Driving back to the condo, she thought of Willa’s continued insistence that she, Thea, take advantage of her proximity to Calder Frye, so when she pulled in to find him on his motorcycle, a burst of excitement bloomed in her stomach at her perfect timing. Maybe he’d be free again tonight and they could—how had he phrased it?—pick up where they left off?
“Hey, neighbor.” He smiled at her as she crossed their shared lawns.
“Hey yourself,” she said, reaching him. “Good ride?”
“I was just leaving,” he said, squinting up at the sky. “I was hoping to get off first thing but I didn’t trust those clouds this morning.”
“Oh.” Disappointment flared—so much for her hope for another dinner date—but she kept her smile intact. “You should be fine. You still have plenty of the day left.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” He shifted his helmet to his other hand and considered her a moment before he said, “Want to join me?”
“You mean, now?” Flustered by the unexpected offer, she gestured lamely to her cut-off shorts, her flip-flops. “But I’m not exactly dressed for it.”
He grinned. “That didn’t stop you before.”
True.
Thea shifted her gaze to the bike, memory igniting like a match. She would never forget how it had felt to slide behind him that long-ago night, to wrap her arms around his waist and take in a deep whiff of his t-shirt, the worn cotton slightly damp and smelling of freshly turned dirt. How hard he’d felt under her fingers, how she’d sworn she could feel the pumping of his heart when she laid her hands on his chest, how certain she was he could feel hers racing against his back.
“Where are we going again?”
“Wherever we want…”
Maybe she was imagining it, but Thea could swear Calder’s lips danced toward the same smile he’d tempted her with that night fourteen years before. Only this time, there was no Patrick Hogan, no dark street to be rescued from. And yet, Calder’s invitation filled her with the same delicious sense of escape and freedom. That night, she’d known exactly what—and whom—she’d been fleeing from, but what was she running away from now?
Thea decided she didn’t care.
She smiled. “Give me two minutes to change my shoes.”
* * *
Thea didn’t know how it was possible, but riding behind him at thirty-two was even more exhilarating than it had been at eighteen. She’d forgotten so much! The wind against her, the rush of every turn, the sensation of his jeans rubbing against the tender skin of her inner thighs. And pressing herself to him, the feeling of firmness, the confident way he turned them, guiding them effortlessly out of town. He warned her when they were nearing the train tracks to hold on tight and she did, lacing her fingers together around his waist for extra protection from the jostling, but when they’d returned to the smooth road, she didn’t want to loosen her grip.
They were just past the sign for Pineville when she felt the thrum of his phone under her arm. He must have felt it too, because when they reached a patch of grass a safe distance from the road, he steered them toward it and parked.
He pulled off his helmet. “Just give me a second,” he said, reaching down for his phone and sliding it on. She leaned back and looked up at the sky, wondering why it looked so much bluer out here, the clouds so much fuller, softer.
He blew out a hard breath.
Thea rested her chin on his shoulder. “Is it work?”
“My sister-in-law. My dad’s having a tough night. I’m sorry to have cut things short but I need to swing by there and make sure he’s okay. I’ll take you home.”
“Don’t be silly,” Thea said. “We’re five minutes from your house—the condo’s all the way on the other side of town. Don’t waste time taking me back when your dad needs you. We should just go straight from here.”
“I appreciate that,” he said, putting on his helmet, “but I like you too much to subject you to my family. Even for five minutes.”
“No, really. I’d hate for you to have to take me home and then come back and lose all that time and waste all that gas.”
“Are you sure?”
She wrapped her arms around him and smiled. “Positive.”
* * *
In all her years in Magnolia Bay, Thea could only recall visiting the Fryes’ Pick-Your-Own farm once, in seventh grade, when her class had come for a field trip at the height of tomato season—and even then she’d been more interested in comparing nail polish with her best friends than taking in the scenery. She did, however, remember that the farm had been a popular destination during the holidays—offering hay rides at Halloween and festive celebrations at Thanksgiving and Christmas, but when Calder steered them past the scalloped-edged sign at the end of the dirt driveway and up the road, the lack of cars in the parking lot or people milling about the property was unsettling. Not to mention the run-down appearance of the property itself. Were the Fryes struggling to keep the place open? Was that why Calder had returned to Magnolia Bay, to help them get the business back on its feet?
Calder drove them past the barn-like store to where a brick farmhouse with a wide wrap-around porch sat proudly at the top of the hill. Thea didn’t remember the house but she definitely remembered the strawberry and tomato fields that stretched out all around it. Several groups of workers moved up and down the rows, harvesting, she suspected.
He parked them in the shade of a sprawling oak and climbed off, helping her to do the same.
“I’d invite you in,” he said, “but my dad’s kind of a handful when he’s not feeling well.”
“I can’t believe he’s that bad.”
“He is, trust me. I’ll just be a second.”
Thea nodded. “I’ll be here.”
* * *
Even before he opened the screen door to the kitchen and stepped inside, Calder could smell the remnants of burnt food. He winced as he walked to the sink and saw the charred pot soaking in the basin.
“So much for non-stick.”
At the voice, Calder turned to see Marie in the doorway. His sister-in-law looked tired and strained. Calder moved to her and pulled her in for a hug.
“This was a bad one, huh?” he asked.
“Worst one yet. I haven’t seen him so wound up since your mom died. Your dad tried to take the truck, Call. He said he needed roofing nails, of all things. I had to hide the keys.”
“Christ, Marie. I’m sorry.” Calder dragged a hand around his jaw. Shit, this was worse than he’d thought. He’d been around enough alcoholics in his life to know the disease affected every patient differently, and at different rates of acceleration.
“It’s other things, too…” Marie’s voice softened to a whisper, her eyes darting nervously to the door. “I didn’t want to say anything at the hospital, but last week your dad got into a fight with a customer over a pint of strawberries—a silly pint of strawberries,” she repeated incredulously. “Pete smoothed things over, or tried to, but it was awful. I hate seeing him so angry all the time.”
Calder rubbed her shoulder. “I’m glad you called me.”
“Calder?” Pete stepped in through the back door. “What are you doing here?”
“I hear Pop’s been having a bad day and I was in the neighborhood so I came over to make sure everyone was okay.”
“Just because he burned some food? For crying out loud, it’s not like he was going take down the whole house.” Pete pushed out a hard breath. “Jesus, I really wish Pop wouldn’t call you.”
“He didn’t.” Marie stepped forward, her hands clenched at her front. Her smile was tentative, her soft blue eyes pooling with apology. “
I
called, baby.”
“What?” Pete looked more betrayed than angry. “Why?”
“Because I was worried.”
Pete looked between Calder and Marie, his eyes fierce. “Y’all staging some damn intervention for me, is that it?”
“Pete, if anyone’s getting an intervention in this house, it’s Pop. Speaking of Pop…” Calder stepped past Marie to search through the doorway into the rest of the house. “Where is he?”
“I’m not sure. Last I saw him he was outside by the garage,” Marie said, nodding to the porch.
“Shit.” Calder moved to the window, seeing exactly what he feared as soon as looked out. Thea, patiently waiting for him under the tree—and his father, George Frye, staggering up the driveway and headed right for her.
Chapter Six
As
soon as she spotted the older man lumbering out of the garage, Thea had known he was Calder’s father. The man’s hair was nearly the same shade of coppery brown, though George Frye’s short waves were thinning and sprinkled with a good deal of white. His gait had been slow and uneven, as if his right leg caused him pain. He’d seen her at the top of the driveway and swerved to reach her, but his scowl had confused her. Although it was a long time ago, Thea remembered him from their class trip as an affable man who’d eagerly given them a tour of the farm. But the man who struggled up the gravel had frowned at her as if she were a saleswoman there to bother him.
“You lost, or what?”
Despite his bark, Thea felt no threat. In her line of work, she’d encountered plenty of belligerent people, most of them in the courtroom, but not always. Some days she believed her summer jobs waiting tables at the Bay’s most popular restaurants had been her training ground for how to handle rankled strangers: kill them with kindness.
“I hope not,” Thea said cheerfully. “Seeing as I’m from this area.”
“Y’are, huh?” The old man leaned on the handlebars like a drowning man hanging onto the edge of a lifeboat. Thea could detect the sweet smell of liquor wafting off him.
Calder’s father’s limp hadn’t been because of pain. He was drunk.
He sniffed. “You a nurse?”
“No, I’m an attorney. Thea Dunn.”
“Dunn?” His scowl deepened. “As in Hugh?”
“He’s my father.”
“No shit?” And just like that, the darkness that had veiled George Frye’s sour expression lifted. A wistful smile spread across his wrinkled lips and a delighted sparkle entered his piercing blue eyes. “Then that makes Lily Bloom your momma.”
“You know my mom?”
“Hell, yeah,” he said, weaving a moment before steadying himself back against the handlebars. “We were in school together way back when. She was a force of nature, your momma.”
Thea smiled. “She still is.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Thea saw movement on the porch. Turning, she watched Calder bound down the steps and march across the lawn toward her.
His expression was strained when he arrived. “Sorry to leave you out here so long.”
“It’s fine,” Thea said, hoping to ease his obvious concern. “We were having a nice chat.”
Calder’s green eyes shifted warily to his father. “I see you’ve met my dad, George.”
“Well shit, son, why didn’t you tell me you were dating Lily Bloom’s little girl?”
Thea cut her gaze to Calder, sure he would correct his father’s misunderstanding about their relationship—or lack thereof—but Calder just smiled patiently and said, “You never asked, Pop.”
“Way back when—I’m talking before I met his mother,” George Frye added, hooking his thumb in Calder’s direction “—I wooed your momma. Wooed her hard, too. Showed up on her doorstep with a flat of strawberries.”
“Really?”
“Yes, ma’am. Some boys bring flowers, I believe the way to a woman’s heart is through
fruit
.”
Thea laughed, charmed. “So what happened?”
“Her sisters are what happened. Your aunts, Daisy and Camellia, ran right to Davis Loveless and tattled like a couple of jays that I was moving in on his girl.”
“That sounds like something my aunts would have done,” Thea said, wanting to assure George Frye that the notorious Bloom Bitches hadn’t changed a bit since those days, but deciding against it when she glanced at Calder. He looked as if he wanted to crawl under a rock, or maybe just gently slide his father under one for a few hours.
“I never could figure what your mom saw in that windbag,” George continued, now truly settled in to his story. “I was glad when she came back from up north with that Yankee. Shut Davis up pretty quick.”
Calder stepped in. “Pop, Thea and I were actually going to take a ride into—t.”
“Y’all
are
staying for dinner, aren’t you?” His father looked stricken, his pleated eyes milky with concern. “Come on, son—you can’t just bring home a Bloom girl and whisk her away before I get a chance to impress her.”
Thea looked over to meet Calder’s strained gaze. “We’d love to, Pop, but I promised Thea we’d—“
“Of course we’ll stay,” Thea said, the drooping look on George Frye’s face impossible to bear. She glanced quickly at Calder to give him a reassuring smile, but his expression remained tense.
Walking back toward the house, Calder slid an arm around Thea to slow her pace and dropped his lips to her ear to say low, “You didn’t have to do that. We really don’t have to stay.”
The sensation of his breath against her neck made her skin prickle; the feeling of his arm tightening briefly around her waist so comforting she was sorry when he drew it away.