Flirting with Forever

by Jennifer Bernard

  Oh yes. That kiss had taken up a permanent spot in his cerebral cortex. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  “Maybe your instincts are telling you something different than what your brain is saying. Maybe you should pay attention.”

  “All right, I see your point. But she’s the one holding me at arm’s length.”

  “Mix it up. Try something different. Start fresh. With a dinner invitation, maybe. Or something romantic and unexpected.”

  Romantic and unexpected? “Bethany, have you forgotten who you’re talking to? I’m not…Fabio. I’m a neurosurgeon with a touch of OCD.” He heard the panic in his own voice.

  With a sympathetic laugh, she squeezed his upper arm. “That’ll make it all the more endearing. Look, I know it’s hard stepping out of your comfort zone. But that’s where all the magic happens.”

  “And if she says no?”

  “Then I’ll buy you a hot chocolate. Or you can come to our house and commiserate with Nate. Did you know he pretended to be my boyfriend before we got together? I can invite Darius. He and Kate had lots of ups and downs too. And Gretel and Zander…” She shook her head. “Believe me, every happy couple has their crazy stories.”

  With that, she hurried off, before he could explain that he and Chrissie weren’t a “couple,” let alone a “happy” one, and that he wished people wouldn’t use the word “crazy” in such an inaccurate way. So many neurological issues manifested symptoms that falsely inspired the description “crazy.”

  But that was a pet peeve for another day.

  Should he ask Chrissie on a date?

  Did he want to get romantically involved with her? When he’d first met her, he never would have contemplated such a thing. But now…

  As he headed for his office to call Old Crow, he turned that question over in his mind. And the answer that kept coming up was “yes.”

  Despite his better judgment. Despite all logic. Yes, he did want to see her again, in a dating type of way. Most of all, he wanted to kiss her again.

  If so, what sort of invitation would appeal to her the most? He knew all the normal dating rituals, obviously. He could invite her to dinner or a movie. Lost Harbor had a quaint old movie theater that booked second-run movies.

  Should he bring her flowers? A gift? What did Chrissie need the most? What would she be most grateful for?

  This was it. Time to put all of Chrissie’s flirtation instructions—pay attention, learn the flirtee’s quirks, satisfy the flirtee’s needs—to use.

  Twenty-One

  “Are you trying to steal my dog’s affection?” Chrissie asked Ian.

  He was driving her—in his Mercedes this time—in the direction of Yatesville. Shuri was in the backseat, enjoying the brand-new chew toy Ian had brought for her. It was shaped like a helicopter. Chrissie had no idea where Ian had found it, but it was perfect. “Because I won’t let her go without a fight.”

  Ian’s eyebrows drew together in a perplexed frown. ”I’m not trying to come between you and Shuri, I promise.”

  Ever since she’d accepted his invitation to a “surprise,” he’d sounded nervous. And then he’d presented Shuri with that gift, and her heart had just about melted.

  Chrissie turned all the way around so she could feast her eyes on Shuri’s blissful communion with the chew toy. “Do you think any human can love anything as much as a dog loves a silly toy?”

  “That’s a good question. Should I answer it as a neurologist? Because dogs’ brains are constructed differently.”

  Chrissie stroked Shuri’s fur, but her dog barely noticed, she was so caught up with the helicopter. “It was more of a rhetorical question. I’m pretty sure the answer is no, speaking as an adult woman who’s seen her share of heartbreak.”

  She turned around and settled back in her seat. Ian turned down the gravel road to Yatesville. She’d been back a few times since that first momentous visit, and each time it had gotten easier. The last time, she’d borrowed a truck and taken a load of junk to the dump. It had felt good, moving energy around like that.

  This time, her stomach only clenched a tiny bit. Who knows, maybe the time would come when a visit to her childhood home wouldn’t make her at all queasy.

  “I heard that Bo’s an official Desperado crew member. Is he excited for their first trip?”

  “Oh yes. He’s leaving tomorrow. He’s been wearing those oilskins in the shower to break them in. It’s not working.”

  She giggled at the thought. “He’s going to have an incredible adventure. How’d you get your sister to agree?”

  “It was difficult. She was a firm ‘hell no’ when the conversation started. But I know how Elinor’s mind works. She lets her fears control her. I listed off all the things he’d be safe from on the boat—drugs, serial killers, that sort of thing—and by the end she agreed that the Desperado might be the best place for him. He’ll be under constant supervision with limited opportunities for breaking his neck on a skateboard or a waxed Frisbee.”

  “That’s,” she shook her head, marveling, “kind of twisted, actually.”

  “I know. I didn’t like it, but I promised Bo that I’d stand up for him. I tried to point out that he’s nineteen and can make his own decisions, but that wasn’t going anywhere. I had to dig deeper.”

  “Well, good for you. I hope Bo’s grateful to you.”

  “He is. He called me his champion. I was touched.”

  She eyed him as he focused on the road ahead. There was something on his mind. At first she’d thought he was asking her out, which would be an automatic no. But he hadn’t framed it as a “date.” He’d used the word “surprise.”

  Even so, a noticeable spark had lit between them at the first moment he’d picked her up. That meant all her distancing efforts had failed, and as soon as she was in close quarters with him, the same attraction sprang to life.

  “What is this all about?” she asked abruptly.

  “I told you, it’s a surprise. Are you always like this with surprises?”

  “Impatient and suspicious? I suppose so.”

  One corner of his mouth pulled up in a smile. “You know what I like about you? I never know how you’re going to react to something.”

  “Okay, how do you react to surprises?”

  “It depends on the context.” He shifted his hands on the high-end leather of the steering wheel. “In my personal life, I try to limit them. But in my professional life, patients frequently surprise me. It’s part of the work and I’ve come to terms with that.”

  “You know what I like about you?” Amused, she repeated his own question back at him. “You answer questions very thoroughly.”

  They reached her grandfather’s house, and he brought the Mercedes to a stop, its wheels crunching over the icy gravel. About a quarter of an inch of new snow had fallen since she’d last been here, making everything look as if it had just gotten a fresh coat of paint. Another car was already parked near the house—a white Volvo. That was odd; she hadn’t given anyone permission to be here.

  But before she addressed that issue, she had to tackle another one.

  “Ian, this is just a…surprise, right? Not a date?”

  He turned to face her, his dark eyes cautious. His five o’clock shadow was already coming in. It made his cheekbones stand out even more than usual. Her skin prickled with awareness of his nearness.

  “I should have been more specific when I invited you,” he said. “I was thinking of it as a date, though a nontraditional one because you’re a nontraditional person. That’s why I brought you a gift. I considered flowers, but something for Shuri seemed more likely to please you.”

  A thrill shot through her. He’d really thought this through—except for the communication part of it.

  “It is true that I’m allergic to baby’s breath, which seems to pop up in every bouquet ever made. But Ian, I wish you’d said something because—”

  His face closed up. “It’s all right. I should have been more
clear. We don’t have to think of it as a date. It doesn’t have to be.”

  “No. No. It’s just—”

  This was all her fault. She’d given in to her impulse to kiss him, and this was the result. Of course he’d followed up on it. He was Ian. One step led logically to the next.

  For days she’d been avoiding him, but now that she was here with him, she was actually happy about it. She wanted to be on a date with Ian. Figure that one out.

  She gave him the sweetest smile in her repertoire. “It’s just that I would have worn something cuter if I’d known this was a date.”

  His gaze dropped down her body. She was wearing thick woolen leggings and Sorel snow boots, and her winter jacket had a patch of duct tape on one elbow. “You look cute to me.”

  “Thank you, but not date cute.”

  “It’s a nontraditional date. Or perhaps a former date, since we just demoted it.”

  She laughed and leaned across the seat to kiss him on the cheek. His stubble made her mouth tingle. “Let’s un-demote it.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. But I did plan something special that I hope you’re going to like.” His eyes gleamed dark green against the snowy backdrop outside the Mercedes’ window. “Are you ready?”

  “Do we have to leave the car? This is kind of nice, right here.”

  His eyes flared, and a pulse of heat traveled through her veins. But the white Volvo was waiting for them, after all.

  “Come on, let’s go.” He swung out of the car and hurried around to open her door—a gentlemanly move that seemed out of place on this rugged property where she’d grown up hammering nails and rewiring generators.

  But she appreciated the thought.

  As they approached the Volvo, a broadly smiling man emerged from it. He wore a business suit with no tie, which was about as well-dressed as people got around here. Under his blazer, he wore a wine-colored turtleneck.

  “Chrissie Yates? I’m Jeff Starling, licensed Realtor. When Dr. Finnegan mentioned this place might be for sale, I just about lost my mind. He said you hadn’t decided yet, but I just want you to know that I am here for you. If you choose to work with me, I’ll get you the best possible price, I’ll write you a contract that gives you everything you want and a few things you never even thought about. I already have some fabulous ideas for how we can market it, and I’m just so so thrilled to get a chance to meet you.”

  His overflow of words made her a little dizzy. She leaned to the left so Ian’s solid body could prop her up. This man wanted to help sell Yatesville? A real estate agent, after she couldn’t get anyone to return her calls?

  “Um…I don’t…I’m not sure I’m…” She turned to Ian. “Ian, how do you even know…”

  “I’m one of his patients,” Jeff Starling said quickly. “And also the best Realtor on the peninsula and it isn’t even close. You can ask anyone. But without Ian I’d still be having seizures—long story, maybe over a bottle of wine sometime—so for his sake, I’m happy to cut my commission in half. I’m also an aficionado of local history. My great-grandmother was the first postmistress in town. She was also one of the bush pilots who flew supply runs before there was a road. Quite a woman. My family goes way back. It’s not boasting if I say that I’m someone you want in your corner. Is it boasting? I don’t know and I don’t care. The truth is the truth.” He radiated confidence from every well-moisturized pore. How did he do it? Everyone else in town had wind-chapped winter skin by this point.

  She looked again at Ian.

  “I know Jeff well,” he murmured. “I wanted you to have the best possible help for when you put Yatesville on the market.”

  “And I totally understand that you’re still considering your options,” Jeff added quickly. “Which you should absolutely do. But maybe what I can do today is help you explore some of those options.”

  He waved his arm in the direction of the small promontory where the old lighthouse sat, out of sight from up here. “For instance, that’s a magical piece of history down there. Did you know that when that lighthouse was first built, it was kind of a lovers’ lane hideout? Young people would sneak in and neck, or whatever they used to call it.”

  “Really? I’d never heard that.”

  “My grandmother told me the stories. My grandfather proposed to her there. After he impregnated her there,” he added impishly. “My granny wasn’t shy. She was the first in my family to tell me I was probably gay and that I shouldn’t worry about it.”

  Okay then. She liked this guy already. She glanced at Ian, who was listening attentively to Jeff’s tales—which might be considered oversharing, except that he already had history with Ian.

  “Listen, Jeff. Can we make an appointment for another time? I’m just not ready to think about all that yet. But if and when I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Of course. You got it. Honestly, I’ve been dying to drive out here and soak in the history, so I jumped all over Ian’s invitation. Might have gotten a little carried away. Here’s my card.” He handed her a business card, which had elegant gold-embossed font on a cream background—like some kind of Victorian calling card. “I know, I know, it’s so not Lost Harbor. But what can you expect? I’m here, I’m queer, and I can sell the pants off any other real estate agent in town. In some cases, literally,” he added thoughtfully.

  “I wouldn’t think of calling anyone else,” she assured him as they shook hands.

  Before Jeff got back into his car, he gave Ian a bear hug.

  Then he winked at Chrissie. “Indulging myself. Can you blame me?”

  “He’s very emotional,” Ian explained as Jeff drove away. “His seizures were interfering with his sales record. That’s a huge point of pride for him, as you can probably imagine…” He trailed off, looking nervous. “Didn’t you like him?”

  Twenty-Two

  She folded her arms across her chest, as if doing so might hold everything together. Meeting a real estate agent made her feel rushed, no matter how friendly he was.

  “He’s great. But…”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “But…”

  “I can handle my own business.”

  “You said you were having trouble finding a real estate agent.”

  That was logical enough. But she wasn’t feeling especially logical. Everything related to Yatesville brought up such a storm of confusing emotions. “Maybe I just wasn’t ready to find one. I’m not sure yet what I want to do.”

  Uneasiness crept into his expression. “Got it. But if you do decide to sell, you’ll need someone like Jeff, and he really is the best possible man for the job. I thought you’d hit it off with him. I introduced him to you to fill one of your needs.”

  Now it was all coming clear. “This was your idea for a ‘nontraditional’ date. You brought a chew toy for Shuri and an extremely enthusiastic real estate agent for me.”

  “Yes. I also brought you this.” He reached into the front pocket of his jacket and pulled out an outsized foil-wrapped Hershey’s Kiss. “It’s a kiss. Like the one you gave me, except it’s chocolate.”

  “I don’t like—”

  “It’s white chocolate. I know that’s the only kind you like.”

  She snapped her mouth shut. When had she mentioned that to him?

  “Jessica told me,” he admitted. “At the Sweet Harbor Bakery. By the way, she said to tell you she’s bringing back her white chocolate scones in your honor.”

  “Oh my God, those scones are amazing. Do you know I once hitchhiked all the way to town so I could have one? Unfortunately they were already gone by the time I got there, so Jessica made me a special batch. I think we were like, thirteen at the time.”

  Was she babbling? Of course she was; Ian had taken her by surprise. This entire “date” was so unexpectedly sweet and thoughtful. Even his choice of Realtor was spot-on. She couldn’t imagine working with anyone other than Jeff Starling at this point.

  She’d expected that kiss to
throw Ian off balance. She hadn’t imagined such a swift ninja-like recovery. He’d taken her flirtatious gesture and Jedi-mastered it back at her tenfold.

  Her hand closed around the foil gem. It was such a little thing, but then again, it was the little things that really counted in a flirtation. Grand gestures could feel so fake. With Ian Finnegan, nothing felt fake. He was always one hundred percent himself—slightly awkward, somewhat enigmatic, with more layers than an Italian pastry.

  And now she wanted to kiss him again.

  But that would not be wise. Instead, she resorted to teasing mode. “Well done, sir. I hereby proclaim that Dr. Ian Finnegan has attained the rank of black belt in the Flirtatious Arts.”

  His tension relaxed into a grin. “Is that the highest rank? I’m competitive and I always aim for the top.”

  “It’s not the highest, no. The highest would be the purple belt—purple for passion. You get that one when you lure your flirtee into bed.” She gave him a lighthearted wink as she took his hand. “But black is very good and it earns you a reward.”

  Neither of them wore gloves, so they were skin to skin. The contact felt so deliciously warm that she couldn’t help smiling. She checked on Shuri, who was fast asleep in the back seat, and decided to leave her there for now. “Follow me.”

  He didn’t argue as she led him across the property. Hand in hand, they trudged across the snowy field that sloped toward the shoreline. Much of the snow had melted, and what remained had crystalized into chunks of ice that crunched under their feet. In a few weeks this would all be mud and slush, and a lot harder to walk across.

  The walking was much easier once her feet found the hardpack of the path that would carry them to the lighthouse. It perched on a rocky rise that jutted into the bay, squat and white-washed with black trim. To her it had always looked like a lonely angular penguin gazing out at the ocean.

  “Is the reward inside the lighthouse?” Ian asked. The wind off the ocean brought color to his cheeks and a shine to his eyes. His wide shoulders were hunched against the chill.