16. Chapter 16 – Lucy
I slipped from Clay’s arms, padding to the bathroom.
A stranger gazed back from the mirror. She had a faint sprinkling of red beard marks across her cheeks and neck.
Easy enough to hide with a little makeup.
I had just enough time to get home and change before meeting Vi, Rae, and Anya for our Saturday hike.
“Good morning.” Clay wrapped his arms around me from behind, completing the picture in the mirror. Neither of us had gotten much sleep, but his reflection grinned at me, seeming unbothered by the dark circles beneath our eyes.
His hands cupped my hips. His head dropped, nuzzling my neck, sending flutters of pleasure to my core.
“Vi’s going to pick me up in an hour,” I warned, voice a little breathless.
“Pick you up here?”
I shook my head. “My place.”
“She could get you from here.”
His eagerness to make us public knowledge was downright cute. The man didn’t just want me. He wanted everyone else to know he had me. It was… a lot. In the best possible way.
“I need to change first. I need better shoes to tackle Mt. Finlayson.”
He dropped a kiss on my neck. “I’ll make coffee, then I can take you home. Any chance you can spend tonight here too?”
Damn if the man didn’t just keep making plans like I was a sure thing, showing me again and again he wasn’t Christopher.
That he wouldn’t let even a day go by without seeing me.
Making plans before he even let me out of his sight?
Stop . My heart couldn’t take it. Not without me melting into a puddle at his handsome feet.
But my giddy heart wouldn’t listen.
“Violet invited everyone over for dinner tonight. We could walk to my place after.”
“Deal.”
Just like that. His easy acceptance of plans that didn’t include him eased any lingering fears about history repeating itself. Clay was his own man. He didn’t sulk or plead for me to cancel with my friends or make excuses not to join us later.
Clay pulled back, waggling his brows, a tiny smirk turning up the corner of his mouth. “So… does tonight with the gang equal a soft launch of our relationship, or can I shout to strangers on the street that you’re taken?”
“Let’s just say I’ve been Robertsoned.”
He clicked his tongue, grin wide as he shook his head from side to side. “No, no Lucifer. This doesn’t count as the full Robertson.” He caught my mouth in a playful kiss, a smile still etched on his lips. When he pulled back, he winked. “That part comes later. When you’re ready.”
The dratted man hummed all the way to his truck, keeping up the simple melody as he drove me home, like he had an internal soundtrack only he could hear.
I could only blame my inability to recognize the tune on our late night. On my completely orgasm-fried, sex-addled brain.
Minutes after he dropped me off, it hit me—it was the fucking “Wedding March.”
I had just enough time to slap on some foundation and slip into fresh clothes before Vi honked from my driveway. A real shower would have to wait until after we hiked. I felt like a marked woman as I slid into her passenger seat, sure she and Anya could tell I’d had sex.
Vi took one look at me and confirmed my worst fears, a teasing grin taking over. “Luce, you missed a spot.” She swiped at my collarbone, helping me blend my makeup.
“Thanks.”
She pointed to the cupholder. “I brought coffee.”
“I already had some, but thanks.”
“Really…” Anya drew the word out like a question from the back seat, as Vi drove toward the harbor. “Does Clay make a good pot of coffee?” she asked with fake casualness.
There was no hiding the truth from my friends. And, honestly, I didn’t want to try.
“He does.”
A broad grin took over Vi’s face. “I knew it.” She pushed her glasses up her nose.
Rae slid into the backseat next to Anya, catching the tail end of Vi’s squee. “Knew what?”
“That Lucy and Clay would hook up,” Vi said smugly.
Rae snorted, pointing to her chin. “This is my shocked face.”
“Does this mean he’s coming for dinner tonight?” Anya asked.
I nodded.
Vi, Anya, and Rae left me in peace as we drove to the Jakle’s Lagoon trailhead and parked in the small gravel lot. They waited until we were on the trail beneath the trees before peppering me with questions.
“So, how long have you and Clay been seeing each other for real?” Anya asked.
“A few weeks.”
“Is it serious?” Rae asked.
That, I didn’t know how to answer. Not yet. “It’s new,” I said instead. “We’ve only been on a few dates. Last night we went to the art gallery in Roche Harbor.”
“That’s right. You’re gearing up for the park service show. How are classes going?” Vi asked.
“It’d be a walk in the park if it weren’t for your gran.”
Violet winced, a mix of sympathy and amusement on her face.
“What’s she done now?” Anya asked.
“Let’s just say her artwork might get its own special corner at Chaz’s studio, complete with curtain to hide her self-expression from delicate eyes.”
Rae chuckled. “That sounds about right.”
“She worked the mayor and the fire chief into her orgy scene. It’ll be a miracle if we don’t get angry phone calls after the show.”
“Maybe that’s her plan to raise more money – if her art is too scandalous to show, there could be a bidding war to keep it out of unfriendly hands,” Rae said shrewdly.
“Huh.” That might be true for the orgy painting, but the dick statuette was probably harder to identify. “Speaking of the gallery, on our first trip to drop off canvases, something caught my eye.” I turned to Anya. “Remember that case that Drew found on the beach this spring?”
Her brow wrinkled. “The one he thought might have come off Jordan Dawkins’s boat?”
“Yes, that one. I think I spotted it in Chaz’s back room.”
“You think Chaz lifted it from Drew’s truck?” Rae asked.
“I don’t know. But it was odd to see something similar in his work room.”
“It was just lying out in plain sight?” Anya asked.
“Not exactly. I think it was tucked under a table. I kicked it with my foot. When we went back last night, he’d locked it away in a cabinet.”
“Wait. You broke into Chaz’s back room?” Vi asked. “Why?”
“I was curious.”
Vi shook her head. “And Clay let you do this?”
My chin firmed. “Clay isn’t the boss of me.”
Vi snorted. “No, but I thought he had more sense. You’re lucky you didn’t get caught. He might have lost his job if he got arrested.”
“Chaz is full of hot air. It was fine,” I said sharply.
I’d never considered what he might be risking for me.
Of course, the park service would frown on their enforcement professionals getting in trouble with the local law.
“The point is, Chaz has a case in his back room with the initials J.D. Do you think it could be the same case?”
Anya tugged at her lip. “Maybe. I’ll ask Drew what he remembers.”
“Thanks,” I said grudgingly. “I grabbed a photo of the case last night if that helps. There’s just something off about the studio.”
Rae shook her head. “I’ll never understand how A.A.’s work goes for so much. Those paintings look like nothing but a colorful mess to me.”
“Whoever A.A. is, they’re prolific. Chaz must make most of his commissions off those pieces. The rest of the local artisans are small fry by comparison.”
“Your work is not small fry,” Vi chided. “Don’t be modest. Your glass pieces are gorgeous.”
I pursed my lips, tapping them gently. “I can’t produce at the rate A.A. can, and I definitely don’t command so much per piece. It’s an odd market here.”
We reached the cove at the bottom of the trail, exploring along the beach.
We’d lucked into a windy fall day, but no rain.
An atmospheric river was forecasted for the week, which meant we’d probably get dumped on tomorrow, but for the moment, we could enjoy the waves lapping against the rocky shore.
The hike up to our car was steep enough to forestall more teasing.
But it gave me time to think. My friends had accepted the change in my relationship with Clay like it was a foregone conclusion.
Like they had seen it coming while we were still too busy circling each other, mistaking tension for irritation, ignoring the sparks.
Had we been the only ones fooled by our bickering?
Had they all been waiting for us to figure out what they already knew?
Now that we’d crossed the line from sniping to something deeper, I couldn’t deny the truth. Trading barbs with Clay had never been just banter. It was a game, a dance, a way to test my baby claws on him. And, if I was brutally honest, a form of foreplay neither of us had been ready to acknowledge.
Clay seemed almost too good to be true from the beginning.
Tall, handsome, and charming in that good-natured way that included old ladies and small children in his attention.
He seemed to love everybody. Enjoy everyone.
Even me. It made me want to prick at him.
Test him. Convinced he couldn’t be real.
That his charm was a form of self-defense, just like my prickly side.
I could keep everyone else at a safe distance. But not him.
He was impervious to my defenses. To my insults. Nothing fazed him. My barbs bounced off, unable to disrupt his affability. His dark gaze just held mine steadily, like he could see through the thorns to the delicate growth beneath.
It unnerved me. It thrilled me .
My friends had wormed their way into my inner circle over months and years, wearing down my defenses to gain my trust. But Clay?
He’d managed the feat in record time. That should have terrified me.
And deep down, maybe it did. Because trust wasn’t something I gave easily.
Yet, with him, it was happening so fast, it made my head spin.
Was I being reckless? Letting him in too soon, letting myself believe in him too easily? Or had I simply met someone who saw to the heart of me from the start – who refused to let me hide?
I buried the bubbling uncertainty as we reached Vi’s car, piling in for the ride back to town.
“We’ll see you and Clay around six?” Vi asked as she dropped me off.
“Can I bring anything?”
Vi wrinkled her nose. “Only if it’s wine. I love you, but not enough to eat anything you’ve cooked.” She blew me a kiss. “But if I need some artwork, you’ll be my first call.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said. “See you tonight.”
Reluctantly, I faced my empty house. More time to think meant more time to obsess about my fears. The studio door beckoned, drawing my gaze. Unless I buried myself in work.
I checked my annealer temp and flicked on the glory hole in my workspace. Warming it up would take at least an hour, leaving me stuck with two options: paperwork or dusting. Paperwork required brainpower. The feather duster did not.
Idly, I picked it up, running it along each display. Letting the movement soothe me while my mind churned.
It took me an embarrassingly long time to notice it, a folded piece of paper, stuck to the studio’s glass front door.
Innocuous at first glance. Ordinary. But bold as you please, waiting.
I unlocked the front door and peeled the message free. LUCY was scrawled across the outside in an unfamiliar print. The blocky all-caps made my scalp prickle.
I flipped it open: S top poking around. Some art isn’t meant for everyone’s eyes .
Whoever sent the note clearly didn’t know me well. If they had, they’d know that ignoring me was far more effective than a warning.
Before, I was just curious. Now? I was invested.
I crumpled the message in my fist, letting it fall to the floor. Satisfying, but not smart. I picked it up, smoothed it out, folding it neatly and tucking it into my back pocket.
Possibilities ticked through my mind. Chaz? Janine? A.A. themselves? Or was it simpler than that? Had Gran’s poor taste in art subjects riled people up more than I realized?
Whoever didn’t want me paying attention should have kept quiet.
Now, the possibilities were going to gnaw at me.
I drifted toward my studio, sitting at my workbench. Ready to let the siren’s call of molten glass silence the voices inside.
Let them try to scare me. I had a stubborn streak, a torch, and a man smart enough not to blow it out.