Page 2 of After Care

Out of respect, I told myself.

To hold me prisoner, my mind whispered.

Take me, I foolishly screamed, and then the deepest blush I’ve ever experienced crawled over my skin, prickly, tickly, tingly like the tiny tap of a million feet. I shivered again. The motion snapped his attention and he turned away.

“Tommy, this is…” the young mother paused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Edie,” I said, holding out my hand while the other fingers found security in touching the fabric just above my ear. “Edie Williams.”

“This is Tommy Carrigan. He’s the band’s manager.” She turned to look up at him over her shoulder, her smile affectionate. “He’s a giant teddy bear when he isn’t acting like a grumpy eagle.” She pouted as she spun back to me.

“Don’t be ruining my reputation before I make an impression, sweetheart,” he teased with a hint of Southern drawl, his eyes redirected to the pool but his shoulders loosening a little. Oh, he’d made an impression all right. A deep one, right between my thighs just from the sound of his voice.

Then I noticed my hand still lingering in the air, waiting for him to reach out and shake mine. When he didn’t, I awkwardly lowered it, fussing with my scarf one more time.

“Don’t mind him,” the woman said. “By the way, I’m Ivy. Ivy Everly, and I’m happy to meet you.”

Her smile put me at ease. For some reason, I was just as pleased to meet her.

Funny how a random introduction changed everything.

2

A sane woman would never

The headscarf isn’t there, I reminded myself.

Reaching for it had become a habit, but I didn’t wear it that night.

You don’t need it, Masie told me as I got ready for the evening and I agreed. This was the first step to a new me, I encouraged myself, only my heart hammered at the thought as I pulled open the solid club doors. The tropical air tickled my neck while the wave of air-conditioning hit my face. The humid caress was a welcome feeling as I questioned once again, how had I gotten myself into this position.

Within hours of meeting, Ivy had invited me to join her for cocktails. At first, I hesitated knowing we were on a family vacation, but my daughter encouraged me to go. She also agreed to babysit Ivy’s little girls. And just like that, I was going out for drinks with Ivy Everly and her famous husband, Gage, lead singer of Collision, a band I knew nothing about.

My son told me they were something. “Mom, how have you not heard of them?” His voice echoed in my head. Suddenly, my arm was enveloped by another, and my face shot up to find Ivy’s arm looped around mine. Her big, blue eyes widened like a smile.

“Ready?” she asked, tugging at me as I smoothed my black dress over my hips with my free hand. I was still a little bloated from the treatments—everyone responded differently—although my body shape was getting better. However, I’d never return to the shape I was twenty years ago.

Without thinking, I reached up, my fingers finding soft hair unhidden by a scarf, reminding me once again of how far I’d come.

“You look beautiful,” Ivy said, and I looked at her again, my brows pinching at the compliment. Her eyes saddened for only a second before she let the sympathy pass and a smile brightened her face. She squeezed my arm tighter. “There’s Tommy.”

My eyes flipped instantly to a man I had no business staring at, or thinking about, although he’d filled every thought since we were introduced earlier in the day.

Tommy Carrigan.

Not Tom. Not Thomas. Tommy—even at age forty-five or so. His salt and pepper hair gave his age away, but more accurately, the slightly longer locks curling at his neck were shimmery silver and black satin. My mouth dried when he looked in our direction. My cheeks heated, and I was thankful for the dim light covering the teenage-like feeling of embarrassment. I was only embarrassing myself with thoughts I shouldn’t have had of a man whose very essence said player. His solid, barrel chest and thick biceps under another black T-shirt proved what I already knew about him. He wasn’t a young man, but all male. There was a certain sexiness about an older man, one no longer lean with a six pack, but firm, with a rounded chest and tight abdominal muscles. Tommy’s T-shirt showed all that off, leaving not much to the imagination. Unfortunately, my imagination was running rampant, as was my heart. I was doubly grateful for the pulsing beat of the bar music drowning out the organ in my chest drumming three times faster than usual.

When we met earlier in the day, Tommy had the same effect on me and I credited the shiver up my spine to being out of practice in the art of attraction. I was instantly overwhelmed by his dark looks. Yet his defensive vibe of crossed arms and refusal to shake my hand left a salty impression on me. His standoffish presence set up a wall between us, and I scolded myself for overreacting to his rock star hotness.

As Ivy and I crossed the night club, I was conscious of people watching us, wondering myself how she ended up escorting me? Despite her innocent look, Ivy walked like she owned the room, and many eyes followed her every move. The stares could have also been intended for the man making a bee-line for us. With dark, chin-length waves and even darker, intense eyes, Gage Everly’s focus was solely on his wife. Within seconds, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her like he hadn’t seen her in years. Ivy’s arm was still looped with mine, making me the literal third wheel to their passionate display of affection. Attempting to free myself from Ivy’s grasp, my opposite hand was clasped, and I spun to find Tommy holding it. His fingers spread and without thinking, I laced mine with his.

The thick digits brought an instant comfort and distraction. A strange ripple traveled up my wrist, increasing my pulse and ratcheting up my already pounding heart.

“Gage,” Tommy barked, and the lovers broke apart. He shook his head, and I looked back to find a wicked smile on Gage’s lips and a dazed look in Ivy’s eyes. “Don’t make me have to babysit,” he commanded, and Ivy turned to face him. Shaky fingers came to her lips and they curved into a smile.

“Chill, Care,” Gage snapped, wrapping an arm around his wife. The nickname startled me.

“Sorry, Uncle Tommy,” Ivy mocked, but there was a certain teasing familiarity when she spoke to him.