of a massive ego.”
“He should have an ego, ’cause that dude was smokin’ hot.” Zoe elbowed Ashley. “And kinda nekkid, too. I’d like to take a ride on those shoulders.”
Tessa covered Ashley’s ears. “Nice in front of the kid.”
“I’m fourteen, Aunt Tessa.”
“I don’t give a damn about his shoulders.” Lacey snapped the band holding the papers together so hard it broke. “He came here under false pretenses, probably some kind of impostor who hacks e-mail to get work.”
Zoe choked. “Yeah, there’s a lot of that on the Internet. Like he couldn’t get work as a male pros—model.”
Lacey spread open one of the rolls on the hood of her car. “We’re going to get a lot of con men down here after the storm… so…” Good God in heaven. “We should be…”
“We should be what, Mom?”
A slow, prickly chill climbed up her arms, raising the hair on her neck.
“We should be careful,” she whispered, staring at the simple ink sketch that took everything she couldn’t imagine but felt in her heart and brought it to black-and-white life.
“Careful of what, Mom?”
“Jumping to the wrong conclusion.” She stepped back, her hand to her mouth, her breath captured in her lungs, her legs a little wobbly. “Like I just did.”
“Wow.” Jocelyn leaned over her shoulder. “What do you need to do to get him to build that?’Cause I’m pretty sure Zoe will do it for you.”
“I need…” An architect with vision. “A second chance.”
Chapter Four
Hey.” Lacey tapped and pushed open the door to her childhood bedroom to find Ashley curled on the bed over her brand-new laptop. The one that had been deemed a “necessity replacement” days after the storm.
Ashley instantly lowered the screen, looking up with surprisingly bright eyes.
“You okay?” Lacey had to fight the urge to launch forward, arms out, maternal instinct at the ready.
“Fine.” With one finger she gingerly snapped the computer closed, shutting down whatever she’d been doing.
Lacey ran through a list of possibilities. Nine times out of ten, it was teen-girl drama that brought color to Ashley’s cheeks and fire to her eyes.
“You still want to go over to Meagan’s tonight?” Lacey asked, walking that fine line between privacy and parenting. Most of the time privacy won, because if anyone knew firsthand what a meddlesome mother could do to a teenage girl, it was Lacey.
“Oh, yeah.”
“What’s going on, then?” And sometimes parenting won.
“Nothing, Mom. I’m just Facebooking.” Evidently, that was a verb now.
“Anyone special?”
“No.” She scooted off the bed. “They’re waiting for me at Meagan’s. Can we go now?”
“Absolutely.” Lacey jangled her keys. “Zoe and Tessa and I are going to drop you off and go out to dinner.”
“Not Jocelyn?”
“She wanted to stay at the hotel.”
As Ashley scooped up a turquoise Hollister tote bag—another post-storm necessity—and grabbed a pillow from the bed, she threw a dubious look at Lacey. “Why does she come all the way across the country to see you and hole up at some hotel?”
Good question. “You’ve seen the Ritz in Naples. Hardly ‘some’ hotel.”
“But, Mom, I don’t get it.”
Neither do we, Lacey thought. “You know she grew up here and her mom died a while ago, so she has sad memories of this island.” Before a more elaborate explanation was required, Ashley’s cell phone vibrated and took her attention.
She read, and shrieked. “Oh my freaking Gawd!” Her fingers flew over the screen.
“Ashley, don’t talk like that.”
“Tiffany says Matt’s breaking up with Cami Stanford! It’s totally over!” She clicked more, the text winning over an explanation.
“Tiffany? Tiffany Osborne?” The one who was caught with pot in her locker in eighth grade? “Is she going to be at Meagan’s tonight? I didn’t think they were friends.”
“Maybe I have a chance with Matt now.”
Lacey tensed. “Have I met Matt?
Ashley put away her phone and gave Lacey a look that said it all. Back off, Mom. And because her own mother never had, Lacey let the conversation go as they piled into Lacey’s car and headed toward Meagan’s house.
“Would you look at that?” Zoe mused as they cruised through town.
“Look at what?” Lacey asked.
“Interesting,” Zoe said, sliding a look to Tessa that Lacey didn’t quite get.
“What’s interesting?” Lacey pressed.
“Just that little place with the drunk-looking bird on the front. It’s cute. Let’s have dinner there.”
“The Toasted Pelican?” Lacey shook her head. “No way we’re going there. They have sucky bar food. I think we should either go to South of the Border for Mexican or see—”
“I want to go to the Toasted Pelican,” Zoe said. “It looks like fun.”
“It