Let Me Love You Page 8

  Stacey laughed.

  ****

  After several hours at the beach, Stacey tingled in all the places the sun had kissed her skin. Standing in front of the full-length mirror in her sister’s guest bedroom, she removed her black and white bikini, revealing tan lines. The triple application of sunscreen kept her from burning, but hadn’t prevented her from getting some sun.

  Jen had kept her busy with conversation. They’d discussed Jen’s new role as one of the directors of the graphic design department at Ringling College of Art and Design and the few teachers who were not overly excited about her swift promotion. Jen confided in her about a crush she had on one of the lead actors at the Asolo theatre. Even though they spoke every week, there never seemed to be a shortage of things to talk about. Their discussions at the beach gave Stacey little time to ponder her own situation and the breakfast conversation she’d had with her sister.

  A run might help her sort things out. It usually did. Slipping on a pair of black running shorts, a sports bra, and gray tank, she sat on the edge of the bed, sliding on socks and tying her Asics. Yoga and running kept her fit. Yoga kept her limber while running kept her sane. A good run cleared her head. Exactly what she needed right now.

  “I’m heading out for my run.” Stacey walked through the living room where Jen perched at her desk typing out something on the computer.

  “How the hell do you run?” Jen wore nothing but her cobalt blue bikini. “Especially after a day at the beach. I’m pooped. I only want to pour a glass of wine and curl up on the couch with a good movie.”

  “We can do that after I return. You’ll understand when you pass thirty.” Stacey chuckled. “Those daiquiris and nachos don’t just fall off anymore.”

  “Run along, old lady.” Jen rolled her eyes. “I’ll be vegging out by the time you get back. I’m ordering pizza for us tonight. You’ll have to run ten miles tomorrow to get the pizza to fall off.” Jen snorted with her laugh, and Stacey waved her middle finger at her as she laughed. “I assume you’re staying, right?”

  “I’m staying until you throw me out.”

  “If it will force you to return to that hot stud, I’ll kick you out right now.”

  “Cute, Jennifer.” She wagged a finger at her sister. “I’ll see you in thirty.”

  Fixing her iPhone in its band on her upper arm, Stacey pressed play on her running playlist and waved to her sister as she bolted out the front door. Jogging south toward downtown Sarasota, she hit her stride once she reached Main Street. Imagine Dragons’ Whatever It Takes blared in her ears as she passed Two Senoritas and the Selva Grill. Heading in the direction of the Marina Jack Trail, her breath eased as her body warmed to the pace.

  She loved this run. Did it every time she visited her sister. Running along a waterfront had an uncanny way of making one appreciate life, even if it didn’t consist of cruising on one of the many yachts parked at the marina.

  Reaching the water fountain with the jumping dolphins statue at the end of the peninsula, she stopped to take in the beauty and catch her breath.

  Condominium buildings of various shapes and sizes lined the skyline. The John Ringling Causeway stretched from the mainland to Lido Key as the sun began its slow descent. The view took her breath away and she wondered if Ren would agree.

  She was in a bit deeper than she imagined. His face. Voice. Smile. Body. His laugh. He kept popping into her mind and taking up space. Perhaps it was more than sex for her, too.

  Her phone buzzed on her arm. A new text. She pulled the phone out of its arm band in case the text came from her sister asking her to pick something up on her run back, but it wasn’t.

  Ren: I can’t stop thinking about u!

  Her heart fluttered. Her breath faltered. He was thinking of her. A sweet gesture, romantic even. And here she packed her bags and ran away without any explanation. Was she being unfair? She tapped out a response.

  Stacey: Thank u. ☺

  Should she send the text?

  Thank you? Is that an appropriate reply? She pressed send. This whole flirting game felt strange. It’d been too long. Within seconds, her phone vibrated again. Another text from him.

  Ren: Please tell me u will b home tonight.

  Stacey leaned her backside against the edge of the fountain, her head hanging back as she inhaled deeply and stared up at the painted sky. A chilled mist from the fountain cascaded over her bared shoulders goose bumps formed on her exposed skin.

  Stacey: Not tonight.

  Ren: Then when?

  She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t lie to herself, he sparked feelings in her that were far more than sexual. She’d never been a reckless person, typically thinking things through, taking others into consideration and making rational decisions even if it meant she didn’t get what she wanted. More would be at stake than saving face if this situation blew up. Her heart was no joking matter.

  Ren: I’ll come down there and get u.

  Stacey: That’s not necessary. I’ll b home soon.

  She jumped at the sound of her ring tone. Ren’s name flashed on the screen. She couldn’t avoid him forever even if she hadn’t worked what was happening between them out in her head. He’d already threatened to drive down to Sarasota and get her. If she didn’t answer the call, that might encourage him to do just that. He knew where Jen lived. He’d rode down with her last year to help Jen move into her current house. Whether he remembered where that was, she couldn’t be certain, but she wasn’t willing to run the risk. Jen would welcome him with open arms if it meant Stacey would have to face this situation. She swiped her thumb across the phone to accept the call.

  “Hello.” The waver in her voice was soft, but she noticed and hoped he didn’t.

  “Stacey.” He sounded relieved.

  “Hi, Ren.”

  “Are you okay? You sound out of breath.”

  “I was on a run.” She tried to make herself sound less breathy because it had been more hearing his voice than the run that had did it. “I’m okay.”

  “A run, huh? I guess you had to go all the way to Sarasota to do that.” A soft laugh, but she could tell he was bothered by the fact she left without contacting him. Guilt churned her stomach. Damn her Catholic upbringing.

  “I’m sorry. I know I should have said something to you before leaving. I needed some time. You caught me off guard.”

  “I know. I can give you time, baby.” He paused. The endearment warmed her from head to toe, even if it shouldn’t. Randy would call her “babe,” but that nickname always felt like a habit instead of an endearment. “I’ll give you the time you need to think things through, but I’m not giving up and I’m not backing down. Staying down there isn’t going to change the way I feel about you. And I will come down there and get you if I have to.” He chuckled, but the seriousness in his voice was evident and gave her another rush of goose bumps. He sounded like a man who had spent his time thinking things out.

  “Ha-ha! No, you won’t. I’m not a cave woman and last I checked, you’re not a Neanderthal.”

  “Don’t be too sure about that last one. You’ve made me want to be all sorts of things I never thought I’d want to be.”

  “Like what?” Curiosity got the best of her.

  “Like being a boyfriend. Monogamous.”

  She fell silent. For as long as she’d known him, he’d been what she’d coin a player. She never thought much about his reputation. He’d been a teenager, then a college student—the time to experiment. And he had. He’d always been quite open with her about his experiences. He didn’t want to settle down. He wanted to play the field. Now he said something different.

  “Ren.”

  “I’ll give you a few more days. I get it. I know this whole thing was unexpected and you’re still reeling from everything. What happened between us—though absolutely incredible—took you by surprise. But I’m not going to let you hide from me or our feelings for each other. If you don’t come back home by Tuesday, I will co
me down to Jen’s and get you. I remember where she lives.”

  She believed him. “I’ll be home Monday evening,” she said. She couldn’t hide out forever. She knew that.

  “Promise?”

  “I promise,” she said in almost a whisper.

  “Okay.” He blew out what sounded like a breath of relief. “I’ll let you get back to your run. I know how much you love those. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Good night.”

  “Good night, Ren.”

  She disconnected the call and looked out over the Sarasota Bay. The sun had fallen a bit further and pink and purple streaks highlighted the sky. She inhaled the salty, humid air and blew the breath out. What was she going to do? How had things become so complicated?

  She slipped her iPhone back in the arm band, pushed the earbuds back in her ears, and pressed play on her playlist. Lose Yourself by Eminem blared. She pushed off the edge of the fountain, her legs stretching in long strides, and her arms pumping as she ran through the park and back out toward the downtown area. She did lose herself in the moment, pounding the pavement in hopes of finding clarity. When that clarity didn’t come, she turned in the direction of her sister’s house. Perhaps some wine, pizza, and a sappy chick flick with her sister would do the trick.

  Chapter Six

  Having lived the last four years in Gainesville with a considerable drive to get to the coast, Ren gained a new appreciation for where he had been raised. He could jump in his Jeep and drive less than two minutes before the salty air tickled his nostrils, part of the privilege of living in a neighborhood simply a few turns from the Gulf of Mexico.

  He’d spent the better part of Monday at the beach. He hung out around the lifeguard station with a few old high school buddies. They’d chatted about old memories, laughing until their bellies hurt.

  Now, his skin prickled from the sun. He should have slathered on that second coat of sunscreen. The sun always seemed stronger at the beach reflecting off the water, but every time he remembered, he got sidetracked by another conversation. He’d pay for that now.

  He’d showered and dressed, trying not to let his anxiety get the best of him. He’d checked the front windows more times than he cared to count to see if Stacey’s BMW had pulled into the driveway yet. Then he considered calling her to see what time he could expect her home, but he didn’t want to give her a reason to stay another night in Sarasota.

  Would she think he’d become obsessive if he called or texted her again? He couldn’t risk it even if he did feel obsessive, out of his element, and out of control.

  If he didn’t see her soon, he’d lose his mind. He’d given her a lot to think about. But what was going through her pretty head? The not knowing what she thought drove him crazy. Well, that and the not being able to see, touch, or kiss her.

  “Ren,” his mother called from the kitchen, bringing him back from his wandering thoughts.

  His father had kept his word and not mentioned their conversation to Mom, but his stomach churned with acid at the thought of telling her. She’d be upset, maybe even angry, blaming Stacey somehow. She’d stop listening to his explanation and press forward with telling him what to do in her overbearing maternal sort of way. In her eyes, he’d never be old enough to live his own life without her interference.

  He loved her. But there had been many moments throughout his life where he’d felt suffocated. He understood some of her reasoning. After years of trying to get pregnant and multiple miscarriages, he was her miracle child. She’d do anything for him, except give him the freedom he craved to live his life. This conversation about Stacey could be the catalyst to opening a door in the relationship with his mom. Or her reaction could sever what remained.

  “What’s up, Mom?” He leaned against the kitchen doorway and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you need help?”

  “Nope. This is almost back to normal.” She released the bowl she held with her injured arm and gingerly moved back and forth. “Hasn’t interfered too much with my cooking.”

  His mother stood at the counter, tossing pasta with her good arm and a large spoon. Hints of basil and pine nuts lofted his way. Yum! She had whipped up her homemade pesto sauce.

  He’d always thought she’d have made a great chef or one of those hosts on a cooking channel, making one concoction after the next. Whenever he’d mention that to her, she told him she’d probably hate cooking if she had to do it all the time.

  When he was home from college, he rarely missed a meal. Hell, anything would have been better than another night of pizza or hot dogs, but his mom’s cooking was nothing short of mouthwatering. His friends knew it, too. Often, the Haynes’ kitchen table had been full of growing men drooling over the aromas in the air and the plates of food laid before them.

  “Are you going out tonight?” She looked up. Her hair was pulled in a loose lop-sided ponytail he was sure his father helped secure since she still had limited range of motion in raising her one arm that far back. Two little laugh lines hugged her smile, and tiny lines formed by her eyes. Most people would never guess she was forty-six. She could easily pass for a thirty-something.

  “I might head over to the Alehouse for a game of pool with Tyler and a few of the guys. Why do you ask?” Maybe he was overplaying the nonchalant approach. He rolled his head from side to side, stretching neck muscles. His anxiety made him tighter than a hamstring muscle after too many deadlifts. He should tell her about Stacey. “Do you need me?”

  “Nope. I like to know where you are when you’re home. I worry. I know it drives you crazy, but I’m always going to be your mother.” She smiled.

  “Yes, I know, Mom.” He inhaled and released his breath slowly. “At some point, you’re going to have to get used to the idea that I’m an adult now, have been legally for five years, and am capable of making my decisions and living my life.” He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but he couldn’t control the sharpness in his voice. The words were out before he could stop them or soften his tone. His irritation controlled the moment.

  She winced. It was hard for her to hear. She had her helicopter mom moments as he grew up: Cutting his chicken for him until he was twelve for fear he’d choke, not letting him bike around the neighborhood without a crew of friends until almost fourteen. She meant well. Perhaps a bit smothering, but he still hated disappointing or hurting her. He wasn’t sure there would be a way around it where his relationship with Stacey was concerned.

  “Dinner’s in ten minutes, Ren,” she said, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. Pesto sauce dripped from the spoon still clasped tightly in her hand. Her feelings had been hurt and she was done. He bowed his head and walked out of the kitchen and into the living room where his father sat watching a Tampa Bay Rays game.

  It could have been a great opportunity to talk to her about Stacey. But he couldn’t bring himself to discuss his feelings when he already appeared to have upset her. Her displeasure in him wanting her to let go, let him live his life, would only fuel her fire of him wanting to explore a relationship with their neighbor. She’d think he was with Stacey to spite her even though she had nothing to do with it.

  Ren plopped down on the sofa and kicked his bare feet up on the coffee table. His father looked over at him and grinned. They fell into a comfortable silence watching the game until his mother called for dinner.

  ****

  Another night of bullshitting with some of his old high school buddies at the Alehouse and shooting a few games of pool. Ren enjoyed catching up with everyone and hearing stories of school or work or married life, but he struggled to concentrate.

  “Haynes? You with us?” Tyler asked, standing next to him.

  He chuckled. Tyler knew exactly where his mind was. “Sorry. My mind is elsewhere tonight.” Ren swiped a hand down his face.

  “Go get her, dude.” Tyler patted him on the back. “I’ll make an excuse for you.”

  “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” Ren excused himself and headed toward the parking lot.
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  What if she decided to stay in Sarasota another night? If she did, he’d be on Interstate 275 to 75 South faster than she could conjure up her next romance novel plot.

  Pulling his Jeep up to his parents’ house, grave frustration knotted his gut when he noticed her car wasn’t in the driveway. He blew out a harsh breath and ran his fingers through his hair. She was going to drive him out of his mind.

  He climbed out of the Jeep and wandered over to her yard. Quiet. Too quiet. He peered in the little window at the top of the garage door and a wave of relief washed over him. Her BMW sat inside the garage.

  Thank God!

  He leaped up the steps of the porch and lifted the frog statue to find the spare house key. She kept it in the same hiding place even after all these years. Despite the advantage at the moment, he’d talk to her about changing that up. In the past, she had a man in the house to protect her. Hopefully, he’d fill that position in due time, but until then he didn’t want anyone else having easy access.

  He slid the key in the door and twisted the knob. The door creaked open and he stepped in, slipping the key into his pocket and closing the door behind him. He didn’t know her location in the house. Perhaps she was sleeping or in the shower. Voices murmured from the television in the family room. He tiptoed a few steps in that direction wanting to surprise her.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Ren!”

  His heart stopped from the startling effect of her shriek. Stacey stood in the doorway to the den on his right, clutching a hair brush. Her eyes stretched wide with a mix of terror and surprise.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t club you to death just now.”

  He bit his lower lip to prevent the laugh that bubbled up in his chest. Releasing it would only fuel her anger and though she was beautiful when angry, that wasn’t the emotion he had hoped to inspire. However, he had difficulty taking her seriously with a hair brush as a weapon.

  “You were going to club me to death with that?” He pointed to the brush, attempting to disguise the humor in his voice, but the narrowing of her eyes proved he hadn’t been successful.