Shayla's Story (The Mathews/Clemmins Family Series) Read online

  Shayla’s Story

  ~A Reason, a Season, or a Lifetime~

  BEVERLY PRESTON

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2013 by Beverly Preston

  ISBN: 1490470042

  All rights reserved.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold

  or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the retailer and purchase your own copy.

  Cover image by Rob Lang.

  http://www.roblangimages.com/

  Cover designed by Linda Boulanger

  www.TellTaleBookCovers.weebly.com

  Visit Beverly Preston at http://www.beverlypreston.com

  To Don—my Richard, my Tommy, my John

  I love you

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To Don, my husband who loves me endlessly, thanks for cooking more often, putting up with a messy house and sacrificing a few date nights while I took the time to write.

  My youngest daughter, thank you for making wonderful dinners, you may truly be a chef one day.

  My four kids, thanks for allowing me to bounce questions off of you, no matter how absurd. Your input proves to be invaluable to me.

  Caylee, my oldest daughter, words cannot express the gratitude I have for all of the time spent helping me with final line edits. Even though the hours proved to be grueling, I absolutely loved every minute. You are awesome! You are my rock, my best friend!

  To my family and friends who supported me in my endeavors, gave me words of encouragement and showed up with wine at the perfect time, your support and friendship are priceless. Sandy Mohn, Sherrie Lee, Karen Collins, Jewel Peck, and Lynette Owens, thanks for your support ladies!

  Rob Lang and Linda Boulanger for providing the photograph and design work to create a gorgeous cover.

  Paul Rega, thank you for enlightening me in the art of self-promotion. Go team Pay It Forward!

  I would also like to thank Natascha at SPJ Editing, my friend and editor.

  Ellen DeGeneres, I hope you read this someday; without you there would be no dream.

  To everyone who is falling in love with The Mathews/Clemmins Family, I cannot thank you enough for your patience, support and words of encouragement.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  Clumps of firmly packed sand fell from Shayla’s feet, leaving a trail of wet footprints across the parking lot. Droplets from her ponytail and wetsuit evaporated on contact with the warm concrete sidewalk.

  Shayla reached back, tugging on the zipper pull at the nape of her neck, exposing her bare shoulders to the warmth of the California sunrays slipping through the morning haze. Stopping to adjust her surfboard, she gave a cordial nod to the group of hard-bodied surfers changing beneath the towels wrapped around their waists.

  Record-breaking November temperatures rejuvenated the typically tranquil morning into a bustling day at the beach. Families loaded down with bulky coolers, beach chairs, floppy hats and SPF 50 rushed to stake a claim on a blanket size piece of prime Malibu beach real estate.

  Every day at 10:00am came the changing of the tide; big swells that drew the early morning line-up of surfers mellowed, leaving ideal waves for body boarders to enjoy.

  Shayla trekked up the hill heading for home. Sounds of the weakening surf grew faint, replaced by the croon of mocking birds taking up residence in the giant palm trees that lined the quaint, established neighborhood. She extended neighborly hellos to the routine dog-walkers and exercise enthusiasts out for their morning run.

  Shayla rounded the corner, and a surprised smile etched across her lips as she caught a glimpse of the familiar silver sedan parked in her driveway. Her pace quickened and she anxiously trotted down the pavestone driveway. Shayla hadn’t seen Mat in over two weeks, other than dropping by campaign headquarters to deliver lunch and a quick peck on the cheek. He’d barely found time to answer her goodnight phone call.

  She fumbled one-handedly with the latch on the redwood gate. Propping her board against the house, she ducked into the outdoor shower hidden within the lush foliage at the back of her house. Shimmying out of her wetsuit and bikini, she impatiently washed off the remainder of gritty sand and saltwater, replacing it with the sweet scent of honeysuckle body-wash and shampoo.

  Mathew Huntston was the son of Margret Huntston, Mayor of the affluent city of View Point. After two terms as acting Mayor, she set her sights on bigger and brighter lights: the Governorship of the state of California. She had the reputation of a feminine liberal, but many perceived her as cold and ambitious. Shayla simply thought of her as the potential intimidating future mother-in-law from hell.

  Mat hadn’t popped the question, but he’d brought up somedays and forevers on more than one occasion. At the moment, Shayla was simply more interested in right now. She hoped to take advantage of a private moment whenever they got the chance. November marked the beginning of a yearlong campaign. The grueling schedule and highly publicized campaign would be daunting.

  Shayla wrung the excess water from her long blonde hair and wrapped a towel around her. The mouthwatering aroma of breakfast hit her before she even made it through the back door.

  Mat stood in front of the stove dressed in grey slacks and a light blue dress shirt. Steam drifted from a kettle as he poured boiling water into her favorite mug on the counter.

  “Hey.” She padded barefoot behind him resting her hand on his firm shoulder. “This is a nice surprise.”

  Mat turned to face her, placing a kiss of affection on top her head. “Me or the breakfast?”

  “Both,” she simmered. Shayla teetered on her toes, raising her lips toward his. Slipping her fingers into the folds of the towel, she began to disrobe. “I didn’t expect to see you until tonight.”

  Mat briefly pressed his lips to hers before clasping hold of her delicate hands and drawing them to his lips. “I can’t stay. I have to get back to work.”

  Her hopes of spending the morning in bed squashed, she slumped, resting her forehead against to his chest in disappointment.

  A gorgeous arrangement of vibrant lilac iris and sweet-smelling magnolia blossoms beaconed from the center of the breakfast nook table. “He seems to have outdone himself this time.”

  Shayla twisted her neck, following Mat’s gaze to the stunning bouquet. Shayla’s uncle made a thoughtful habit of sending her flowers for any and all special occasions. “They are beautiful and they stand for good luck.”

  “And I just bet they smell good too.”

  “You know, it’s not a competition.”

  “I’m just glad I brought you breakfast instead of flowers.” He cupped her chin, flashing a charade of a smile. “And I have something for you to wear tonight.”

  “I’d rather just wear you tonight.”

  Mat personified
the term Classic Male Americana; everything from his sandy blonde hair and trim defined physique, to the predictable turtleneck sweater he’d wear that evening. He could lavish her with extravagant gifts, but all she truly yearned for was quality time spent together as a couple.

  He pulled a white box with the initials HW from his pocket and set it in her hand. “I thought these would be the perfect accessory for you to wear at the gala.”

  Mat lifted the lid, exposing a pair of gorgeous drop earrings.

  Shayla traced the tip of her finger over the delicate strand of brilliant diamonds and rubies linked to form the shape of a heart. She smiled, touched by his attention to detail. The Have a Heart Foundation was Shayla’s favorite charity and tonight was the Bare Your Soul extravaganza.

  “They’re beautiful,” she whispered softly, wrapping her arms around his waist.

  Mat stood aloof, patting her back mechanically.

  Mat was not a big hugger. Displaying emotion through the warmth of physical connection of any kind seemed unacceptable in the Huntston family. Shayla suspected Mrs. Huntston thought of sentiment as weakness, a politian’s Achilles’ Heel. Every time she greeted Mat or his family with even the slightest embrace, it was like wrapping her arms around an ironing board. She learned quickly to abandon her typical greeting of a comforting hug, replacing it with a proper handshake or civil nod of the head.

  Peering down at the gift, she narrowed her eyes as a foreseeable notion climbed into her head. “You are still coming to the gala with me tonight, aren’t you?”

  “Of course.” He scoffed as if she were acting impractical, resting his hands firmly on both shoulders. “Tonight is one of Los Angeles’ biggest social events of the year. I’d never miss it.”

  “Of course,” she repeated disheartened, dropping her arms at her side. “Voters. And here I thought maybe you were attending the gala to raise awareness for heart disease.”

  He wiggled the breakfast-to-go box with LocoMoco written across the top as if it were a peace offering. “I’m attending to support my girlfriend.”

  The delicious aroma of her favorite breakfast, a LocoMoco surf bowl, eased her irritancy when hunger took over. Sounds of appreciation swelled from her throat.

  “Yumm.” She pulled out two forks and handed one to Mat, eagerly digging into the layers of brown rice, turkey burger, salsa, three egg whites and a pinch of sprinkle cheese.

  “Unfortunately––” he shook his head, passing on breakfast and setting his fork back on the counter “—I do have an important meeting, a dinner meeting, so I’m going—”

  “What?” She choked on a mouth full of food. “Seriously, Mat?”

  Unable to mask her anger and disappointment, Shayla nearly lobbed the bowl on the counter. “I’m announcing this year’s recipient of the Humanitarian Award! Tonight’s a huge honor for me! Why—”

  “I’ll be there. I’m simply going to be a little late. Cecil Marsh is one of our biggest contributors.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Cecil is one of your mother’s good friends—”

  “Cecil endorsed my father until he had no choice but to walk away after my father’s affair became national news. His support is essential for my mother’s campaign. We’ve already leaked it to the media and my presence shows a strong united force.”

  “I’ve already arranged for a car to pick you up. I promise to make it up to you after the gala.” He flashed his infamous smile known for soothing her irritancy.

  Her gaze shifted out the window toward the ocean. They’d already had this discussion several times. She understood the campaign would be his number one priority, but he’d promised to support her at the Have a Heart fundraiser.

  Each of them had busy careers, which required unwavering loyalty. Shayla worked diligently as her uncle’s personal assistant for six years, not including the four years he spent coaching her for the position while attending college. Her job was most often filled a forty hour plus work week, but at times required her attention twelve hours a day seven days a week.

  Shayla admired Mat’s steadfast devotion to his family and job. However, her uncle would never purposely sabotage an important event to drive a wedge between her and Mat.

  Margret Huntston would.

  She released a heavy exhale, calming her frustration while she collected her thoughts.

  Mat jiggled her fingers, waiting for a response.

  “You don’t need to send a car. I’ll just drive. I should get there early anyway.” She didn’t need to arrive early, but it rolled out of her mouth, wanting to keep the peace and her agitation from boiling over. The last thing she needed today was another round in the on-going debate about how little time they spent together. “Thank you for the earrings.”

  “I’ll be there,” he assured, heading toward the front door.

  “I hope so,” she said somberly, reaching for the doorknob. “I make the announcement at 9:30pm.”

  “I won’t be late.” Mat kissed her cheek and jaunted down the front steps.

  Traipsing into the kitchen, Shayla dug into her surf bowl. Daydreaming out the window, she wondered if he’d really show up on time. Judging past performances, Mat would be late. She believed in being perpetually punctual and Mat was always fashionably late.

  The buzzing of her cell phone brought her into reality. Seeing her best friends face flash across the screen, she answered, “Hello?”

  “Hey! I’m so glad I caught you,” Carrie Ann babbled anxiously on the other end of the line. “I figured you’d be on your board this morning.”

  “I just walked in from the beach a few minutes ago. How’s set up going?”

  “Great. Actually, I’m not there. I left the other members in charge so I can finish the calendar shoot. Which is why I’m calling,” Carrie Ann spewed in a caffeine-fueled rush of words. As a member of the Advisory Board to the Have a Heart Foundation, Carrie Ann created the Bare Your Soul calendar. “I was thinking, you should come over here and get your hair and makeup done for tonight.”

  Shayla didn’t spend much time on her hair, keeping it all one length and naturally blonde. She dreaded the extra fuss of hair and makeup that came with attending charity events, movie openings and any other red carpet extravaganzas requiring more than a blow-dryer and flat-iron. “Are you sure? That would be awesome!”

  “Ha! I knew you’d be happy. You owe me.” Playful sarcasm filtered through her amusement.

  “Would you prefer your traditional rich creamy vanilla latte or the holiday favorite, pumpkin spice?” Shayla mocked in her best sales pitch voice. “Whip? Or no whip?”

  “No more coffee for me. I’ve drunk enough caffeine to organize three charity events. I’ll be switching to Vodka if my day gets any worse,” Carrie Ann taunted with a grumble.

  “What’s the problem? Too many creative thinking caps in one room?”

  “Something like that. Hurry up and get over here so I can vent in detail.”

  “Try to hold off on the Vodka until after dinner.”

  “Yeah…okay,” Carrie Ann teased doubtfully, her tone sounding calmer already. “Speaking of dinner. What time are you and Mat arriving tonight?”

  “I take it back, I’ll bring the shaker and glasses. Let’s start now.” Shayla’s humor soured and she cleared the agitation from her throat. “I’m flying solo.”

  Silence.

  “Oh boy,” Carrie Ann finally said. “Bring your gown. We’ll go together.”

  Her spirits lifted. “That sounds like a fantastic idea. I’ll be there in a half hour.”

  The extreme beach house Carrie Ann borrowed from her real estate acquaintance for her photo shoot left Shayla speechless as she pulled up to the grand driveway.

  She entered the code Carrie Ann gave her and the regal iron gate creaked open with grandeur slowness. Following directions, she parked her car in the garage and gathered her things. Carrying a small overnight bag and her dress, she stepped into the elevator.

  The doors parted when she
reached the ground level.

  “Wow,” she said in astonishment.

  Shayla ventured into the dramatic entrance at a turtle’s pace, taking in the stark modern sophistication of the home. Glass and light filled the house with sunshine, illuminating the art hanging singularly on each white wall. The slapping of her sandals echoed against the bare concrete floors as she cautiously made her way across a bridge floating above a magnificent fish aquarium.

  She peered down into a massive tank filled with vibrant artificial coral and colorful fish. “It’s like an art museum for fish.”

  Familiar voices swept through the house, carried in with a cool moist breeze and the sounds of the crashing surf.

  “Hello?” she called out.

  Carrie Ann peeked in from outside the open doorway at the back of the house. “Pretty cool, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll say.” Shayla scanned over the contemporary sculpture made of scrap metal taking on the shape of a woman standing in the breeze with her hair blowing in long wisps. The large piece encompassed the entire a corner of the living room.

  Carrie Ann greeted her with a quick squeeze. “The private after-party starts right after the gala, but I’m keeping it low key.”

  Her fair skin and pixie cut accentuated the mischievous sparkle in her emerald eyes, but most people only made it as far as her cleavage. She unapologetically embraced her full figured curves in a city known for its paper-thin image.

  “I’ll have to pass. Mat and I have plans.” Heat climbed to her cheeks and Shayla grinned apologetically. She dropped her head back and lifted her hands skyward with fingers extended fully. “Finally! A night alone.”

  “Aw, you poor thing.” Carrie Ann pouted impishly. “You still haven’t gotten laid? What’s it been? Two weeks?”

  “Try almost four!” Shayla opened her eyes wide with painful protest. “He dropped by this morning to give me a pair of earrings to wear tonight. I thought I was going to tackle him right there in the kitchen, but before I could even get my towel off, he left.”