Flirting with Forever

by Jennifer Bernard

  “Yes, that’s why I called. Should we let Ian know that the Desperado is MIA? Can you reach him? I don’t have his number.”

  Chrissie closed her eyes, cursing herself for being an idiot and letting him head into the storm. “He was just here, but he’s gone now.”

  “I hope he’s not out in the storm.”

  “Hopefully he’s in his car by now. That Mercedes is like a tank. We had a…fight.”

  “Girl…whatever you fought about, it doesn’t matter right now. You have to make sure he’s safe.”

  “I will.” She put her phone on speaker and hurried to gather up her gear. “I’m going to go after him. You’re on speaker if you want to keep talking.”

  “I do. I’m so anxious I keep pacing around Tris’s house like a cat. I might wear out his floor. What did you fight about? Distract me.”

  “I don’t know, exactly. I mean…I do know. He…well, he told me he loved me but more or less insulted me at the same time.” She blew out a hurricane lamp sitting on the floor.

  Toni’s laugh rasped from the iPhone’s speaker. “Sounds on-brand for Dr. Ian Finnegan.”

  Chrissie bristled. “What on earth do you mean? Dr. Ian Finnegan is a prince. Don’t say his name with that snarky little edge in your voice.”

  “Hey, hey, don’t get all defensive. I only meant that he doesn’t always know how to communicate things. Isn’t that the whole reason you were giving him flirting lessons?”

  “Yes, but…that’s different.” She pulled on her parka and zipped it up. Then came her knit hat, and her headlamp over that. She tightened the band so it wouldn’t get blown right off her head.

  “How’s it different?”

  “Because…” Chrissie jammed one foot into a boot, then the other. “If someone tells you they love you, they shouldn’t add on something about how you’re not really worthy of it.”

  “Okay. Yeah. I can see that. He hurt your feelings.”

  “That makes it sound childish. Am I being childish?” She yanked the Velcro fastenings of her boots shut. “Tell me the truth. You always do anyway.”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t there. I don’t even think that’s the point.”

  “What’s the point then? Say it quick because I’m about to head into the storm and this might be your last chance.” She headed for the last hurricane lantern, the one hanging from the wall fitting.

  “Don’t say that,” Toni said at the exact moment Chrissie added, “Sorry. Not funny.”

  “The point is, how much are you legitimately pissed at him, and how much are you using it as an excuse to push him away?”

  Chrissie stopped in her tracks and stared at her phone. “Holy jeebus, Toni. You really know how to drop a truth bomb.”

  “Sorry. Too much?”

  “No. Damn. You think that’s what I do? I push people away on purpose?” She turned the knob on the lantern and extinguished the flame. The dark surrounded her until she switched on her headlamp. She picked her way across the floor toward the door.

  “Do you remember how we became friends, Chrysanthemum Yates?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “Your mom brought you to the boardwalk for ice cream and I was there eating a pink bubblegum cone. We were like, seven, maybe. She started talking to Trixie’s mom and I asked you if you wanted to see a dead jellyfish on the beach. We ran down to look at it and you asked if we could be friends. I said I would if you gave me your ice cream. You handed it over without a second thought. Boom. I kind of grumbled because I didn’t think I needed any more friends. But you just kept showing up and being this bright, joyful, fun little kid. You brought me presents that you made out of seashells or random electrical parts, or I don’t even know what. You had the biggest heart in the world. You never pushed people away. Your heart was always wide open. Always.”

  Chrissie became aware that tears were slowly dripping down her face. “I guess I’ve really changed.”

  “You’ve had your heart broken. I know the signs. At the Olde Salt, I see it all the time.”

  “It’s true. I have. I’ve left out a few things in the catch-up department.”

  “I get it, I get it. You’re a tough chick now. But I don’t think you’ve changed in your core. Trust me, I’m a bartender. I know these things.”

  Chrissie managed a laugh through her aching heart. “Thanks, Toni. You’re a true friend, you really are. Hey.”

  A sudden thought grabbed her imagination, and she spoke it before it could disappear. “Have you ever thought about leaving the Olde Salt and starting your own business, say, with a partner?”

  “What?”

  “I have some ideas. I want to talk to you about them.”

  “Now?”

  “No, now is probably not the best time, come to think of it.”

  “Chrissie, you take the cake, I swear.” Toni was sounding much more cheerful than before. At least Chrissie had managed to distract her for a moment. “I want to hear all about it later.”

  “Good. I gotta go now. I need to find Ian and get him his phone.”

  “You go. But ping me as soon as you find him.”

  “I will,” Chrissie promised. She ended the call and shoved both her phone and Ian’s deep in the pocket of her parka. One last check of her gear—boots fastened, scarf tucked in, headlamp secure—then it was time to tackle the door.

  She could barely shove it open. The wind instantly dried the tears on her cheeks, and replaced them with flying snow crystals. The steps leading to the path weren’t even visible, so much snow had piled up. The lower three feet or so of the lighthouse was coated in a new layer of white.

  The only saving grace was that she could still make out Ian’s footsteps, even though they were already blurred by more wind-whipped snow. She followed his tracks, putting her feet where his had been, each step a valiant effort to stay upright.

  Once she reached the path and turned toward the house, she was no longer facing into the wind. Instead, it blasted her from the side. She nearly lost her balance a few times when more powerful gusts buffeted her body. In the wild darkness, she focused on the beam of her headlamp. One step, then another. She had no room to think about anything else.

  But one thought occurred to her—she was lucky that Ian had blazed this path for her. And he’d done it in virgin snow, without the knowledge of the terrain that she possessed. She could picture him focussing his entire mighty brain on the task. Each of his steps carefully placed, the most logical choice to bring him to safety. He was brilliantly smart, extensively kind, unexpectedly funny, reliably trustworthy, and mind-blowing in the bedroom.

  Why in the world would she want to push a man like that away?

  Chrissie wasn’t an idiot. She was generally considered to be smart herself. Why would she send a hot doctor that she cared about into the storm?

  Smart about some things, she reminded herself. Not so much when picking life partners. Not so much when understanding her own messes.

  A thought whispered to her like the wind howling across the snowfield between the lighthouse and the main house. I have real feelings for Ian.

  If she didn’t care about him, she wouldn’t have been so stung by his dismissive “in spite of” comment. It would have bounced right off her patented protective emotional shielding. The fact that it had wounded her so sharply—what did that tell her?

  That he was important to her. Why bother to push someone away who meant nothing? It would be a waste of energy.

  But if she had real feelings for him…what exactly were they? Was it more than lust? More than friendship? Would she get a chance to figure it out or had she already ruined everything?

  Ahead of her, she caught sight of a snow-blurred glow penetrating through the darkness. Someone was up there with lights on. But it wasn’t the house, it was too low to the ground. A vehicle, then.

  Yup, it was definitely a car’s headlights beaming into the blizzard. The Mercedes? Was it Ian, warming up his car or waiting for things to calm
down enough to drive?

  Out of breath from her slog through the snow, she trudged the last few yards to the car, which was indeed the beige Mercedes, glowing like an oasis in a snow desert.

  She knocked on the window, saw his head swivel inside, then unlatched the handle. “You okay?” she called into the car. The wind snatched the breath out of her.

  He answered something that she couldn’t make out, and decided to assume he’d said, “get in.”

  She edged past the door and collapsed into the passenger seat. The door shut behind her. Ian watched her with raised eyebrows. He’d taken off his hat and had the heat on blast.

  “You did say ‘get in,’ didn’t you?”

  “I said ‘fine.’ But that’s okay. You can get in. Which you already are.”

  Uh oh. He didn’t sound very happy to see her. “I found your phone. But it’s dead. The battery might have gotten jarred.” She handed it over to him. “You can try charging it.”

  “Thank you.” He plugged it into his cigarette lighter charger. “That’s why you came out here?”

  “It’s one reason. It’s not a safe time to be without a phone.” Now that she was here in the car with him, she felt jumpy as a flea. She wanted to say something to him, because her pulse was doing wild things. The solid bulk of his body, the comfort of his presence, even the shape of his mouth turned her heart into a bouncing ball.

  But that wasn’t the most important point right now.

  “I got a call from Toni. She’s worried because no one’s heard from the Desperado. Have you had any communication from Bo in the past couple of days?”

  His body went rigid with tension. “No, but that’s nothing unusual. I’ve only talked to him twice since they left the harbor. Is the boat missing?”

  She put a comforting hand on his arm and found it tight as steel.

  “There’s no need to worry too much yet. The Coast Guard ordered all the fishing boats to take shelter. People were expecting the Desperado to show up in Dutch Harbor but they haven’t. But they could simply be somewhere else, a protected cove or another harbor.”

  “But you said no one’s heard anything.”

  “Correct. At least, that’s what Toni just told me, and she’s been in contact with Lucas Holt. Things may have changed by now.”

  His phone came back on and immediately dinged. He pounced on it. “It’s from Elinor. Nothing from Bo or Lucas.”

  They stared at each other for a moment, fear gathering like shadows in the corners.

  “This is my fault. Oh God. I need to let Elinor know that Bo’s missing.”

  Through the fear pounding in his veins Chrissie’s touch felt like an anchor. It shouldn’t, he knew. He and Chrissie were…nowhere. Nevertheless, it did.

  “You do, of course,” she said. “But maybe not just yet. We don’t know what’s going on. I was going to suggest that we go to Toni’s. She’s staying on top of everything and she’s more plugged in than anyone.”

  “It’s the middle of the night.” He looked wildly out the window into the storm. “Actually I’m not sure what time it is. This might be the first time in my life that I don’t know the time. My car clock is broken. I think Bo did something to it.”

  He was rambling now. Never had he felt quite this disoriented. Marching through a snowstorm in the dark, losing his phone, telling Chrissie that he loved her and having that blow up in his face—he might as well be whirling around in the air like a snow flurry.

  Chrissie’s voice brought him back to attention. “It’s only midnight. Toni’s a night owl, and there’s no way she’s sleeping tonight anyway. She’s staying at Tristan’s because her shack wasn’t safe. She already told me to come and keep her company, and I’m sure she’d love you to come too. She’s worried about Bo as well.”

  Confused, he looked over at her. Hadn’t she sent him on his way a short time ago? He had no idea how long it had taken him to carve a path through the snowdrifts all the way to his car. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting there reliving everything that had been said in the lighthouse.

  He’d deconstructed every word. Where had he gone so wrong? Why had he stated things in such a boneheaded way? Of what use was a degree in neurosurgery when you couldn’t manage to tell a woman you loved her without screwing it up?

  “Okay,” he finally said. “Let’s do that.” The car was already warmed up, so he just had to put it into gear and hope he could find the road.

  “I’m just going to run in and get Shuri. Stay right where you are. I’ll be back.” She climbed out of the car and ran through the blowing snow.

  As if he would drive off without her. Even though he was still reeling from their conversation in the lighthouse, he’d never abandon her. She ought to know that. When she got back, he needed to make it clear that he still cared for her. He wasn’t a boy; he could handle her rejection.

  The back door opened and Shuri hopped in. Good thing he’d given up caring about his car upholstery. Chrissie plopped back into the passenger seat and buckled in. “Whew. I found her hiding under the kitchen sink. Her first Lost Harbor storm. Quite an experience, huh, Shuri?”

  Ian eased the Mercedes into reverse, trying to stay in the tire tracks he’d left earlier. “Chrissie, about earlier—”

  She held up a hand. “Let’s focus on getting to Toni’s for now, okay?”

  His heart sank into his stomach. When she’d appeared at the Mercedes window, he’d hoped that something had changed. Maybe Chrissie had come to understand that he hadn’t meant to insult her.

  Apparently not.

  Fair enough. He could compartmentalize when he had to. He’d simply block out Chrissie’s familiar scent and the sound of her voice and the side glimpses of her profile, not to mention the taste of her still lingering in his memory.

  Instead he’d think about the hazardous drive he was about to undertake.

  That shouldn’t be a problem. Ian Finnegan was all about focus, after all. No problem at all.

  Thirty-Five

  By the time they reached Tristan’s house—a sturdy cedar structure that seemed to be mostly windows—word had gotten out that the Desperado was missing. A small crowd milled around, sharing greetings and hot coffee and stories. They took off their coats and added them to the pile just inside the door.

  In the front room, Ian recognized some of the fishermen he’d seen at the Olde Salt, although Old Crow wasn’t one of them. He overheard scraps of stories being told—shipwrecks and close encounters with whales and hundred-foot swells.

  He didn’t want to hear that, so he veered into the next room, a cozy breakfast nook. In this one, a group of worried-looking women gathered around a twenty-something brunette with a neck tattoo of a serpent. She couldn’t stop crying, no matter how much they tried to console her.

  He and Chrissie exchanged a glance. All of this felt so much more real now. During the drive, they’d barely said a word other than, “Do you see that rock?” and “Turn right up ahead.”

  Toni came to greet them with a hug, then knelt down to cuddle Shuri, as if she drew comfort from the gentle yellow lab. Then she tugged them into the kitchen where Maya Badger was pouring out coffee at a kitchen island. Alongside her was an elderly man with graying hair. He was talking on the phone, and Maya shushed them as they came through the door.

  “My dad’s on the phone with an old Coast Guard buddy,” she whispered to them. “Working the back channels.” She handed them both mugs of coffee and waved them toward the milk and sugar set out on the counter.

  So that was Harris Badger. Ian had been called in to consult on his case last year, after he’d suffered a heart attack, but hadn’t met him in person. He remembered exactly what his brain looked like, however.

  Harris offered them a kindly smile, then stepped away with a signal to go ahead and talk.

  Toni turned to Maya. “Any information so far?”

  “They say the winds are down to thirty miles per hour, but seas are still forty foot. At leas
t one fatality so far from this storm. The nearest cutter’s at least half a day away. They’re considering launching a search and rescue helicopter at first light.”

  “First light? But that’s hours away,” said Chrissie.

  “I know. My dad is putting on some pressure. I can see their point, though. Right now we don’t know anything, and the conditions are hella dangerous.”

  Chrissie gave a tight nod. One of Ian’s hands felt cold, and the other warm; he realized that she was still holding his hand.

  “How are you doing, Ian?” Toni asked him as she poured some water into a dish for Shuri.

  “Numb at the moment. Helpless. I wish I could do something. Is there anything we can do?” If Bo was missing in the woods, he’d be out doing a quadrant-by-quadrant search. But missing in the ocean? He was at a loss, and that was a terrible feeling.

  She squeezed his arm. “Aside from alerting the Coast Guard, not really. If they were closer to Misty Bay, some of our boats would go out looking. You can pray, send good thoughts, keep the faith. This is Tristan, after all. He’s survived some pretty gnarly situations.”

  “He has,” Chrissie chimed in. “Most of them his own fault, but that’s beside the point.”

  Toni shook her head at her. “That was when he was younger. He’s a lot more responsible now.”

  “Of course.” Chrissie squeezed his hand. “He’s a great captain. That’s why…”

  She kept talking, but he stopped listening, as if his brain had switched off.

  It was all too much. Revealing his feelings to Chrissie. Having her reject him. The white-knuckle drive to this house. And now the reality sinking in. Bo was missing at sea. His favorite nephew, his godson, the one he’d always stood up for, the one who looked up to him, the only one who could get away with teasing him, the boy who’d always marched to the beat of his own drummer—Bo was missing.

  Even though he made none of those roiling emotions visible, Chrissie must have picked up on them. “Toni, is there a quieter place somewhere in this house?”