The Palms Read online

  By

  The Palms

  Copyright © 2013 by S. Celi

  Book cover design copyright © 2013 Letitia Hasser at RBA Designs

  Published by Lowe Interactive Media, LLC

  First edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved

  1. Fiction/ Romance 2. Short stories

  Published in the United States of America

  Discover other titles by S. Celi at Amazon

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  December 6th, 2012

  8:00 PM, The Breakers Hotel

  auren Crawford slid into one of the new seats at the HMF bar at The Breakers Hotel and threw her purse down on the seat next to her. Thursday night in Palm Beach. Early December. The first night of a much-needed vacation. The tension in her shoulders faded as her breath steadied. Ever since she boarded the plane in Cincinnati, she had thought about ordering a cocktail here.

  Within seconds, the bartender strode over to her. “Can I… no, .may I, get you anything, Miss?” he asked as he placed cocktail napkins and a small white dish of salted and sweet cashew nuts in front of her. “Welcome to HMF.”

  She raised a sculpted black eyebrow as she glanced at the bartender. “Thanks.”

  “Do you know what you’d like to order? We have a new drink list.”

  “Nice place.” The bar occupied the center of the long room, opening up on one side to a long marble corridor that overlooked the blooming courtyard of the resort. She looked around the bar at the crowd — a mixed bunch of Palm Beach regulars and hotel guests. She didn’t recognize anyone. The resort must have hired new staff to go right along with this reboot of their bar. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Jason.”

  “Jason the bartender.”

  “The one and only.”

  Lauren looked him over. “This place just opened, right?”

  “Last week,” Jason said, reaching for a long red drink menu. “Well, the renovation just finished a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Well, the bar looks great,” Lauren replied, remembering the Breakers Hotel bar she knew as a kid — a quieter place with comfortable seating that her dad frequented to order Old Fashioneds and escape the family. The new HMF was awash in tropical blue upholstery, a bright checked carpet, gold leaf, and vintage details worthy of the 1960s. Even the staff created the atmosphere — women dressed in black dresses and pearls, and the men in crisp white shirts and black ties.

  People didn’t come here just to drink any more. They came here to be seen.

  “So far the response has been good. And, we’ve got about a dozen or so new cocktails on the menu, Miss.”

  Jason grinned and showed off a chiseled jaw she would have fallen hard for ten years ago. Now — not a chance. Ten years can be a long time. For Lauren, it had been a long time with the wrong men. Instead, she let herself admire his bright blue eyes and his tan. He handed her the menu, but she didn’t open it.

  “What do you recommend?” she replied after a moment, adding her signature broad smile. Inside, she thanked herself that she’d put on the red MAC lipstick before she left her family’s condominium at Palm Beach Biltmore.

  Jason stepped back and sized her up. “For you? I’d say The Redhead. You look like the type.”

  “But I don’t have red hair. I have black hair.” Black hair that she prided herself on, no less.

  “Doesn’t mean you won’t enjoy a sassy drink.” Jason picked up a glass from the bar in front of him as if he had already made up his mind to make it for her. “A little vodka, some blood orange liquor, cranberry juice, and lime foam. I think it’s the one for you.”

  “Okay. Done. The Redhead it is.” Lauren made sure to pause before she said the name of the drink. Then she added another wide smile. Years with bad men had taught her plenty about how to be a flirt — she knew how to laugh, smile, and make observations that could charm anyone. And, without being arrogant, Lauren knew she had the type of body that made men take second glances.

  Jason turned away to start the order, and she turned her attention back to people watching. All around the room, Lauren saw a smattering of rich Palm Beach men, women trying to hide their age, trust fund children, and European tourists. In fact, people had taken every seat in the bar. As she watched, it occurred to her how comfortable, how usual, how normal for this town the whole scene looked. Rich, beautiful people lounged in white leather chairs and laughed at private jokes. They ate expensive miniature pizzas topped with figs off of tiny plates and drank endless glasses of craft beer and French wine. Every one of them wore the casual indifference that comes from regular vacations to exotic locations. She might not have visited the island in eight years — not since college — but some things about Palm Beach never changed.

  Ever.

  After a few minutes, Jason placed her drink in front of her with a smile, and she took a sip. “I like it,” she told him as the alcohol slid down her throat. “I like it a lot.”

  “I knew you would.” Jason returned her grin. “Like I said. You looked like the type.”

  “Come on, I bet you say that to everyone. I have to be a little more mysterious than that.”

  “I don’t think so,” Jason said. “You’re not that hard.”

  “What makes you say I’m so easy to read?”

  “Just somethin’ about you makes me think you are. Maybe it’s the hair.” Jason nodded in the direction of the still unopened menu. “Do you want to order anything? We have a full menu here at the bar. Have you taken a look?”

  “Not yet.” Lauren thought about it a moment as she swallowed more of her drink. “Well.” She tossed him a smile. “Since you’re such an expert on me, why don’t you pick something?”

  Jason placed two hands on the bar. “You look like a sushi girl to me.”

  “A sushi girl?” Lauren replied, turning interested once again at Jason’s choices for her. In truth, she didn’t eat much sushi. “What does a sushi girl look like?”

  “Like you.”

  A grin spread across her face. “Very funny.”

  “You’ll like ours,” said Jason, confident. “We use fish caught right here in West Palm. The good stuff.” He glanced over at the other patrons. By now, HMF had a steady stream of new customers coming in the front entrance, no doubt fresh from dinner or one of the many parties hosted every night on the island. They jockeyed for tables and places at the bar like investors on the floor of the NYSE.

  Lauren held up two fingers. “Two rolls. Your pick. But no eel.” She wrinkled her nose. “I hate eel.”

  “I’ll make sure we serve you plenty of eel, then.” Jason smirked at her, gesturing in the direction her dwindling drink. “Another Redhead?”

  “You read my mind,” Lauren replied, and laughed. As Jason turned away to place her order she turned her head and got an even better look at the people who’d just sat down at the bar, making it go from half empty to full in about ten minutes.

  That’s when her laughter died.

  There he sat on the other side of the bar, right in her vantage point. Right there, across from Lauren, and next to a tan blonde woman with curly hair who had to be in her 30s. Who at that very moment had her hand nestled in his caramel colored hair.

  Him.


  She would have recognized him anywhere, even though she hadn’t seen him in ten years. The passage of time didn’t matter at all. Not when it came to him. Full green eyes. A roguish grin. Firm, chiseled jaw. A small spray of stubble fanned out from his lips. Ten years had changed him of course, but she still recognized the smirk and the way his eyes intoxicated and mocked her. Lauren tried to look away and ignore the way her heart constricted in her chest, but she couldn’t. Not this time.

  Trent Matthews.

  Older, but no less handsome. No less electrifying. And no less magnetic.

  “Oh my God,” she said under her breath. “I just can’t believe it.”

  Lauren gave a quick glance down at her drink. She hoped he hadn’t seen her, and that he didn’t realize she sat so close. The blood rushed to her face and the memories of ten years ago flooded her unwilling mind. She took another quick swig of the cocktail. Another. And then a third one. Still not enough.

  “Damn,” she said as she looked at her drink. Cocktails were all the same, no matter who made them — all fanfare, flash, and no substance. Now she had no more alcohol, and nothing more to distract her. She looked up again, this time over her right shoulder, and shuddered.

  Trent Matthews stared right back at her — every chiseled, sculpted section of him. His bright eyes ensnared her. His broad shoulders questioned her. His jaw popped as he kept up the stare. As the seconds passed, he ignored the blonde woman seated next to him. For a brief moment, Lauren wondered if that woman was supposed to be his date. She wondered if she still cared.

  Of course she did.

  “What the hell?” she muttered under her breath. “After all this time?”

  Why did Trent have to show up here? Why now?

  “I’ll get you another drink,” Jason said from behind the bar, interrupting the protests that sounded in her head. “Maybe a stronger one?” She nodded her head at him quickly before turning her attention back to the man who’d stopped her heart.

  A few more ticks of stalemate passed before Trent stood up from the bar. He leaned down and said something to the woman next to him. By now, the bartender who tended that section of the long bar had delivered their drinks. Trent’s date nodded at the bartender and tossed a smile at him. She didn’t look at Lauren — didn’t even notice her. Instead, the woman picked up her drink, took a sip, and pulled out her cell phone as Trent walked away.

  Meanwhile, Lauren watched Trent leave the bar. Her eyes followed him as he strode into the center of the room, his athletic frame just one of many at HMF that night. Her eyes took in his grey slacks, black polo shirt, and dark Sperry Topsiders as he moved further away from her. If they talked to each other again, would he see into her soul the same way he did all those years ago? Did he still have the same abs she remembered? He certainly had the same gorgeous face. How would she handle it if he did talk to her? Why did he leave her so long ago, without so much as an explanation? What had happened to him since he left? Could he still make her laugh the way he used to when they were kids?

  She let out a long sigh as she decided he didn’t plan to speak to her. Maybe she’d be able to let this uncanny encounter pass. Probably for the best. Perhaps the past was just that — the past. She could hope. And hope. And hope some more.

  Just as Trent made it to the center of the room, he stopped. He looked to his left, then his right, and put one hand in his left pocket. Lauren wondered what he was thinking, and she contemplated a quick exit out of the back of the bar. If she left right then, maybe he wouldn’t notice. The Breakers was a huge hotel with plenty of exits and even more places to hide.

  “Excuse me, sir?” Lauren thought quickly. Jason turned in her direction from the bar and she continued. “Did I forget to tell you the order’s to go?” She pushed onward as the bartender frowned. “Yes — I’m so silly. I meant to tell you that.” Lauren fished around in her leopard print bag. “Let me see, where that card... is… oh... right. Here it is. Just charge it, please.” She handed Jason her American Express. “Sorry about the mix up.”

  Meanwhile, her thoughts stayed on Trent. They didn’t have to encounter each other again after this. She could pretend for the rest of her life that this brief encounter with Trent Matthews had never happened. Right?

  Seconds later, she got her answer.

  In the middle of the wide room, Trent Matthews turned around and faced her. He fixed his eyes on hers, pinning her to her bar stool as he walked over to where Lauren sat. As he moved toward her, his stare never left hers. Not even once he reached her seat.

  “Hello,” he said. The greeting came out confident, but also low enough that she knew Trent only wanted her to hear it. He added a half smile. “Good to see you again.”

  Lauren didn’t answer right away. Instead, she broke the gaze, glanced over at her drink and saw Jason had replaced it with a fresh one. On the inside, she cursed Jason for being so good at his job. On the outside, she picked it up and took a long, casual drink of the cocktail.

  “Hi.” When she spoke, her words came out softly too.

  She didn’t add anything else. She couldn’t bring herself to say more. Not right then. In the silence, Trent leaned in a little closer to her. Lauren couldn’t tell if he did this for effect, or if he just wanted her to hear him over the din of the other people in the bar. Either way, the move ruffled her.

  She hated being ruffled. Hated it.

  “I looked over and I couldn’t... it's you, isn’t it, Lauren?” Trent asked. “After all this time — you’re back. Here. In Palm Beach.”

  “Yes,” she replied as she tipped her drink at him. She took another swallow, and the effects of the alcohol started to take hold in her body. Thank God Jason made this cocktail about two times stronger than the last one. “It’s me, Trent.” She smiled and drank more of the cocktail. She hoped she sounded flip and unfettered — the exact opposite of the way she felt inside.

  Trent smiled back at her, a grin so familiar and at the same time so annoying. He looked, as he did years ago, like a boy who knew he had the whole world as his personal playground. The thing of it was, this boy had now become a man. And the man looked even better that the boy. She hadn’t thought it possible. Well, for years she had tried not to think about that at all. But right then, she knew it was true.

  She’d have to keep herself in check. For sure.

  “What are you doing here, Lauren?”

  “What does anyone do here?” She shrugged. “I’m staying at my family’s place. Just thought I would take some time to relax, and get away from Ohio.”

  She added a vague, breezy gesture toward the rest of the room. By now, HMF didn’t have single table or bar stool open. All around the room, people passed drinks and laughed at stories about golf scores and European cruises. No one noticed the strained, awkward conversation happening at the corner of the bar.

  “I haven’t seen your family down here in forever,” Trent muttered.

  “That’s because they haven’t wanted to see you.” She paused as Trent flinched. “And I stopped coming down with them once I went to college.”

  “You look happy, Lauren.”

  Lauren gave him a saccharine, sarcastic smile. “I am happy. Life’s good in Cincinnati. And I’m starting a new job in a couple of weeks—” She broke off, aware she’d just offered him more information than she had planned to.

  “That’s good.” Trent looked down the bar in the direction of the woman he’d left behind. Lauren did too, and saw the woman still staring at her phone.

  “So. Who’s she?” Lauren couldn’t help asking the question. This was Trent Matthews, after all. She had a right to be a little direct. In fact, she probably had reason to be more than direct.

  “A friend,” Trent said dismissively, embarrassed to realize he couldn’t even remember her name. He faltered on what to say next. “Just a friend.”

  Lauren saw his eyes wander over her black peplum dress. She chose to ignore the action. “Well. She’s a very beautiful friend.”
/>
  “She is.” Trent leaned a little closer to her, fully ignoring whoever he’d come with to HMF. As he did this, Lauren got a whiff of his aftershave. “I wish someone had told me you were coming back to the island.”

  “Why?” Lauren raised a sculpted eyebrow and lowered her voice to a sexier octave. “So you could ban me? I think this island is big enough for the both of us.” Her flirtatious defense cracked just a bit. “And it’s been ten years.”

  “More like ten minutes.”

  “Maybe for you.”

  “Maybe for you, too?” Trent looked down at his watch, a large, silver designer number that showed both the date and the time. He never went a day without it wrapped around his wrist because he liked the security that it brought him. “Listen, I’m thinking—”

  “Here is your sushi, Miss.” Jason set down a to-go bag.

  Trent held up his hand to stop her and Lauren thought she saw something like panic flash across his face. “Wait. You’re leaving?”

  “Yes.”

  “But it’s early,” Trent said, a little flustered. He even gaped at her. “You shouldn’t leave yet.” He pointed at her drink. “Besides, it doesn’t look like you’ve drank enough of these. Surely you want another one.”

  “Want and need are two different things, Trent.”

  “Well, maybe you need another one, then.”

  Lauren shook her head. “It’s been a long day,” she lied. “And I’m very tired.”

  Another member of the wait staff placed the check in front of her; she picked up her drink and gulped down the last few drops of it. Trent watched her do this, but it didn’t cause Lauren to break. She wouldn’t let him delay her. Not tonight.

  “How long are you here?” he tried.

  Lauren opened the checkbook.

  “A few days,” she said as she signed the check without stopping to examine the charges. “Maybe a week. Just a quick getaway.” She closed the black sleeve and grinned at him. “It was nice to see you.”

  “Wait… ugh… nice… nice to see me?” Trent sputtered. “Nice to see me?”