PAR FOR CINDERELLA

by MCCARTY, PETIE

  “Deedee, I’ve got to go,” he said, suddenly anxious to get back to Casey.

  “But I’m not done.”

  “Stay and enjoy your dessert. I’ve got this,” he told her and reached for his wallet.

  “I changed my mind,” Deedee called to the waitress nearby to cancel her dessert order.

  Aidan suffered a huge dose of guilty guts as he paid the tab and walked Deedee out. She had helped him. The least he could have done was let her enjoy the whole dinner. Not like he could hide his presence in here with her. Someone would tell Casey by tomorrow, if not tonight.

  Remorse pushed him to apologize, but Deedee stepped in close when they reached her sportscar.

  “I’ll still text the pictures of the agreements.” She looked earnest.

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  “So I did help you, right?”

  “You sure did, and I can’t thank you enough. The residents of Cypress Key thank you too.” He’d said all the right words, but the skin on the back of his neck prickled. That usually meant danger nearby.

  Deedee dangerous?

  “Well if you are leaving and leaving without me and I did help you, don’t you think you owe me a little ole kiss goodbye?”

  His heart screamed, “Don’t do it, idiot!” His head countered under the weight of his guilt with, She did risk getting caught rummaging in her father’s files in order to do you a huge favor, and she did say it was just one little kiss. If she gets it, she will finally give up.

  His neck prickled to the point of annoyance.

  “You’re right.” He made his decision, went with his head, and leaned in to give her a quick chaste peck.

  Deedee hit him like a runaway freight train.

  ~ ~ ~

  Casey stewed over Aidan’s errand all through dinner with her uncle and through three inquisitions over what was bothering her, plus a few, “Why so quiet?”

  Her standard answer was, “Nothing,” until Frank got disgusted and went downstairs, so he didn’t have to, “Listen to you be quiet.”

  A discussion with Uncle Frank would have immediately drifted to the subject of trusting Aidan, which right now would be a rather difficult conversation. She couldn’t trust Aidan not to leave her because he had never promised not to leave her. He’d been up front from the beginning about his leaving one day.

  Aidan was his own man, and he naturally drew women like sparrows to popcorn at Disney World. She had overheard his conversation with Deedee that morning. He went to meet the man-crazy girl for information. Nothing more. He’d made that clear. So now he was at the Sand Dollar with Deedee.

  Casey trusted Aidan.

  She would stay right here until he came home.

  Wait!

  Wait just one minute!

  She might trust Aidan, but she damn sure didn’t trust Deedee Bartow.

  Casey started for the stairs and stopped at the landing. What was she doing? Sneak out part deux, where she goes peeping tom on Aidan?

  Nothin’ doing.

  No, not sneak out just to peep. She would go for it.

  No more waiting around on Aidan. She would march down to the Sand Dollar and collect her boyfriend.

  She hustled down the stairs, called “Going out,” to Frank, and slipped out the back door before he could ask any questions. She jogged down Third Street and over to Ocean Boulevard, pausing to catch her breath in case she ran into one of the town gossips. Which was nearly everybody.

  Turning the corner, she stopped under the same tree she had days earlier and felt asinine for being this childish all over again. She turned for home and saw Aidan and Deedee leave the restaurant and head toward her car.

  The two stood there talking for a few minutes, and Casey’s unease began to slide. She had been foolish. Again.

  Aidan was only here for information. She smiled.

  And watched Deedee leap into Aidan’s arms and wrap her legs around his waist.

  One brief thought occurred to Casey while she stood paralyzed and watched Deedee stick her tongue down Aidan’s throat.

  Maybe kissing Deedee turned Aidan’s brain to mush too.

  The awful thought was short-lived, bludgeoned by Casey’s righteous anger. She could only see red. Yes, Aidan was leaving. She started forward, stalking with purpose toward the couple wrapped together like one. Yes, she loved Aidan, but she couldn’t keep him. Nor could she keep every woman in the world away from him either, but she owed him. He had given her back her confidence. Made her feel beautiful. Made her feel like she could compete with other women instead of turning tail to hide.

  For a brief time, he had made her feel like Cinderella at the ball with the handsome prince dancing attendance, and she would never ever forget that feeling.

  As long as he was in Cypress Key—however short that time was—he belonged to her. Damned if she would step aside now and let Deedee have him.

  “Excuse me!” she said loudly when she was still a few yards away. “Get off my boyfriend.”

  Aidan practically tossed Deedee off him, forcing her to scramble to maintain her balance.

  “Casey,” he wheezed, out of breath, and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

  Like that would make the kiss disappear?

  “This is your errand?”

  “Errand!” Deedee squeaked indignantly and glared at Aidan.

  “That’s what he told me. He had an errand.” Casey couldn’t believe she was remaining so calm.

  “Well if he’s your boyfriend, why is he out with me?” Deedee asked smugly.

  “Good question,” Casey said. “But he’s my boyfriend, not yours, so say good night, Deedee.”

  Aidan brightened considerably and turned his crooked, sexy smile on Casey. “I’m your boyfriend?”

  “Ohhh!” Deedee huffed. With a last glare for Aidan, she climbed into her sportscar, and screeched tires all the way out of the parking lot.

  “I’m your boyfriend?” Aidan asked again.

  “Apparently,” Casey said. “I’ll see you at home.” She turned on her heel.

  “I’ll give you a ride,” Aidan called hopefully.

  “No thanks. Stay here and ponder your errand.”

  Chapter 23

  Aidan would almost rather Casey scream and yell or take a swing at him. Her avoidance was killing him. He’d tailed her home from the Sand Dollar in Frank’s truck, needing to be sure she was safe. She never tossed him a backward glance, not even at the house. She hustled up the stairs to the family level before he had Frank’s truck parked and made it in the back door.

  No way was he going to go whine to Frank. No wonder his neck had prickled dangerously before Deedee jumped him in the parking lot. Casey had a ringside seat for the show. But surely she saw Aidan work to get free.

  He groaned inwardly. She would only see the position he’d managed to place himself in with Deedee.

  The one bright spot? Casey ordering Deedee to get off her boyfriend. Casey had publicly claimed him, and that brought an immediate smile to his face. A smile still there the next morning when Frank informed him, as he handed Aidan his plate of bacon and eggs, that Casey had left before dawn, leaving her uncle—not Aidan—a note on the kitchen table that said she had an errand.

  A slam at him no doubt for the message he’d sent last night—through her uncle—about Aidan having an errand.

  Frank hadn’t appreciated being the delivery boy for either message, which he told Aidan who drove him to the course that morning. “No more messages,” he’d said tersely. “Deliver them yourself.”

  “I will,” Aidan had promised, “but do you know where Casey went? And why would she leave on the busy festival weekend?”

  “I guess you’ll have to ask her.” Frank eye
d him. “Maybe something was bugging her, and she needed to get away.”

  That shut Aidan up. No more questions. Of Frank, anyway.

  When he pulled the truck up at the pro shop, Frank started to climb out and paused. “Casey’s note said she went to Gainesville.”

  Gainesville? Why Gainesville? he wondered. Frank read his expression.

  “I hope she’s looking into grad school or has an interview. She’ll need something new, period.” He gave Aidan a hard stare. “For when you take off.”

  That had left Aidan feeling hopeful for Casey’s future—she could be a brilliant golf course architect—and six kinds of guilty over Frank’s indirect accusation.

  He couldn’t tell Frank he wouldn’t leave. He would. But he’d be back. No, he couldn’t say that either and blow his cover now when he felt so close to nailing Bartow. Mad as Deedee was when she hightailed it out of the Sand Dollar lot, she had still come through with the promised texts an hour later.

  Aidan had called Shaun as soon as he got back to his place at Frank’s and left a voicemail about the Velascos, then forwarded the email Deedee had sent with the screenshots of the incriminating vendor emails. When her texts came through—the pictures she’d taken of her father’s loans and partnership contracts—he had forwarded those to Shaun as well. So why hadn’t he called? Shaun always kept him up to date on every nuance of his investigation.

  Not like Aidan didn’t have enough to worry about. He’d spent all day watching for Casey. In the marina, even knowing she was unlikely to show there, and at the course later, when he went to help Frank after his last boat tour. He could hardly get through town for all the tourists milling about the streets, wandering in and out of the tents stuck up wherever there was an open space or vacant lot. The whole town had a festival atmosphere, and Casey was missing it all. She had said she loved festival weekend even if Bartow practically owned the whole event.

  By late afternoon, Aidan was good and worried. He went to find her uncle who seemed unconcerned.

  “What if something happened to her?” Aidan prodded.

  “She’s fine,” Frank said and calmly checked the oil level on his greens mower.

  “But how do you know?”

  “When she goes off to Gainesville, she gets caught up in the college atmosphere, likes to wander around there and check things out.”

  “But maybe she didn’t this time,” Aidan argued. “Maybe something happened or she had an accident.”

  “She didn’t. She called me a couple hours ago and said she’d be late.”

  Aidan considered throwing one of the empty gas cans at Frank for letting him rant and rave about being worried when Frank knew all along she was fine.

  Casey arrived home late just as she’d told her uncle she would. Aidan, who couldn’t sleep, heard her climb the little-used outside verandah stairs to reach the family level.

  That hurt. She had to know he’d be worried.

  It also meant he had a bigger problem than he realized. A week ago, Casey would have fought with him, and he would have convinced her all was well. Last night she’d called him her boyfriend, claimed him, and then baled.

  What the hell did that mean?

  ~ ~ ~

  Casey had given Aidan the slip, staying in her room until she heard the Jeep start up as he left for the marina and his eight o’clock boat tour. She wasn’t ready for the questions she knew he would ask. He could never let things remain unsettled between them. He always had to fix them right away. The guy had to fix everything right away.

  Some things just couldn’t be fixed.

  She didn’t give her uncle the slip however since she had to drive him to the golf course. He waited in the kitchen for her when she came for coffee.

  “I never took you for a chicken,” Frank greeted her. “And I don’t like having to cover for you.”

  “Sorry, Uncle Frank.” He looked disappointed in her, and she hated that look. Hadn’t seen it very often growing up.

  “Mind telling me what you were doing in Gainesville all day and into the evening? Seeing as how you left me, us, shorthanded during festival week.”

  “I had a lot of thinking to do.”

  “And you couldn’t do it next week when the crowds are all gone?”

  “Next week might be too late.”

  Frank sighed. “And you couldn’t think right here?”

  He would grill her until she caved. He stared, waiting her out. She held her ground long enough she hoped he’d go warm up the truck. No such luck.

  She caved and exhaled hard. “Aidan’s leaving soon.”

  “Ahh.” Frank strung his reply out for three interminable syllables.

  “No, not ahhh,” she mimicked his multi-syllable reply with sarcasm. “I knew he wasn’t staying when he arrived.”

  “But you hoped.”

  “No! Maybe. But inside, I knew.”

  “People can always change their mind, sweetheart.”

  “I know that too,” she admitted. “But he won’t.”

  “Is this about him being with Deedee Bartow night before last?”

  “Did he tell you that?’ she asked, horrified.

  “No, but half the town called me and did,” Frank said with a wry smile. “So, was that it?”

  “No,” Casey said firmly. And found she meant it. “He’s definitely leaving, but—”

  “But?”

  “I think he’s running away from something, and that’s why he keeps moving. I want him to run toward something.”

  “You.”

  Her head jerked up. “No! Aidan should be chasing his dream, not running away from it. He-He helped me these last couple weeks, and now I want to help him.”

  Uncle Frank thought Aidan being with Deedee had caused Casey’s sudden disappearance but that wasn’t true. Hearing Aidan claim he was definitely leaving had spurred her departure.

  How did she explain her feelings for Aidan to Frank? She hadn’t just lost her heart to Aidan. She had lost her soul to Aidan. He had restored her confidence in herself. He had healed the scars in her heart and made her feel worthy of any man’s love after three disastrous mistakes had left her feeling flawed and inferior.

  How do you repay someone for that? For making you feel good enough?

  Yes, Aidan was leaving. No, she couldn’t keep him or make him stay. But she had memories—and strength of heart—that would last forever. She desperately wanted to pay him back for that gift before he vanished, and the only way she knew how was to give him his dream.

  “Okay, what was so all fire important in Gainesville that you had to go there to help Aidan?” Frank was asking.

  Uh oh.

  “I, um, I didn’t go to Gainesville.”

  “You lied to me, young lady?”

  The disappointed look was back. She’d do anything never to see that look on her uncle’s face, but this couldn’t be helped.

  “Yessir. I went to Ocala, Florida.”

  “And what pray tell was in Ocala, Florida?”

  “The Foxwood Golf and Country Club.”

  Frank stared, confused.

  “I, uh, I signed Aidan up for the U.S. Open Qualifier there next week.”

  “Oh, good Lord,” he wheezed.

  “He’s good enough.”

  “He is, but—”

  “And he’s always dreamed of playing in the PGA.”

  “He told you that?” Frank asked, incredulous.

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  Frank frowned. “But did he actually say he still dreamed of playing in the PGA?”

  “Well no, but—”

  It was the look in Aidan’s eyes when he talked about finding his dream.

  Her uncle studied her, then
walked over and wrapped her in a hug. A hug she realized she desperately needed as the tears stung the backs of her eyelids. Uncle Frank had always known instinctively when to give comfort and when to leave her alone, to give her room to grow and make her own mistakes.

  “What now?” he asked when he finally let her go.

  She immediately missed the warmth and comfort of his safety. Ever since she had handed over her credit card and completed the qualifier application she had felt adrift. One question had been playing over and over in her head on a continuous circuit.

  Did I do the right thing?

  “I’m not sure.”

  That was why she’d driven through Clearwater before heading for home. She had stopped at all the golf courses where she had sent her resume for a golf course superintendent position, to remind herself of her own dream to design golf courses so she had something to cling to. Something to look forward to when Aidan abandoned her life.

  “I have a copy of the application.”

  Frank stiffened. “Did you give it to him? Did you tell him?”

  “No, I’m waiting for the right time.”

  “What did you do with the application?”

  “I stuck it in the glove compartment in the Jeep.”

  “You wouldn’t want to leave it lying around and have Aidan find it before you’re ready.”

  Frank was right. The timing on the delivery would be critical. The application was safe for now. There was no need for Aidan to look in the glove compartment for anything.

  “Let’s go,” Frank said suddenly. “We’re late for work. Mamie and Hot Rod will be wondering where we are.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Aidan had to steer the Jeep around four festival tents cluttering the marina parking lot when he parked near the tour boat entrance. The two closest tents were selling fresh shrimp and scallops and had coolers of the seafood on ice stacked inside. Of the other two tents, one sold souvenir hats and tee shirts, and the other offered soft drinks, homemade pretzels, and cinnamon-coated roasted almonds. Their mouth-watering aroma warred with the fishy smells coming from the neighboring tents.