Return to Eagle Cove

by M. L. Buchman

  “Is there a reason you called?”

  “I called?” Oh, right. She had called him. To…oh!... “Yes,” she tried to clear her throat and instead the hiccup she’d fought down before snuck back up. “I—”

  I what…?

  “I just wanted to tell you…” There had been a reason she’d felt the urgent need to call Greg right away. It was… “that we’re through.” Natalya and Becky gasped in surprise. “It’s been great fun, Greg. But enough is enough. Let’s not sp—” the hiccup finally escaped in a cliché-sized Hic! “—oil it. Great se—hex. Se-hex has been great. Was great. One of those things. Thanks. Bye.”

  She ended the call even as Greg shouted something in a panicked tone. Jessica looked around the bar top for something to celebrate with.

  The phone in her hand rang and vibrated almost making her drop it.

  Greg.

  She stared at the display through three rings until she could be sure that she was hitting the off button rather than the answer one. For good measure, she turned the phone off and dropped it on the bar. Then she found another tiny glass of she-couldn’t-tell-which beer. At least it wasn’t black and steaming.

  Jessica raised it in a toast to her friends, “Too free-he-dom!” Free-he-dom! Perfect! She’d drink to that.

  When it didn’t look like they were going to join in, she downed the beer in two swallows and thunked the glass back on the wooden bar top.

  “I forgot,” Becky studied her, “that you’re the stupid drunk of this crowd. I’m the happy one.”

  “Stupid?” Natalya was practically yelling. “Idiotic!” She’d always been the rational drunk—which really shouldn’t be allowed when drinking was going on.

  “Shush!” Jessica waved a hand for them both to calm down. “It makesh per-her-fect sense,” which was almost as good as Free-he-dom. “Though I will mi-hish that body. Did I tell you that Greg Sl-hate-ter has a wonderful body?”

  “We don’t want to hear it,” Natalya groaned.

  “Knows just what to do-hoo with it too.”

  “I’m going to call Greg back and you’re going to apologize.”

  “Don’t you dare!” Jessica clutched her shut-off phone to her chest and hoped that Natalya didn’t have his number.

  “I want to hear about his body,” Becky protested. “Give us all of the details. Now that you’ve dumped him and are in the no-guy zone with the rest of us, we should at least get some fun details.”

  Dumped him? Had she just dumped him…right, she had.

  It was all for the best.

  Too bad it felt like the worst. Which was fine. Everything else in her life was feeling that way too and now Greg fit right in.

  For lack of anywhere better to be, Greg had spent the evening and well into the night sitting quietly on the front porch of the half-filled Lamont B&B. As it was obvious over the phone that Jessica was drunk, or well on her way there, he’d scouted around town. But Jessica wasn’t at the Bobbin’ Red Robin Tavern or the Brass Plover Pub. He’d even checked to see if she’d decided to party on the afterdeck of her father’s fishing boat. Greg ignored the fear as he rushed there that she’d had too much, fallen overboard in the middle of their conversation, and been washed out with the tide, because that was just a little too psychotic even for him. The boat rested dark and quiet at dock.

  Natalya was also nowhere to be found which made him feel a little better. It was always better to go on a bender with a friend.

  Imagining Jessica drunk had passed some of the time. Was she a giggler? Hard to imagine. Thankfully, Jessica as a morose drunk was even harder to picture—though he’d met plenty of those back in his restaurant days; that type was practically epidemic in professional kitchens.

  He checked his watch. Two a.m. He had to get up in three hours to help the Judge with breakfast service, but he knew there was no sleep waiting for him if he gave up his vigil.

  There was an honesty to the occasional drunk that worried him. Chronic drunks were often chronic liars—first of all to themselves. But the occasional drunk would lose their inhibitions and say things they never should have said in the first place no matter how true they were—a problem Greg had thoroughly demonstrated a few times in high school. That was how Vincent knew about the true depths of Greg’s infatuation with Jessica Baxter.

  Well, he was stone cold sober—and fairly cold as well sitting out here on the porch all night, waiting for a crazy woman who had broken up with him over the phone.

  It couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t. He wouldn’t let it be. He’d never fought for a woman before, but this time he’d—

  A brightness filtered into the trees. He double-checked his watch, 2:03 (three whole minutes later than the last time he’d checked). So, it wasn’t sunrise.

  The light flickered and brightened: car headlights approaching from a distance, stray beams scattering through the trees. It took a curiously long time for the car to appear. When it finally did, he understood why. It was moving very slowly. Becky Billings’ van finally crunched to a stop on the gravel driveway close beside the front steps. Dumb! He’d never thought of going out to Becky’s brewery.

  Greg scrambled down the stairs.

  The passenger door opened and Natalya climbed out.

  Before he could do anything about it, Natalya stepped into his arms, gave him a very sound kiss, and then snuggled up against him.

  “Hmmm,” she let out a long hum of delight that he could feel rippling down her body. “Jess is right. You have a very nice body, Mr. Slater.” She squirmed more tightly against him and giggled. She was warm, soft, and clearly quite drunk.

  “Keep your voice down, lots of people are sleeping here. Uh, where’s Jessica?”

  “Spoilsport,” Natalya mumbled but didn’t move away.

  For lack of any better tactic, he scooped her up into his arms, her head never moving from his shoulder.

  Becky had climbed out of the driver’s side. “Has she passed out yet?” Her speech wasn’t exactly clear either which explained the painfully slow and careful driving.

  “Close enough,” Greg traded smiles with her. “Where’s the other one?”

  “She’s out cold,” Becky hooked a thumb toward the back of the van. “I’ll watch over her while you dump Natalya in bed.”

  Greg nodded and entered the B&B as quietly as he could. The main staircase was barely wide enough and each creak had him wincing, but by twisting sideways at the turns, he managed to carry Natalya up to her room. He lay her on the bed and pulled off only her shoes before covering her. Undressing a beautiful drunken woman was not going to be on the list of things he’d done this night and would have to explain in the morning.

  He went back down and circled to the rear of the van. Becky had the door open and a dome light revealed Jessica sprawled on a horse blanket. She wore a flirty summer dress, that had ridden very high up her legs.

  “She was very emphatic about us not calling you,” Becky cracked a smile that made him feel better than anything else had this evening. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Becky turned and sat on the edge of the van’s deck, facing the night.

  As there was no way to move the sleeping Jessica while Becky sat there, Greg turned and sat beside her, shoulder to shoulder. Actually, she was short enough that it was more his shoulder to her ear. They remained there a long time before Becky spoke.

  “She’s very fond of you, Greg.”

  “Great.” He’d prefer more than fond, but after all of his worries this night he’d take any tidbit he was offered.

  “More than that…”

  “Double great.”

  “…but she’s got some things going on. Not my place to say, not that she said all that much. Jess always did play her cards close. But you and I go back a ways and I want you to know that I’m rooting for you.”

  “You always were a good friend.” And she had been. He ran a hand down her back and kissed her atop the head. They’d da
ted for a few months when he’d first returned to Eagle Cove. It had been fun, but it hadn’t turned into anything serious. She’d become a good friend since, one he counted on for far more than her fine hand at brewing.

  “We talked a lot and some things are obvious—at least to Natalya and I if not to Jessica. So, I’m going to say this with the love I have for both of you: don’t let her slip away. She’s going to try very, very hard. Don’t let her, Greg.”

  “I won’t.” Not a chance. No one knew about the patience and tenacity necessary to achieve a goal like being a chef.

  Becky looked up at him.

  “What?”

  “I’ve had just enough to drink to say this. There are times I wish things had worked out between us. Even back three years ago you were something; you’re way better now. Don’t get all cocky, but don’t forget it either.” Then she pulled his head down and gave him a long, hard kiss. It was enough to remember all of the things that had been good between them without interfering with what was amazing between he and Jessica.

  There was a soft, “Hey!” from inside the van.

  He could feel Becky’s grin before she broke the kiss. “You said you dumped him and he’s fair game now,” she said to Jessica without releasing her arms from around his neck.

  “Oh. Right. Sure. Go ahead,” each word from Jessica slid closer and closer to a sleepy mumble.

  He and Becky both turned in time to see her once again collapse into sleep.

  “It’s a good thing that I love her so much, Greg Slater, or you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “Woman as good as you, maybe I wouldn’t want one.” And while he knew it wasn’t quite true for either of them, it would have been nice if it had been.

  She pecked him lightly on the lips before letting go, “Let’s get your girlfriend out of my van. What you do with her after that is up to you.”

  He held her in place a moment longer. “Whatever man you end up with Becky, if he forgets for a moment how lucky he is, just let me know. I’ll come over and pound some sense into his thick skull.”

  Becky giggled, “Very kind, Mr. Slater. And an absurdly male offer.”

  He shrugged; it probably was.

  “Besides, can you see me needing help to drive common sense into a man’s head?”

  “Nope, I bet you can handle that just fine, but my ‘absurdly male’ offer stands.” Then they stood and he scooped Jessica into his arms. Unlike Natalya who’d been all clingy, Jessica was as lively as a sack of potatoes.

  “Lucky you,” Becky whispered in her friend’s ear and then kissed her on the temple. “Shoo! I’ve got to get home to my cold and lonely bed.” And she was creeping the van out the driveway before Greg reached the porch.

  He was half tempted to carry Jessica back to his house; it was just the next one toward town on LBB Lane. At least there he could curl up against her for a few hours before he had to go to work. But that probably wasn’t the best choice. First, she’d probably wake alone while he was at work. Also, ultimately, he had to straighten out the fact that she’d broken up with him before he made any assumptions.

  Greg crept up the stairs and lay Jessica on the bed. He removed her shoes and did his best not to think about how cute she looked in the flowered summer dress by what moonlight was wandering in the window. Maybe she’d wear it for him to dinner one night and he could take it off her then. Actually, there were liberties he was willing to take with her for her comfort that he wasn’t willing to do for Natalya.

  He slipped off the dress, doing his best not to admire the body he was only starting to learn about. He could spend a lifetime exploring it and never be bored. Again, all she wore beneath the dress were panties—these were covered in cheery miniature sunflowers. He turned to dig in the dresser for a nightshirt, then thought better of it. The woman might be fussy about a man digging through her underthings.

  Then he had an idea. Greg peeled off his own t-shirt, slipped it over Jessica’s head, worked her limp arms through armholes, and tucked her under the covers. There was a brief reaction to his goodnight kiss, but brief was the key word there; a pleased hum in the back of her throat and then a slide back into drunken sleep.

  Natalya hadn’t wiggled so much as a finger since he’d tucked her under.

  He turned out the light and crept out of the house. Without his shirt, it was a cold trot home, but it would be totally worth it.

  Greg just wished that he could be there to see her face when she did wake up.

  Chapter 7

  (Monday)

  A pillow slapped into Jessica’s face and her headache exploded to life.

  “What!?” She barely managed to fend off the next blow.

  “You’re such a witch,” Natalya dropped the pillow back on her bed with a thump and groaned.

  “Why am I a witch?” Jessica managed to crack open one eye to look at her cousin sitting on the edge of her bed with her head hanging down in her hands.

  “First, you break up with Greg.”

  Oh! She had, hadn’t she.

  “Do you really still think that was smart?”

  She did. She didn’t have to like it, but it was the right choice. He was being an Eagle Cove chef and she was returning to Chicago in just five days. Everything was getting too close and intense when she already knew how it was going to end.

  “Second, you just had to tell us quite how amazing he is in bed.”

  “I didn’t,” please tell her she hadn’t. But Jessica could remember snippets of doing just that. She pulled her own pillow over her face to hide her embarrassment. “I did,” she mumbled into its depths.

  “You did. In thoroughly decadent detail and we were drunk enough to listen,” Natalya’s voice shuddered as if she’d never purge the images. “And then third, the part that makes you a total witch, you got all drunk and miserable and sad like the little puppy dog you are. That made me feel as if someone should keep you company with your drinking.” Natalya groaned again. “How was I supposed to know just how much you’d drink?”

  The way Jessica’s head felt, she’d didn’t want to know the answer to that question. She raised a corner of her pillow and caught sight of Sigourney Weaver aiming a massive rifle at a slobbering alien. She looked ready to conquer the universe and Jessica doubted she could conquer a piece of toast at the moment.

  Natalya flopped back onto her mattress, “I swear, cousin or not, I’m going to kill you if I ever recover.” She still wore the clothes she’d had on last night, though they were now much the worse for wear from sleeping in them.

  “Um,” the last thing she really remembered was Becky’s tasting bar and a shockingly long line of small but very empty glasses. “How did we get here?”

  “Don’t know,” Natalya flopped back on her bed and dragged her own pillow back over her face to shield against the sunlight slipping through the Harry Potter curtains featuring a very ticked off Hermione Granger wielding her shining wand.

  Maybe she knew a magic spell for hangovers. Curiatus! No, that was too much like the cruciatus curse presently throttling her skull from the inside.

  “I remember kissing someone,” Natalya posed it as half statement, half question.

  “It wasn’t me, was it?”

  “No. Male. Very male. Good kisser too.”

  “I’m a good kisser, too,” though why she was arguing about it was beyond her. “But I’m not male.” Jessica didn’t remember kissing anyone. She wished that she had. Someone who could help her purge Greg Slater from her system. Even thinking of him made her feel all mushy inside and that absolutely would not do.

  There was a soft knock on the door.

  “Go away. There’s no one alive in here,” Jessica called out then really wished she hadn’t as her headache explored previously undiscovered levels of awfulitude.

  “I have coffee and hot chocolate,” a male voice answered through the door.

  “Coffee!” Natalya moaned from beneath her pillow.

  Hot chocolate. Right
at the moment, she would kill for some.

  “And aspirin,” the muffled voice called out again.

  “Ohh!” Natalya moaned with delight.

  “Enter oh savior of the day,” Jessica called out. “Just do it softly.”

  It wasn’t until he was opening the door that Jessica realized who the voice belonged to. She really didn’t want to see Greg, especially not after breaking up with him over the phone—a rather abrupt pronouncement that had not been kind. But it was too late on both accounts: the breakup and the permission to enter. He was already through the door, smiling in at them.

  “It is noon. I thought you might want to get up.”

  Natalya still mumbled from beneath her pillow. “Noon. Sun at brightest. Must hide.”

  “Cof-fee,” Greg teased and Natalya emerged slowly and took the mug Greg was holding out.

  Jessica continued to watch him with the one eye she’d uncovered. She’d rather hide, but she did enjoy looking at him.

  “Here,” he held out a mug of steaming hot chocolate with a dozen tiny marshmallows bobbing merrily on the surface.

  Her father had told his little girl that marshmallows were signs of pirate treasure lying below the surface and each must be swallowed up to reach the prize. She’d always drunk her cocoa that way ever since. He’d told the truth. At the bottom of every mug lurked a treasure of extra-rich chocolate that settled so warm in her stomach.

  She struggled upright, shoving and pushing until she could lean against the headboard, a carved relief of King Kong. Natalya’s was of Fay Wray, the woman who had brought about the downfall of the great beast. The carving was just deep enough to make a good backscratcher. Her nerve endings were universally fried and appreciated the gentle massage.

  Greg was grinning at her as if she was naked. But she wasn’t. She was wearing a t-shirt, a nice roomy one that wouldn’t show anything.

  Natalya turned a bloodshot glance in her direction and then nearly snorted her coffee.

  “What?” Jessica looked down. This wasn’t one of her t-shirts. In fact, the last thing she remembered wearing was the dress presently spread over the back of a child-sized captain’s chair that belonged on the bridge of a miniature Enterprise. No, Star Trek Voyager. Jessica recalled a stuffed Captain Janeway doll was perched in the seat, even though she was presently giving orders from behind flowered cotton.