Something New

by Jenny Rabe

  “It worked.” Her voice did nothing to conceal her surprise. “It really worked.”

  A dreamy look replaced his startled one. “What was that?”

  Emilie laughed. “Your mom told me the only way to wake you up was with a kiss.” She paused as his eyes narrowed. “Don’t be mad. I was just doing what she told me.”

  His eyebrows turned down, his expression more serious than before.

  Crap. He didn’t approve. Emilie fumbled with the words to apologize. “Sorry, I shouldn’t ha—”

  He reached for her, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. His lips pressed against hers.

  Emilie’s lips froze against his as a dozen thoughts filled her mind. What was he doing? Did he feel something for her, too? She stayed stoically in place, and he backed away. Panic filled her at the thought of repeating the same single kiss from before she left. No follow up. No meaning.

  Before he could escape, she threaded her fingers through his hair and momentarily lost herself in the sensation of his soft lips against hers. Shivers of light whirled through her.

  A knock sounded on the passenger door, and the two of them jumped apart. Mr. Gunther, the pharmacist from across the street, smiled brightly at them. Heat crawled up her neck, adding to the extra adrenaline pumping through her blood. The kiss had only lasted seconds, but left Emilie breathless.

  Dean leaned out the window. “Evening, sir.”

  “If it isn’t Dean and Emilie.” Mr. Gunther’s gray hair shook as he gave a jovial laugh.

  Great, people would think she made out in cars with just anyone. Not that Dean wasn’t someone, he was just…Dean. She scooted far away from him.

  “Heard you two got engaged. Glad to find out the rumor is true.” His eyes glittered in the fading light, and he chuckled while he waited for them to say something.

  Emilie’s throat closed up, and the words died on her tongue. Dean turned to the old man. “Word gets around fast.”

  While Mr. Gunther rattled on, Emilie tried to dissolve into the seat.

  “Better get going.” Mr. Gunther ran a hand through his hair and gave a nervous chuckle. “Sorry about interrupting. I’ll see you two around. I expect an invitation to the wedding.”

  Dean was quick to answer. “Will do.” He was having too much fun with the lie.

  Emilie gave Mr. Gunther a half-hearted wave and stared down at the truck’s floorboard until she was sure he was gone.

  After a few anxious seconds, she leaned over and slapped Dean’s leg. “What was that?”

  His eyes danced in the fading light. “What? The kiss? Or the conversation?”

  She crossed her arms and sat back against the seat. “Both.”

  “We’ve got to make this look like the real thing. See, Mr. Gunther approved.”

  Her heart pounded. The kiss had felt pretty real to her, not that she would tell him. Even though there was disappointment it had ended, there was also relief. If their kissing session had continued, their friendship would be in a heap of trouble. “Real, my foot. It won’t take long for people to figure out we’re not engaged.”

  Dean’s smile slipped for a second. “Then we’re going to need a whole lot more practice.”

  Nervous butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the thought of holding him close again. She tried to laugh it off. “Very funny.” Avoiding his gaze, she focused on buckling her seatbelt. “I think that’s all the practice you’re getting.”

  Dean started the truck, but a silly grin remained on his face. “I thought it was a good idea.”

  “Let’s get going before someone else peeks in.” In truth, Emilie’s breathing was more erratic than it’d been in the studio when she’d danced at full speed. The nostalgia and the return to town was making her temporarily crazy. Tomorrow, she’d go back to holding everything in and trying to find a happy normal. She couldn’t develop feelings for a guy and then get crushed. Especially not Dean, not even a little bit. Losing him would do her in.

  She took a few calming breaths and stretched her long legs out. “Would you turn up the air? I’m dying.”

  He snickered as he turned up the air conditioner.

  While he drove her home, it wasn’t long before thoughts of kissing him invaded her mind. Her thoughts were so tied up with their locking lips she didn’t notice when he pulled up behind her car. It still sat there, weighed down with her life.

  Her throat dried. What would the rest of the night entail? Unpacking? Cleaning? Hiding was more likely. When had it gotten so dark? She swallowed down the uncomfortable feeling of being alone. Her fear shook, threatening to spill. She couldn't go back to her house, not then. It was too soon. Maybe after a good night's sleep.

  “Can I—”

  “Stay at my place for the night?” Dean filled in the words for her.

  She looked over at him, trying not to stare at his lips. It wasn’t a good idea. With some hesitation, she looked at the packed-down jeep. Nothing had been brought inside, and the thought of unpacking alone sent shivers up her back.

  “Maybe just tonight. I’ll come over early and give it a good try tomorrow.”

  He put his truck into park but let the engine idle. “I’m working earlier shifts this week and should be home in the afternoon. You can hang out at my place, and then we can go at this together.”

  A blush filled her cheeks at the thought of being tangled up in each other’s arms only minutes ago. Thank goodness he couldn’t see her clearly. Shaking the thoughts away, she said, “Sounds perfect. I’m sure I’ll be ready then.”

  She hopped out of the truck and took a moment to let the cool breeze clear her mind. Then she grabbed a bag she had subconsciously packed that morning. It had a change of clothes and anything she’d need for a sleepover. Wait, had she just thought of it as a sleepover?

  A picture of the two of them sleeping in the same bed crossed her mind. She bit her lip hard. Nope, that couldn’t happen. She’d sleep on the couch if the other rooms were taken. Sure, she’d felt something for him a couple of times over the years, but nothing like the chemistry that was stirred by kissing him. He was getting to her, and she couldn’t let that happen.

  She sighed and continued gathering her things. If she didn’t get a handle on her hormones, they would ruin everything.

  8

  Dean

  The next morning, Dean pulled up to the docks at a quarter to three in the morning. He hadn’t gotten much sleep anyway since Emilie was in the next room, so he might as well go to work and be productive. Then he could get back to her sooner.

  Both of the guys who worked for him were waiting when he reached the boardwalk.

  “Hey, boss,” Roy drawled. “You going with us?”

  Roy Parker was Dean’s right-hand man. He was thicker around the middle and slower of speech than most, but he knew when and where to cast the nets.

  “Yeah, I’m going out, but why are you guys here so early?”

  Roy yawned and rubbed his large neck. “We heard you caught more in the morning yesterday, so we wanted to give it a go. I’ll be happy if it doesn’t work out.”

  Dean nodded. “Everything ready?”

  “Yep. Nets are cleaned, boats been checked. I’m just waiting for the all clear from Ranger.”

  Dean’s small team worked well together, and he was glad he wouldn’t be alone to overthink what happened last night. Ranger drove the boat, most of the time, and Roy led them to the best fishing spots. Dean managed the accounts and occasionally helped the boys deliver fish, but right then, he needed to get his hands dirty.

  Seeing Finn yesterday irked him, and even more irksome was the fact that Finn had invited Emilie to help with his wedding. But most of his mind was occupied with Emilie and the kiss they’d shared. At first, he couldn’t believe she’d kissed him back, but what did it mean? Right after that, she’d rejected him.

  His daring move reminded him of their kiss right before she left Danvers six years ago. It had been a brave, stupid move, a selfish
way to keep her in his memory. Last night’s kiss had been every bit as tantalizing and frustrating.

  His thoughts were so preoccupied with her lips that he stepped into a gap in the deck and nearly toppled over. He caught himself on the edge of the wood railing, but not without consequence. His ankle rolled forward, and he heard a pop. “Oomph.” He grabbed the side of his leg and massaged his ankle.

  Roy turned when he heard the noise. “Boss, you okay?”

  Embarrassed, Dean pulled himself up and limped past him, rubbing at his side. That would bruise. “I’m fine. Let’s get going.”

  A morning of hard labor would clear his head and heart. There was nowhere else he wanted to be more than on the water that morning. Well, maybe one other place, but he refused to think about Emilie at his house, probably just waking up. He changed into some scrubbier clothes, not wanting to smell too heavily of fish when he returned home.

  When Ranger gave the all clear, they headed out for the first catch of the day. The bay brimmed with fish that time of year, and they didn’t have to go far out to find a net full.

  After they dropped the nets, the guys sat around him and stared at him.

  Dean swiped at his mouth. He usually shaved after work, as food tended to get stuck in his facial hair. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

  Roy nudged Ranger’s foot.

  After a few seconds, Ranger cleared his throat. “Something happened yesterday when you met Emilie, huh?”

  Dean stared back at them. They’d heard something for sure. Both of them lived with their families in Danvers, and it was only a matter of time before they heard about the rumor. “How did you hear?”

  Roy stood up. “So, it’s true? You’re engaged? I couldn’t believe it when Betty’s friend called to ask. She said she saw you together at Busy Bee’s.”

  Dean sighed. His workers gossiped too much. Telling them the truth wouldn’t be the best thing to do, not yet at least. “I’m engaged to Emilie Carter.”

  Roy sat next to him on the bench and slapped him hard on the shoulder, propelling him forward. His ankle smarted as it rolled against the wooden floor. Immediately, Roy reached for Dean and settled him back on the bench. “Sorry, man, don’t know my own strength sometimes.”

  Dean tried laughing through the pain without success. How was he going to ice it around Emilie without worrying her? “It’s fine. I’m sure you’re both surprised. We’re private about the whole thing and only announced it yesterday.”

  Ranger stared at him with wide eyes. “I can’t believe you two are getting married. You’ve liked that girl for forever.”

  That was the truth. Glad to change the subject, Dean pointed to the wiggling nets. “Better get started.”

  The three men grabbed at the heavy load, pulling it up together.

  Ranger ran a hand over the flopping fish. The sun hadn’t risen yet, and their silver bodies glimmered in the floodlights. “Oooh, Boss. You were right. This is incredible.”

  Dean nodded. “Let’s start.”

  Roy and Ranger placed the bigger fish in the ice cooler while he focused on the tedious task of throwing the tiny ones back into the water. Their little bodies wriggled in his hand as he picked them out of the net and dropped them back to safety. Their first load brought in a few halibut, plenty of tuna, and more than enough scup fish. He threw half of the scup back, since most people didn’t like to mess with their tiny bones.

  After another load of similar catch, they headed to the docks to give their catch to Sammy, who helped them tie up and unload. Instead of Sammy cleaning the fish by himself, Dean asked to be left behind as his crew went out for their second catch of the day.

  “You want to stay with me, tagata malie?” Sammy looked skeptical. He scratched at his skinny belly a few times. “It’s a bloody, stinking mess.”

  “Yes, I want to.” Dean helped heave the cooler of fish closer to the dockside filet tables. “I want to get my mind off of things for a while.”

  Sammy smiled, and his white teeth glinted in the early morning sun. “Yeah, I heard you’re engaged. Is that true, man?”

  Dean distracted himself by separating the fish into groups—hardest to clean to easiest. “Maybe, but let’s talk after the guys go back out again.”

  They prepped a full table while the guys unloaded, rechecked everything, and headed out for another catch on the water. Dean was practically bursting to tell Sammy the truth. His island friend didn’t get caught up in rumors around town, so he’d be safe to trust with a secret; his other crew, not so much. It was torture waiting for them to leave.

  When the boat was safely out of sight, he slapped a dead fish on the table. “Emilie and I are fake engaged.”

  Sammy dropped his knife then picked it up again and chopped off a fish’s head in one clean cut like nothing surprising had been said. “Fake engaged, huh? What does that mean?”

  Dean shrugged. “Finn tracked us down at Busy Bees and told Emilie he was engaged to Ava, even invited her to their wedding. I couldn’t just stand there while he asked her if she’d be bringing a plus one.”

  “So you’re wanting to be her plus one, for like forever?” Sammy beamed over the table as he pulled the spine from the tuna with one sharp jerk.

  Dean’s stomach was usually pretty tough, especially around fish, but it rocked unsteadily as Sammy shook the thin skeleton at him. “No, I didn’t say that.” In an instant, his thoughts returned to the kiss he and Emilie shared. One didn’t do that if it meant nothing, right? No way was that a brotherly kiss. Could she feel more for him? He pushed down the hope growing inside him, remembering how nonchalantly she’d moved on to another topic.

  Sammy slapped Dean’s shoulder, sending a line of fish guts running down his arm. “Don’t you worry, brother. She’ll see the light, and if she doesn’t, you can always marry my sister.”

  Dean laughed. Sammy’s sister was eight years old and had taken a strong liking to Dean since their first meeting at the docks. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  The morning went quickly, working with his islander friend, laughing and poking fun at the other fishermen with their empty and half-full nets. After Dean dropped off fish to four customers, including Busy Bees, he headed home.

  He wanted to see Emilie, but he worried about everything that could go wrong. What if she was disappointed with the changes he’d made on her house and broke off their fake engagement? What if she found out about Ava? Too many what if questions and no answers, at least not yet.

  And then there was the kiss that replayed in his mind. Certainly, he’d never felt that way with Ava. Dating her had been like cleaning fish. It left a stink and a mess to clean up afterward. Emilie was more like the ocean. Always in his thoughts, steady, but sometimes rocky, and constantly full of life.

  He turned on the radio, allowing his favorite old rock songs from the eighties to distract him.

  When he arrived home, he went in through the back door to slip into the shower before Emilie saw him, or worse, smelled him. Even though he’d changed his clothes at the docks and washed his hands and arms, he couldn’t get the fish stink out of his nose. Most days he didn’t care, but if Emilie wanted another spontaneous kissing practice session, he wanted to be ready.

  He hobbled around to the back of the house. Luck was not on his side. Emilie sat on the back porch, holding a soda and looking up at the sky.

  Without looking his way, she pinched her nose and pointed to the door. “I can smell you from here. Don’t come near me.”

  He ignored the pain in his ankle and stepped closer, his hands reaching out to hold her. So much for staying away.

  “Don’t you dare.”

  It hadn’t been in his plan, only now he couldn’t resist. He grinned wider and pulled her from the lawn chair she lounged on. She screamed helplessly and pushed him away with her fists, but it was no use. In no time, she was slimed with fish stink.

  When he let her go, she ran for the side of the house, grabbed the hose, and t
urned on the faucet.

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” He tossed his phone to the side and ran at her. A cold stream hit him squarely in the eyes. He backed up and blocked his face. “Oh, you’re going to get it.”

  His worries from the day melted away. She was just as beautiful soaking wet as she was when she dolled herself up. The two of them wrestled for the hose as Emilie screamed for a truce. Both of them were soaked. After she turned off the water, he slung her over his shoulder and limped to the guest bathroom, his ankle smarting with every move.

  But it was worth it. Even when she kicked and pounded his back, she didn’t stop laughing. So adorable. Dean stored away the memory as one he’d never forget.

  “You better be glad I have a few extra changes of underpants or else you’d be in trouble,” she yelled at him.

  He placed her next to the bathtub and leaned over to kiss her cheek. It was unintentional, but when she pulled back in surprise, he knew he’d done the wrong thing. To mask his hurt, he flashed her a smile. “Thought I could pull a fast one, but you’re too quick.”

  Blocking her face with a hand, she took a step back. “Dean, I—”

  A bitter feeling of disappointment punched him in the gut. They were having so much fun. Why’d he ruin everything? He tried not to sound deflated. “Sorry, I shouldn’t kid around so much. I’ll leave a shirt and some shorts by the door.”

  “I told you! No more kissing practice. I’m already good enough.” She giggled. “Also, bring me a stapler. I’m going to look like a clown in your clothes.”

  He winked, glad the playful mood had returned. “Can’t wait to see it.”

  He backed out of the bathroom, his ankle stinging again. She noticed and nodded toward his foot.

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing much. Just turned it wrong at the docks.”

  She frowned and bent to study it. “It’s bruising. Make sure to ice it after the shower.”

  He gave her a salute. “Yes, ma’am.” He hurried to his room, grabbed what she needed, and left it outside the door.