Barefoot by the Sea

Chapter Thirteen

It was the best time in the kitchen. After the resort brunch was served and cleaned up, the restaurant closed for the rest of the weekend, so on Sunday afternoons, the kitchen was dark, deserted, and very, very cozy.

Especially in the cold and dark dry-storage pantry, where two people could find a corner to kiss and whisper—and share secrets.

Except Marcus wasn’t sharing anything right now but tonsil hockey. Of course, they hadn’t been together in two days, so how could they keep their hands off each other?

“Come on.” Marcus tugged at the sleeve of Ashley’s hoodie. “Take your top off, babe.”

“It’s cold, Marc.”

He pulled her higher on his lap, right onto an epic-sized boner. “I’ll keep you warm,” he teased. “I won’t hurt you.”

Ashley laughed softly, repositioning herself into a straddle, enjoying the little fireworks that exploded between her legs as she moved over the firm ridge between his.

“Let’s just do this,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and humping like they did last time. “It’s fun.”

“Fun for you.” He slid a hand under her hoodie, finding his way beneath her T-shirt and heading north to her boob. They’d gone this far already, so it wasn’t like she could say no. They were headed…there. Fast. But she wasn’t sure she wanted her first time to be in the dry-storage pantry.

A different kind of heat slithered through her, making her stomach tighten but not in the way it did when she thought about how much she liked this boy. This was a different tightness. This was an ache. He was definitely the one. It was only a matter of time until she lost her virginity to him.

He got his thumb right over her nipple and pleasure and pain welled up so intensely she wanted to scream. All she wanted was more. And so did he.

After all, he wasn’t some stinking high school junior who’d be happy making out and getting the occasional feel. This was Marcus and he was a man, especially since he’d be twenty in two months.

He started pumping between her legs, his eyes closing, his hands wandering to her other boob. “You’re hot, Ashley.”

She tried to let the compliment warm her, kissing his face. “So are you.”

“Take this stupid thing off,” he murmured, fumbling with her bra, underlining the plea with a hard press of his crotch right into hers. Oh, man, that felt good. “I want to see you, Ashley. I want to see your sexy titties.”

She closed her eyes and tried to decide. She was seventeen, for crying out loud. It wasn’t like it was a huge deal.

“Don’t you like me?” he asked, coming around the back to her bra snap.

She wiggled to stop him. “You know I do. But we can just do this today, okay? Like last time?”

“You came in your jeans last time,” he said, pulling back.

Oh, she had. And it had felt so freaking good she almost cried.

“So we are not even, girl.”

True, she hadn’t returned the favor. Yet. “You can come in your jeans,” she offered, kind of hoping he didn’t want to take her up on that. But what was the alternative? She knew the alternative. Maybe she could just kiss him and not put the whole thing in her mouth.

He took her hand and dragged it down there, making her rub his hard-on over his jeans.

“C’mon, Ash. Touch me. Put your—” He jerked away, pushing her back. “Did you hear that?”

She hadn’t heard anything but the blood pounding in her head and way too many questions that didn’t seem to plague any of her friends who did all kinds of smexy stuff with their boyfriends.

“Listen, Marc, we—”

“Shh!” He held a hand up to her mouth. “Someone’s in the kitchen.”

Her mother! “Shit.” She scrambled off his lap, ice-cold fear replacing red-hot sexy in a blink.

“Quiet!” he demanded. “They might not come in here.”

“They?” she whispered? Her mom and Clay? Shit monkeys! Life was over. She listened for the telltale sound of a baby’s cry, because they wouldn’t go anywhere without Elijah. Not anywhere, including the volleyball parents’ meeting they’d missed and the parent-teachers’ conference they blew off last week. Not that they needed to know she was majorly effing up calculus, but—

“It’s John,” Marcus said. “The new chef.”

She scowled. “He’s moving into his bungalow today. What would he be doing here?”

“Be quiet, Ash. Maybe he’ll leave.”

Ashley stayed right where she was on the pantry floor, staring at the door handle, taking silent breaths of flour and fear. Would the chef come in here? Would she be in trouble? Would he tell her mother what she was doing and who she was with?

Because this new boyfriend was probably not going to go over big.

Ashley brushed her hands over her top and jacket. At least she hadn’t gone any farther.

The door handle moved, then stopped. She heard a voice, but couldn’t make out what he’d said. Who was he with? Aunt Tessa? She’d die if Tessa saw her here. And of course her mom would find out and blow a gasket.

“Go.” She pushed Marcus. “Go tell him you’re working or something and don’t let him see me.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause he’ll think I’m, like, a slut or something.”

Marcus looked at her. “Who cares? He’ll fire my ass if he catches me in the kitchen now.”

Who cares? She did. But she didn’t want Marcus to get fired, either. “Then tell him you’re doing inventory. You’ll get promoted, not fired.”

He looked at her, a mix of fear and hope in his dark, dark eyes. God, he was cute. “Please, Marc.”

The handle moved again and, to his credit, Marcus shot up, taking two long strides and opening it himself, using his body to block any view of the pantry. Ashley pushed to her feet and slipped out of view behind shelves.

“What are you doing here?” Marcus asked, sounding like the guiltiest person on earth.

“What are you doing here?”

“Um, just…” Inventory, you moron! “Working.”

Ashley closed her eyes and let out a silent grunt.

John pushed the door farther open. “Working on what?” he demanded, accusation in the question.

“You know, like, stuff that needs to be done.”

“In the pantry?” John asked. “What exactly are you doing in there?”

“Nothing, man. You don’t have to be a dick—”

“Marcus?”

Oh, gawd. Aunt Tessa was here.

“What’s going on?”

Marcus didn’t answer, but glanced to his side, where Ashley stood. Why not scream my name, pal? She gave him a pleading look and put her finger to her lips.

“I’m counting inventory,” he finally said.

“Counting inventory?” John definitely wasn’t buying it. “Or stealing inventory?”

“I’m not stealing anything!”

“Then let me in to see what you’re doing.”

Marcus stood frozen. “Tell him it’s cool, Tessa. I come in and do inventory a lot on Sundays for overtime.”

“Are you alone in there?” she asked.

Ashley almost slid back to the floor. Shit, shit, shit.

“Yeah,” he said, about as convincingly as a two-year-old with chocolate on his face. He started to step out of the pantry, carefully keeping them from coming in. “I’m done anyway.”

“You want to show me your jacket pockets?” John demanded.

Ashley’s jaw dropped. He really thought Marcus was a thief? Would Marcus subject himself to a search or sell her out? That would really tell her what he was made of, wouldn’t it?

“Eff you, John.”

“That’s Chef John to you. Empty your jacket pockets.”

From her hiding place behind the door, she couldn’t see Marcus’s face but could imagine the hot look of hatred he was giving John right now.

“Empty them or don’t come to work tomorrow.”

She heard a brushing of sound, probably his hoodie. “I don’t have anything, see?”

“What’s that?” Tessa asked.

Silence, then Marcus kind of laughed. “Like a Boy Scout, you know?”

“You take condoms into the pantry?”

Ashley closed her eyes and dropped her head back.

“Who’s in there?” John demanded.

Ashley put her face in her hands and bit back tears. She was so totally screwed.

“Nobody,” Marcus said.

She pulled her hands away, the first bit of hope curling through her. Of course he’d cover for her. He liked her. A lot. It wasn’t just sex.

“You’re in there alone?”

“Of course I am,” he said, his foot scuffing as he started to walk away. “Now I’m gonna book. See you guys tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you out,” John said.

“I’m cool, man.”

Ashley stood stone still, waiting for the door to close, for the nightmare to be over. Instead, it opened a little wider and a familiar dark-haired head peeked in. Ashley stayed stone still, holding her breath, praying Aunt Tessa wouldn’t see her hiding in the corner.

“Ashley?” No such luck. She walked in, frowning. “What are you…”

“He’s gone,” John said, walking right in behind her, then halting at the sight of Ashley. “Don’t tell me, you were working on the inventory with him.”

“She won’t tell you that,” Tessa said quietly. “Because Ashley doesn’t lie.”

Ashley gave her aunt-by-friendship a pleading look. “Please don’t tell my mom, Aunt Tessa.”

Tessa blew out a slow breath. “I’m going to walk Ashley home, John.”

And that might give Ashley time to make her case. She hoped.

Ashley was silent all the way out of the restaurant and onto the sands of Barefoot Bay, and Tessa racked her brain for the right way to handle this. Carefully, of course. Tenderly. With mature understanding and patience. Like a loving aunt, not a worried mother.

Ashley shot her an expectant look.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Tessa demanded. So much for tender and patient.

“Right now, I’m thinking that only I would have the luck to get busted by the aunt who would die before she kept a secret. Why couldn’t Aunt Zoe have come in there?”

“Zoe would kill you. I’m only going to yell. Ashley, what are you doing with him? He’s twenty years old!”

“Nineteen, so we’re only two years apart.”

By whose math? “He’s almost twenty and you just turned seventeen about five minutes ago.”

“Three weeks ago, Aunt Tess.”

“I don’t care.” She guided Ashley around some shellers, lowering her voice so they didn’t hear. “That’s too much of an age difference.”

“Age difference?” Ashley shot back. “My mom robbed the cradle.”

She suddenly sounded much, much younger than seventeen. And a lot more like the tempestuous and sometimes sullen young teen she’d been after the hurricane. Since then, Ashley had matured in so many ways.

Obviously, she’d matured as far as boys were concerned. “Ashley, Clay is only six years younger than your mother. And they’re both adults.”

She huffed out a breath. “I knew this was going to happen.”

“Look, I’m saying this as someone who loves you dearly and deeply. A boy his age—no, a man his age—is not appropriate for a girl who just turned seventeen.”

“Appropriate? Who even says that anymore?”

“You want me to spell it out? An almost-twenty-year-old young man is thinking about sex every minute of every day. I’ll bet a month’s salary you weren’t in there doing inventory.”

“I was saying no,” she said quickly but with not nearly enough conviction.

“He had a condom in his pocket.”

“At least he’s smart and careful.”

Tessa stopped suddenly, kicking up some sand. “Are you still a virgin?” The question slipped out with a little pain in her voice. Not that she had any right to ask or even that seventeen was that young, but she loved Ashley like she was her own daughter and she—

“Yes, Aunt Tessa,” she said, grabbing her arm and pulling her forward. “I am. I swear on my life, my name, and the Bible, I am a virgin.”

But Tessa hadn’t picked up speed yet. “You’re thinking about it, though, aren’t you?”

Ashley didn’t answer. Oh, boy. Oh, man.

“Ashley.” She slowed again to make her point. “Please be smart, and I don’t mean use protection. I mean say no.”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “I have.”

Tessa sighed a hearty breath of relief.

“So far.”

Damn. “You don’t want your first time to be with just anyone,” she said, choosing each word carefully. “And you sure don’t want it to be in the kitchen of your mom’s resort.”

Ashley closed her eyes. “Please don’t tell her.”

Tessa didn’t answer, unwilling to make promises she couldn’t keep. She zipped through a mental file, trying to remember what she knew about Marcus Lowell, other than that he’d been in trouble with the law once, dropped out of Mimosa High—or was kicked out—and came from one of the most broken homes on the island. Lacey had hired him as a personal favor to the sheriff, who was trying to give the kid another chance.

Okay, so not the Most Likely to Succeed from Mimosa High, but why would Ashley hide him from her mother and stepfather? “Why can’t I tell her?”

“Because”—she finally faced Tessa—“she’ll fire him.”

“Why would she do that?”

“For the same reason you’re marching me home like I’m nine years old and I stole a candy bar from the Super Min.”

“I still don’t understand why you can’t tell your mother you’re…” She glanced sideways. “What exactly is going on with this guy? He’s your boyfriend?”

“I guess.”

“You guess? You were condom-close in the pantry.” She tried not to think about how hypocritical that statement was, considering what she and John had done against the wall last night. Ten more minutes and she’d have been naked.

Then she had to blabber about a baby.

“Well, I like him and he likes me.”

“Of course he likes you.” Tessa toed a shell, barely seeing what it was since something far more delicate was in her hands. “What’s not to like? You’re pretty, smart, fun to be with, and…” She probably shouldn’t add the obvious, but she did anyway. “You’re the boss’s daughter.”

“Aunt Tessa! That’s not why we’re dating!”

“So you are dating him?” Which made sex only a little less horrifying. She was seventeen, even if they’d celebrated her birthday less than a month ago. Not a child anymore, but definitely not a grown woman.

“We’ve been talking for a while now, but it’s official,” Ashley said.

“Talking about what?”

She rolled her eyes, tsking as if Tessa was a dinosaur. “Talking is, like, pre-dating. First you check each other out, then you friend each other on Facebook, then you talk.”

“On the phone?”

“Text, mostly.”

Except they weren’t texting in the pantry. With a condom.

“Then he asks you to go out,” Ashley said.

Which was okay, wasn’t it? Of course Ashley was old enough to date. “So you’ve been out with him?”

“Not out-out. But out.”

“I don’t speak teenager, Ashley. What does that mean? Has he taken you to dinner and a movie? Miniature golfing? The mall? Out for ice cream?”

Ashley laughed. “You sound like you’re hyperventilating, Aunt Tess. We hang out.”

Which, Tessa remembered, was what she was supposed to be doing with John right now.

Too bad. Ashley was more important. “So do you usually hang out in the pantry?”

“He was working and…” She let the sentence fade to nothing. “He lives at home and so do I, so sometimes we—”

“Of course you ‘live at home,’ Ashley—you are a teenager. Barely seventeen, still in high school, and he’s old enough to…vote.” Among other things.

Her smile faded. “You’re going to tell my mom, aren’t you?”

They were almost at the end of the resort property, where the beach curved and Lacey and Clay’s house sat. “Listen, Ash, if you’re dating a guy—any guy—you have to tell your mom.”

Ashley stopped walking, looking down at the sand, silent.

“When are you going to tell her, Ash?”

She shook her head. “If I tell her, it’s over.”

“What does that mean?”

Struggling for a second, she looked out to the Gulf, emotion and the reflection of the water turning her eyes to a deep green. “Either she’ll fire him or he’ll leave me.”

“Ashley, you have to tell her.” Tessa reached for her hand to underscore her point. “First of all, you don’t keep secrets like that from your mother. Secondly, you haven’t given her a chance to fire him or not.” Although, knowing Lacey, she wouldn’t be happy. “And, third, I don’t know how you ‘leave’ someone you’re just hanging out with, but on principle, what kind of guy is he if he bolts at the first sign of trouble?”

Like he’d done about ten minutes ago.

“No, no, it’s not like that,” she said.

“Then what’s it like?” Tessa knew she should back off, but couldn’t. Every red flag ever made was flying in front of her face and this was Ashley.

“It’s like this,” Ashley said, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders as if preparing for a fight. “He needs this job so bad, Aunt Tessa. His mom’s…he doesn’t know where his mom is.”

And that was heartbreaking, but not what concerned Tessa most about this boy-man.

“And his dad is…”

What was commonly known as the town drunk. Only, word on the street was he was more like the town stoner.

“His dad lost his job at the hardware store. Marcus needs the money from this job so much.”

“He’s supporting his dad?”

Ashley shook her head. “He has a dream, Aunt Tess. He got his GED and now he really wants to go to a culinary school. He’s a good guy, honestly.”

Tessa exhaled. “Dreams are…important,” she said, striving for encouragement but not wanting to offer too much of it. “And, after he goes to culinary school and you go to college, and maybe graduate school, then you both work for a few years and figure out who you are, then…” She’ll never remember Marcus Lowell. “Then you can date him.”

Ashley laughed softly at how much Tessa stretched the timeline. “What if I want to date him now?”

Then they were back where they’d started. Tessa didn’t answer.

“Because of the color of his skin?” Ashley challenged.

“The color of his skin has never even occurred to me,” she said honestly. “And you know damn well that would never, ever matter to your mother or Clay or even your father.”

“Oh, Dad really likes him.”

Tessa blinked. “How does David know him?” David Fox hadn’t been on Mimosa Key for two years and the last time he was, he’d done his damnedest to ruin Lacey and Clay’s budding romance. Since then, Ashley had gone to see her father, rekindling a long-dormant relationship, but he certainly hadn’t been here.

“They’re Facebook friends. Dad’s excited for me.”

Tessa tried not to respond to that. David Fox, of all men, should know the dangers of young and impetuous love. Ashley was the result of Lacey’s college romance with the world-traveler trust-fund baby who called himself “Fox.”

Another thing that would make Lacey uber-skittish when it came to Ashley dating.

“Please don’t tell my mom.” Ashley’s voice cracked with a mix of plea and fear.

“Ashley, you and your mom have never had secrets.”

She finally looked up, her eyes brimming with moisture. “But that was before.” Her voice cracked, and so did Tessa’s heart.

“Before what, honey?” She took Ashley’s hand between hers, dying to pull the girl into her arms but knowing that might stall whatever she was about to admit.

“Before…”

Before Clay? Ashley and her stepfather had a great relationship. Before the resort? Her life was a thousand times improved now. Nothing had changed, except…

Oh, of course. “Before the baby,” Tessa said.

Ashley’s face confirmed the guess. “It’s like their whole lives are consumed by twenty pounds of screaming, shitting, wide-awake-in-the-middle-of-the-night monster!”

Tessa almost laughed at the description. “He’ll get better, Ash, and you love Elijah.”

“Of course I love him.” She swiped at a tear. “I feel awful even saying anything, but my mom’s barely looked at me since he was born.”

A total Ashley Exaggeration. “You know that’s not true.”

“Everything is Elijah. He needs to be fed. He needs to be changed. He needs to be picked up. And, then, there’s the resort. And Clay. She’s out of time and I think she…” The tears were streaming now as they got to the heart of the issue. “She forgot about me, and we used to be so close.”

Tessa’s whole chest swelled with sympathy. No, not sympathy. Empathy. There was nothing worse—no emptier, achier feeling—than being ignored by the one person you count on to pay attention to you. God, she knew that.

“Please, Aunt Tess.” Ashley’s mouth quivered. “Just for a little while, let me figure this out.”

She didn’t know what to do, but her heart folded enough to give Ashley that much. “Okay. But don’t do anything stupid, and let me think about how to handle this.”

“You don’t have to handle it. Don’t do anything.”

At least she could ask John to keep an eye on that boy.

“If I don’t tell your mom, I’ll be…” Doing the thing she abhorred: keeping secrets.

“You’ll be an awesome aunt who loves me so much.” Ashley smiled. “And pays attention to me.”

Of course, that got to her. “For now, Ash. Just for now. And, please, whatever you do, be careful.”