. She saw Avery climbing up the ladder of a slide, his curly blond hair flying into his eyes as he sped down the plastic chute.

“Mommy!” he cried as he saw her and bounded to the gate. Her heart felt like it might explode. She felt this way every time she looked at her son, unable to believe that such a sweet boy had come from her...and Rick. The minute he was born, Cate remembered vowing that she’d protect him from every harm the world had to offer. Even if that harm might come from his own father.

The preschool teacher nodded at Cate, recognizing her and opening the gate from the inside. Avery bounded into his mother’s arms and squeezed her neck tightly.

“Avery!” she cried as she scooped him up, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “How are you today, bud?”

“I made a crown!” he told her, showing her the construction-paper craft he’d decorated with markers and glitter. “It means I’m king!” His green eyes sparkled in delight.

“You sure are,” she said, and hugged him a little tighter, whipping his too long honey-colored hair from his face. “And the king needs a haircut.”

“Aw. Weally?” His adorable lisp temporarily disarmed her. As did the truly disappointed look in his green eyes. They were her green eyes. Every time she looked at Avery she saw herself. She was grateful for that. Though, of course, there were reminders of Rick. In the way Avery smiled sometimes, the expressions on his face. But Avery was all rainbows and sunshine, a bright ball of love and nothing like Rick in all the ways that mattered.

“Yes, really, sire. You need a cut.” She mussed his soft hair and he laughed. Cate carried him over to her little hatchback.

“Look, Mommy. Blue! My favorite color,” Avery said, grabbing the crown and showing her his scribbles. He might just be four, but he was an expert at diversional tactics.

“Blue is pretty, honey.” She was strapping him into his car seat when he held up the crown.

“Do you think Daddy likes blue?”

The question stopped her in her tracks. Avery had gone nearly a year without even mentioning his dad. Now, suddenly, here he was asking questions.

“I don’t know, sweetie.” She tried to keep her voice steady. Rick didn’t have a favorite color. Not that she knew of. If he did, he’d probably get a copyright and then declare that color off-limits to everyone else, she thought.

“Do you think there’s a lot of blue in heaven? Where Daddy lives?”

“I don’t know.” Cate felt rattled by the questions. More so than usual. She also felt an unexpected pang of guilt. Yes, she’d told her boy his father was dead. That was a lie, but what else could she do? Tell her perfect little boy the truth?

Your father is a monster.

No. She never wanted him to know that. Because Avery wasn’t anything like his father, and she planned to keep it that way.

“I bet you’re hungry,” she said instead. “Ready for dinner?”

Avery nodded. “Snack!” he demanded, opening up his hands.

Cate knew the fifteen-minute drive back to the resort would be a lot easier with a few crackers than without. Besides, the boy burned through calories. He needed to eat every ten minutes, so there was almost zero chance of spoiling his dinner.

“Want some graham crackers?”

“Yes!” he cried with enthusiasm. She grabbed the Ziploc snack bag filled with animal-shaped grahams and handed it to him. Feeling relieved, she made her way to the driver’s seat and looked forward to a nice, quiet dinner, before the rest of the guests. Not that there were that many, she thought. The resort was less than half full. It was one of the reasons Mark wanted to do more advertising. And she should, she guessed. She should get over this irrational idea that ads would somehow catch Rick’s attention.

She wouldn’t be in any of the ads, and she could use a picture of the resort on social media. She needed to let go of the fear that drove her. She knew it didn’t make sense. But fear never did.

She pulled up to the resort, noticing the mostly empty parking lot. Her stomach sank. What would she do if the resort went under? When she sold her jewelry—the only thing she took from Rick Allen—she’d put much of it into the hotel. Mark had suggested it. He could be the public face of the resort, and she could be a silent investor, hidden away from the public and from anyone who could recognize her.

Then it had been booming, and she thought it was a sound investment. Of course, that was before the island opened itself up to the big cruise ships. Now, fewer people came to St. Anthony’s to stay. Most opted for a floating hotel, and that meant letting staff go and her taking on a larger role in the resort. She saw two big liners off in the distance. She wondered how many of her guests they’d stolen in the last year.

How many different ways had Rick told her she wasn’t capable of doing anything on her own? There were the hundreds of small household decisions he’d called into question: How could you let the gardener plant those ugly shrubs? Am I wrong, or were you supposed to be supervising him? And then there was the time she wanted to try writing a novel, but he’d ridiculed her mercilessly and in front of others: Cate wants to write. God, can you imagine? A romance! Lord help us. He’d even had an opinion about what she wore: You don’t even know what looks good on you, Cate. How did you last this long with me? When she got upset, he’d tell her she was overreacting. That it was her fault. After all, there was never anything wrong with Rick Allen. The problem had to be with her.

She’d been with him five years, married for three, but in some ways it felt like a life sentence. His nagging voice in her head never quite seemed to go away. He was always telling her something was wrong with her—she wasn’t smart enough, wasn’t interesting enough, wasn’t pretty enough. She got now that it was his way of controlling her, just another aspect of the abuse. But while the bruises healed, the insults and criticisms just festered, wounds that never seemed to scab over.

Maybe I’m not smart enough to run this resort. Maybe Rick was right.

The second the evil thoughts weaseled their way into her head, she pushed them out once more. She was done letting Rick push her around, whether that was physically or in her own head. You’d never survive out there without me, he’d told her once. Well, that’s just not true, she thought, I’m surviving just fine.

She killed the ignition and glanced at the resort.

For now, at least.

Cate bustled Avery out of the car, carrying his fire truck backpack, and steered him straight into the lobby and to the dining room, where the dinner buffet was just being set up. She looked at all the food—the simple fish fillets and bright veggies prepared with such loving care by the cooks in the kitchen—and felt a bit of sadness. It was lovely, but couldn’t touch the amazing buffets of the good old days with fresh crab legs and delicate sushi rolls. The scaled-back buffet was a shadow of its former self. She steered Avery to his favorite spot, near the window looking out to the blue-green water, and turned to head back to the food.

She piled on chicken strips and apple slices, and then hesitated at the broccoli, wondering if it would be too much of a fight to get him to eat some. She felt a sudden presence by her elbow.

“Hi, Cate,” came the deep, unmistakably sexy voice. She knew before looking who stood there.

Cate nearly dropped the plate as she whirled away from the buffet. So much for avoiding the man.

“Tack,” she cried, surprised, her heart rate doubling as she took in his tall frame. The man moved like a big cat. She hadn’t even heard him approach. He’d changed and now wore a linen button-down, short-sleeved, pale blue shirt and khaki cargo shorts. His face broke into an easy smile, and she felt her stomach clench as she looked at his clean-shaven tanned face. She’d just seen him earlier that afternoon, but it seemed in that time he’d managed to get sexier, if such a thing was possible.

“Uh...the dining room is closed,” she managed to say, though the gruff way it came out made her want to kick herself. Why was she being so rude?

Tack grinned, and nodded at the buffet and the plate in her hands. “It looks pretty open to me.” He seemed completely unruffled by her, and even worse, he wasn’t leaving. “Mind if I...join you?”

“Uh...I’m eating with my son...” She nodded toward the table where Avery was happily pretending his snack cup was a car, and making it zoom across the table.

“I love kids,” Tack said smoothly. “I don’t want to brag, but I’ve been told I’m the world’s greatest uncle. I might just have a mug that says the same thing.”

He flashed another bright white smile, and all of the excuses as to why she wouldn’t want a handsome stranger to join her rushed from her mind.

She giggled a little, feeling like she was thirteen again and standing by the lockers in front of the cutest boy in school. Get it together, Cate. He’s not interested in you, anyway. You’re not nearly pretty enough for him. Not without all the expensive jewelry and clothes that Rick said made you an “eight” when you were naturally just a “six.”

Tack reached behind her to get a plate, and his strong arm brushed her elbow. She was hyperaware of every movement he made. She realized, suddenly, she was still holding her son’s half-filled plate, watching Tack reach for scalloped potatoes. She decided to leave the broccoli and opted for raw carrots instead, then headed back with a cup of juice to the table, where she plunked the plate in front of her little boy. He went for the chicken fingers first, naturally, and happily chomped his food while she turned back to the buffet. Deliberately, she started on the opposite side as far from Tack as she could get, though it wasn’t long before he was again by her side.

“What do you recommend?” he asked her, dark eyes studying her. Her mouth went a little dry beneath the intensity of his gaze.

“Everything is good,” she said. “But you should try the conch chowder. It’s the island specialty.” She nodded toward the soup bowl on the other side of the glass-partitioned buffet. She thought it would be better if she could move him from her side, but when he walked around, she realized now, he was right in front of her, glass buffet or not, and he was watching her even as he ladled soup into a small bowl. If he was going to study her like that, she might not be able to eat. Her once growling stomach now exploded into a riot of nerves. Why did the man make her so nervous?

She managed to keep her eyes on the broiled fish she scooped onto her plate, then she moved on to the steamed veggies. He watched her every move. She made the mistake of glancing up at him once, and they made eye contact. She held his gaze for a beat too long, unable to break free. It had been so long since a man had been this focused on her.

Not since Rick, she thought.

She glanced down at her own frumpy cutoffs, her faded T-shirt and flip-flops. She wasn’t even wearing any makeup, and she’d swept up her hair into a messy, careless knot at her nape. She had no idea why Tack studied her like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. It made her uneasy.

She hurriedly finished filling her plate and then scurried it back to her son’s table. The faster I eat, the faster I can get away from that man.

Cate sat and Tack followed, slipping into the chair opposite her. His shoulders were enormous, she decided, like a well-muscled wall, sitting in front of her. It was going to take effort to eat with this hulking man sitting at the table.

Avery just grinned at the stranger. “Hi! I’m Avery,” he said, beaming. The boy wasn’t the least bit shy. Raised in a resort, he was more than used to strangers. Mark had joked that they ought to put the boy out in the lobby as a concierge.

“Hi, Avery. I’m Tack.”

“Nice to meet you,” the precocious four-year-old said. He grinned. “You’ve got lots of muscles. Are you Captain America?”

“Avery,” Cate said reprovingly, feeling the blush of embarrassment creep up her neck. The air-conditioning suddenly seemed a little too weak in the room. Leave it to a preschooler to say exactly what’s on his mind.

“He’s in a superhero phase,” she said, apologetically.

“I’m not Captain America,” Tack said, trying to sound serious. “But I used to be a marine, actually. First Lieutenant Thomas Reeves, at your service. I might know a thing or two about saving the day.”

“I knew it! You are a superhero! Can you fly?”

“Oh, now you’ve started it,” Cate said, and Tack chuckled a little.

Over Tack’s shoulder, Cate saw Carol peek out from the door to the kitchen. The woman was spying! When she was caught, she gave Cate a huge thumbs-up, and that’s when Cate knew somehow that this was all Carol’s doing. It would be just like her to try to set her up on some kind of date. Carol was under the misguided impression that Cate was lonely, that she needed a man’s company. Cate had sworn off men. She didn’t trust herself to pick a good one, and she’d never, ever be beholden to one again.

Tack took a sip of soup and nodded his appreciation at the taste of the conch chowder.

“My daddy can fly,” Avery said suddenly. “He’s an angel in heaven.”

Cate nearly spit out her food. Tack coughed, as if the soup had gone down the wrong way. He coughed louder, face turning red as he gave his chest a hard pat.

“Is that right?” he managed to say, recovering.

Now Cate really wanted to be anywhere but here. Carol was still spying, and she sent her what she hoped was a look of stern disapproval.

“I don’t have a dad. Do you want to be my dad?” Avery asked.

“Avery! That’s not...” Cate wanted the ground to open her up and swallow her whole.

Tack laughed a little. “Don’t worry. It’s okay. Well, how about we see first if we can get through dinner, all right, champ?”

Cate had never felt more embarrassed in her whole life. The table sunk into silence then, the only sound the clink of Tack’s spoon on his soup bowl. Tack seemed to be preoccupied, no doubt thinking she was the most desperate woman on earth. She’d not put Avery up to that, though, she swore.

That’s when Cate saw Carol bustle out of the kitchen, seeming determined.

Oh, no. This was not going to be good.

“Everything all right here?” Carol said brightly. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, we’re fine.” Cate wanted Carol to go away. Besides, this was a buffet, not table-side service.

“So, Mr. Reeves, I know it’s your first trip to St. Anthony’s. Do you snorkel?” She barreled on, not picking up on the cue from Tack’s now-somber face that he probably wasn’t interested in any tour. He looked like a man who wanted to escape. Not that Cate blamed him. Kids at all were a nonstarter for most men, but kids talking about dead fathers and wanting new dads were probably more serious deal breakers.

“Snorkel?” Tack looked momentarily taken aback.

Cate knew exactly what Carol was doing. She was talking about the boat tour around the island that Cate led every morning around ten.

“I’m sure Mr. Reeves has other things to do with his first morning on vacation,” Cate said.

Tack studied her. “Well, I...”

“Cate gives the best tours, and she knows the best snorkeling spots. She leads a group every morning...”

Cate mentally shook her head. No, Carol. No! She tried very hard to telepathically tell her friend to stop what she was doing. The last thing she needed was Tack on board her boat at nine in the morning.

“I love to snorkel. Sounds like fun.” Tack stared at Cate as he said that. Avery happily chomped his chicken tender and Carol just beamed, like she’d won a prize at the state fair. Oh, she’d won a prize, but it wasn’t anything she’d like, Cate thought. She’s going to get an earful when I get her alone.

“The boat is already full,” she lied. Only four other guests had booked a trip for the morning. And two of them were simply strong maybes. The boat could hold ten easily.

“One already canceled just this afternoon,” Carol said. “You’ve got room for one more.” The woman wasn’t going to let this go. The steely look in her eyes told her she was not going to be deterred from this matchmaking mission. Tack quirked an eyebrow, almost as if daring her to deny him now.

“All right,” Cate said, giving in. There was no use fighting them both.