Bungalow Nights(22)

“Oh.” She was silent a long moment. “I’ve never caught sight of one. Dad—” She broke off, her breath a little hiccup that was almost a sob.

The sound made his chest ache. He looked over at her. “Honey...”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, straightening her posture as if under inspection. Her attention was focused westward, at the sun already half-hidden by the horizon line. The wind fluttered the ends of her hair. Then, as he watched, a single tear crested her lower eyelid, turning gold as it caught the last rays of light.

Vance didn’t even think before sliding close and then circling her waist to draw her against him. It killed him when she lifted her shoulder in a quick surreptitious gesture to blot her cheek.

So intent on hiding her emotions. In a professional soldier’s household any sentimental display had likely been looked upon as weakness.

She cleared her throat. “My father told me about one he witnessed in Iraq,” she said, her voice a deeper rasp than usual. “You can see them over the tops of mountains and even clouds, did you know that?”

Vance shook his head, struck by the beauty of her face as a second golden tear rolled down her skin. His fingers itched to touch it, to brush it away, but suddenly that seemed like the most intimate act of all.

Her hand lifted her glass, but she lowered it before taking a sip. She stared at the sun as it sank lower. “Jules Verne said that a person who sees a green flash gains special powers. They can’t be deceived because they can read others’ thoughts.”

He grunted, alarmed by the idea. Good Christ, it would only be trouble if Layla started reading his mind.

“But according to sailors,” she continued, “when the flash appears, it means a soul has crossed over.”

According to Layla, too, Vance realized, watching her so-serious face. She wanted to believe she was here to see her father’s soul pass on.

So Vance turned westward, as well, willing it for her with all he had. When the wind died and the final fingernail rim of the orange sun slipped into the ocean, though, there was no coinciding emerald burst of light. No souls crossed that night.

He thought he might just cry at the lack. Another long silence followed, the dusk deepening around them. Lights came on in the windows of the other houses in the cove, but their glow didn’t touch them here, at the south end and under the darker shadow of the looming cliff.

Finally, Layla lifted her glass for a sip of wine. “Vance, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Ask me if I saw the flash. I’ll lie my ass off and say yes if it will make you believe the colonel’s peacefully passed on. Anything. Any damn thing to make you happier.

“I have a couple of questions for you, actually.” She went quiet again, as if gathering her thoughts. “First, about last night...”

His groan was swallowed back. “Maybe it would be better to leave that alone.” He started to shift away from her, but she placed her hand on his thigh.

“Okay,” she said easily enough. “Then answer my other question.”

Darkness came swiftly once the sun was gone. Her features were already obscured, and it made him uneasy. “If I can,” he said, cautious now about his promises.

She took a breath. “I wondered what the problem is between you and your brother.”

He blinked. “Fitz?”

“I know you were angry at him last night and maybe I was miffed, too, but the fact is, he seemed upset—”

“I’ve changed my mind, Alex,” he said. “I’ll take About Last Night for two hundred dollars.”

She let out a little startled laugh. “Really? You won’t tell me why—”

“About Last Night for one thousand dollars.”

No way in hell did he want to discuss the situation with his brother. Talk about personal. And intimate. Telling that story would be like plunging a fist into his belly and pulling his guts from his navel.

Yeah, he’d talk about kissing Layla and everything it shouldn’t mean all night long, rather than that. But then she was silent long enough for him to think she’d abandoned uncomfortable topics altogether. Whew.

The relief came too soon, however. Because finally her head swiveled his way and words tumbled out. “I wondered—worried that you felt...well, guilty, or, I don’t know, disloyal because we kissed.”

“What?” He frowned. “Disloyal?” He’d felt aroused and agitated and like a goddamn saint for putting her away from him.

“Because of that woman.” She took her hand from his thigh. “The one you wanted to marry.”

Vance let out a short, bitter laugh. “Oh, baby, you do ask the funniest questions.”

“You said you’d answer.”

Oh, what the hell, he thought, and found himself laying it out for her, something he hadn’t told anyone, not even the guys whom he considered brothers, the men he would have bled for, died for. The men whose wounds he’d bound. “I don’t feel the slightest bit of loyalty to Blythe. That’s the name of the ex. She sent me a Dear John letter a month after I’d returned to Afghanistan.”

Looking up at the sky, he laughed again. “Two weeks later I received another letting me know she was already dating someone else. My brother. The one and only Fucking Perfect Fitz.”

* * *

THE MORNING AFTER THE fruitless wait for the sunset’s green flash, Layla was stepping into Beach House No. 9 from the sliding glass door when she heard knocking on the front entrance at the other side of the house. Because she’d been at the food truck since dawn, she was unsure of the whereabouts of the other inhabitants, and hurried forward, only to see Vance place his hand on the knob and pull open the door.

Whoever was on the other side caused him to freeze. Curious—the visitor was obscured by his wide shoulders—she continued toward him and peeked around his body. An attractive middle-aged blonde was staring at him, her blue eyes wide.

Vance released a sigh. “Mom, what are you doing here?” he asked, his tone aggrieved.

“I...” Her gaze flicked from her son’s face to his cast and brace and she swallowed. “My car broke down.”

“And you just happened to be at Crescent Cove when you experienced your little automotive malfunction.”

“Well...” The woman’s slender back straightened. She wore a simple white T-shirt and a pair of jeans, and as Layla watched she seemed to plant her sandaled feet a little firmer on the concrete stoop. “Yes.”

“I’ll call you a tow truck.”

“I took care of that,” his mother said hastily. “I just need a ride back to the ranch.”

Vance radiated tension. “Absolutely not.”

An expression of anguish flickered over the woman’s face. Layla flinched in sympathy, but then she took a silent step back. This was none of her business. After what Vance had told her on the beach last night, she’d sworn off efforts at facilitating a Smith family reconciliation. Not now that she’d heard the details of his breakup with his fiancée.

Two weeks later I received another letting me know she was already dating someone else. My brother. The one and only Fucking Perfect Fitz.

He’d said he no longer felt loyalty to the ex. As if he didn’t still love her.

Layla was having a hard time believing a word of it.

Without daring to breathe, she took another step back, but the movement must have caught the eye of the woman on the other side of the door. Tilting her head, she met Layla’s gaze and stretched out slim fingers. “I’m Vance’s mother, Katie Smith.”

Her son turned to glare at Layla as she moved forward to shake hands. Well, what else could she do? “Layla Parker,” she murmured, then sent Vance a swift glance. “Uh, excuse me. I was just on my way to—”

“Surely you have a few minutes to chat,” Mrs. Smith said, propelling herself past her son. “You can show me around this pretty bungalow.”

Behind her, Vance groaned. “It’s rooms and a view.”

His mother tucked her arm in Layla’s elbow and steered her farther into the house. “I’d love to see them.”

“Don’t bother resisting,” Vance called out, trailing behind. “She’s a bulldozer. Mom, three minutes, and then I’m calling you a cab.”

Ignoring her son’s remark, she came to a halt in the sunny living room. “Oh,” she said, staring out at the ocean. “It’s beautiful.” Wearing a smile, she swung around to face Vance. Her gaze dropped to his injured arms again, and this time her cheery expression died. She put her face in her hands.

Layla’s heart twisted. Even Vance softened a little. In two strides he was at his mother’s side. Pulling her against him, he gave her a rough pat on her shoulder. “I’m okay, got it? Perfectly fine.”

One more quick squeeze, then he moved her away. “Let me get you a glass of water,” he said, disappearing in the direction of the kitchen.