The Sisterhood Promise

by Susan Hatler

  “On a retreat?” he asked, pushing his hands in his pockets.

  “No, with a flat tire,” I said, loosening the next lug nut. “Only my mom had a real flat tire. She was driving to work on Halloween, and had apparently dressed as a sexy baseball umpire. Hard for me to picture, but they were in college. Anyway, she pulled over to the side of the road with the flat and my dad stopped to help her.” I smiled remembering the story. “Dad said she had finesse and she liked baseball, the perfect combination.”

  “Your dad sounds like a bit of a romantic.”

  “Or he used to be,” I said, feeling a flood of sadness well up inside of me. “They’re splitting up now, remember? My mom said she wanted to be in love again. Whatever that means. My dad’s been buying her flowers and trying to make her happy. It’s sad.”

  “I know,” he said, moving closer and rubbing the small of my back in a very soothing way. “At least your dad hasn’t given up. Might not be too late for them.”

  “Everything used to be perfect, though, and now—”

  An anguished cry shrieked through the air, followed by the loud clang of a wrench hitting the pavement. I whipped my head around in time to see Greta cover her mouth with her hands, then run into the house as tears streamed down her face.

  “What was that all about?” Charlie asked from the car next to me.

  “She’ll be fine,” I said, loud enough for everyone to hear since they had all stopped working on their tires. Actually, Amy was sitting on her spare tire, chatting with Pete. So not following instructions. I pointed to my tire. “Let’s all finish our tasks, then break for refreshments.”

  Charlie gave me a meaningful look, but I left the topic alone, knowing many of the women had come on this retreat to recover from heartbreak just like Charlie and I had. Greta needed a little privacy right now. That, or she just hated changing tires.

  I could feel Brody’s gaze on me, and suspected he’d guessed what was wrong since he’d seen the argument between Greta and Scotty the other night. “Man, she was really upset.”

  “Yeah, it’s too bad,” I said, setting the jack under the car, moving it to several places until Brody pointed to the underside of the car by the passenger door. I smiled at him gratefully, then pumped the handle up and down to raise the jack. I felt a rush of joy as the car and wheel raised off the ground. I gazed up at Brody. “I’m getting the hang of this.”

  “Good job,” he said, then gave me a questioning sideways glance.

  I could tell from his expression he hadn’t moved off the subject of Greta. I needed to help her. I’d be taking a huge chance by sharing her personal information, but I knew I could trust Brody. In that moment, I decided to confide in him.

  With the tire in the air—thanks to yours truly, woot!—I twisted the rest of a lug nut off and then started working the next lug nut. “Greta’s pretty upset over seeing Scotty again. I think it brought back all of her hurt feelings over the breakup.” I sucked in a breath. “Please don’t share this with him, but she thinks he was cheating on her.”

  His brows came together. “No way. He’s not that kind of guy.”

  I pondered this, then on an impulse, blurted, “Do you think you could do me a favor?”

  “Name it.”

  I put a hand on either side of the “flat” tire and pulled it off. “When Greta told me about her breakup with Scotty, she mentioned a boat he’d bought, and she saw him on that boat with another woman. Late at night, if you get my meaning.”

  “I know the boat,” he said. “He originally planned to name the boat after his girlfriend. After they broke up, he named the boat ‘Bittersweet.’ I’m telling you, he’s not over her.” He watched me put on the spare tire. “I feel lame just standing here, not helping at all.”

  “You’re my moral support.” I threw him a crafty smile, checked my instructions, then began twisting the lug nuts clockwise. “Could you find out if he was or wasn’t seeing someone else while he was with Greta? Maybe there’s a logical explanation for why the woman was on the boat with him. Although, late at night sounds pretty suspicious. Don’t you think?”

  “Sure, I can do that. Now, I’d like you to do a favor for me.”

  “Um . . .” My brows came together and I peeked at my directions again, delaying my answer. I pulled the handle out of the jack, then reinserted it to slowly rotate counter clockwise and release the hydraulic pressure until the car rested on the ground. Then I took the wrench and started tightening each lug nut. “What kind of favor?” I asked, glancing up at him.

  His blue eyes peered into mine. “Go out on a date with me.”

  Chills vibrated through me and I shivered. Even though I wanted to, I couldn’t date during the retreat. What kind of hypocrite would I be? But as I glanced around, I saw some of the other women talking with their new friends, even Charlie and Wyatt. Unless I wanted to be guarded all my life, even bitter like Greta, I needed to let my guard down and go on another date. I finished tightening the last lug nut, then tapped the wrench against my opposite palm. I opened my mouth to say no, then blurted. “Yes, I’d love to date you, Brody.”

  He blinked once, twice, then the corners of his mouth curved upward. I smiled back at him. If my mentor could have a breakdown while I changed a car’s tire and kept her retreat running smoothly, then this independent woman deserved and could choose to have a night off with Brody.

  Chapter Fifteen

  While waiting for Brody to pick me up outside the mansion that night, I changed my mind about our date a hundred times. Sure, I’d snuck outside, making sure none of the other women saw me, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t get caught. In Greta’s current state, I had no idea how she’d react if she knew I was going on a date with Brody. She’d referred to all men as “evil personified” earlier, so I’m guessing her reaction wouldn’t be good.

  Charlie was the only person who knew where I was going. She actually seemed excited about me sneaking out, claiming the act reminded her of our teenage years. I asked her to call me if an emergency came up, and she also agreed to keep an eye on Greta. What if Greta started bawling again and Charlie couldn’t comfort her? What if Greta wanted me?

  I’d just convinced myself to call Brody to cancel when he pulled up in a big black truck. He hopped out of the driver’s side, came around to the passenger’s side, and opened the door for me. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you. Us. Tonight.”

  My belly cartwheeled. How could I say no to him after that line?

  “Me, either,” I said, climbing into his truck. The women were journaling today, so the retreat could obviously survive a few hours without me. I fastened my seatbelt.

  He pulled away from the mansion, driving down the long road away from the bluffs. “I made reservations at the new restaurant at the Inn at Blue Moon Bay. I hear good things about their menu.” He grinned. “Why are you smiling?”

  “My friend Wendy owns the inn.” I gazed out over the crisp clear bay as we rounded a bend then drove through a scattering of trees. “You met her in the bar at Scotty’s. Her boyfriend, Max, just opened the restaurant. I’m sure it’s fantastic.”

  He grinned at me. “Small world.”

  The drive in the early evening light made everything around me feel romantic in a warm, fuzzy way. When I started this week, I hadn’t been looking to date and certainly not for romance. Even so, as I cast a sideways glance at Brody, I wondered if he really was as sweet as he seemed. Not the kind of guy who would dump me for his ex when my back was turned. But there had to be nice guys out there. My dad was a sweetie. Wendy’s boyfriend was amazing. Brody had even said Wyatt and Scotty were good guys. I could only hope.

  As we pulled up to the valet station outside the restaurant, Brody helped me out of the truck. He leaned close, and whispered, “I knew Wendy owned the inn. I paid attention.”

  A little zing zipped through me. He paid attention. To me. . . “You did?” I smiled, loving the tickle of his warm breath against my ear.

 
He grinned in answer. As we entered the restaurant, I was pleased to see how well the space had turned out. The restaurant was long and narrow on its bay side wall, had windows on three sides, all with spectacular views of the bay. The walls were painted in pale green and silver, matching the upholstery, the carpet, and the intricate swirled wallpaper lining the back wall.

  “Mr. Mitchell, we’ve been expecting you,” the hostess said, breaking my thoughts. She led us to a cozy booth that overlooked the bay, which sparkled with hues of red, orange, and yellow in the glow of the setting sun. She set our menus in front of us, then left the wine menu next to Brody.

  “May I get you a cocktail?” a young man asked, materializing out of nowhere.

  Brody looked at me, raising his brows. “Blue Moon Breeze, Olivia?”

  A small laugh escaped. I remembered that was my “I’m off the market drink,” and I wasn’t sure what my status was anymore. I wrinkled my nose. “I’ll wait and look at the wine menu.”

  “Same with me,” he said.

  The man nodded. “Take your time.”

  Brody seemed able to read my thoughts because he said, “You’re not going to order your independent single woman’s drink?”

  I folded my hands on the table. “Are you going to tease me all night?”

  “It’s my guilty pleasure. Besides, if your beverage choice will compromise our evening then I need warning. What if I wanted to kiss you good night?”

  I melted a little bit and my tummy warmed. Kiss me? How long had it been since I’d been properly kissed. “My guilty pleasure is reality TV,” I said, trying to change the subject to keep the heat in my chest from rising to my face.

  “All right,” he said, acknowledging he knew I’d purposefully switched topics, and he’d let his question go unanswered. “Reality TV is such a predictable guilty pleasure. You can tell me your true guilty pleasure. I can keep a secret.”

  My face heated. Shoot. I debated whether or not to confess my true guilty pleasure. But an independent woman wouldn’t be embarrassed. “Fine,” I said, leaning forward and splaying my hands against the tabletop. “I like to dance to 90s music in my pajamas. Sometimes I sing, but my voice cracks a lot, so I don’t like to torture the neighbors too often.”

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about.” He grinned, opening the wine menu. “We’ll have a dance party together sometime. My voice can crack on high notes with the best of them.”

  “I’d love to watch you bust a move while singing to the Spice Girls,” I said with a laugh.

  “I’m more partial to R.E.M. Anyone sounds good singing their music,” he countered.

  We laughed until the server returned, and we chose a bottle of wine to go with our dinner. Brody and I both ordered the salmon special, and I was amazed at how much we had in common. Throughout dinner he seemed to draw me out of my shyness and insecurities, making me share silly things that only my best friends knew about me. By the time dessert arrived, I felt completely relaxed with him. And part of my mind lingered on kissing those full lips.

  “Tell me about Men: Who Needs Them?” He kept his tone light for such a serious subject, then he dug into his slice of apple pie. “What man drove you to a book that extreme?”

  “You’re not really asking me that, are you?” I bit down on my forkful of flourless chocolate with raspberries, bummed that he’d caused me to revisit my past with Hunter. Brody and I had been having such a good time. I hated to ruin our fun with thoughts of my ex. When Brody just stared back at me, I sighed. “What can I say? Hunter seemed like the perfect guy until he got back together with his ex-girlfriend.”

  He flinched. “Ouch. So that’s why seeing me with Taylor bothered you.”

  I glanced at my hands, not wanting to admit aloud I was jealous of anyone. “Truthfully, I’d been more excited about the idea of Hunter.” I waved my fork. “Childhood friend returns from the big city, handsome and successful.” I blew out a breath. “Sounded lovely. Took me by surprise when he dumped me. He had all of these plans for our future, but . . . I guess now he’s making those plans with her.” I shrugged, sinking my fork into the cake, then popping another bite in my mouth. “What about you? Why did your last relationship end?”

  His gaze held mine. “Taylor’s a great person, but I didn’t love her.”

  “Oh,” I said, inwardly flinching. Short and succinct. The poor woman. I couldn’t imagine having a man like Brody in my life and then losing him. Men: Who Needs Them? wouldn’t be enough. I’d have to join a nunnery, or something. My heart pinched as I looked into his beautiful blue eyes, but how could I be sure he could love anyone? Especially me. I’d been keeping him at bay since I met him, but suddenly the thought of not knowing him left an ache in my chest. Talk about ironic.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked, propping his chin on his fist.

  “I’m picturing you doing the Macarena in your P.J.’s,” I joked, breaking the dark mood and setting my fork across my empty plate. I needed to move forward and not worry about the drama. Just have fun. “That is going to be a sight to see.”

  Brody chuckled as he paid the bill, even though I pointed out that an independent woman could pay for her own meal. He countered that I should save my money for 90s dance lessons since he was looking forward to our dance competition. He made me laugh, and when he suggested we take a walk along the beach beside the inn, I happily agreed.

  He took my hand as we strolled down the winding path around the restaurant and alongside the back of the inn. The path was lit on either side until we reached the manicured grass that stretched out toward the bluff. We descended the pebbled steps in silence, then we reached the beach below. Under the soft moonlight, black waves rolled toward shore and crashed on the sand in fingers of white foam. “It’s beautiful,” I said.

  He paused and glanced my way. “You’re beautiful, Olivia.”

  I tugged him forward, the fear of falling with no one to catch me felt raw inside me, so I kept my feet moving. I didn’t want to be like Greta, or my dad, or Charlie. But even now, I knew I was falling for Brody.

  We turned down the beach and arrived at a familiar monument pushed against the bluff, which told the story of the legend of Blue Moon Bay. I’d read the plaque many times in my youth, hoping some of the magic would rub off on me and whichever boyfriend I was dating at the time. I knew the words on the metal plaque by heart.

  “What’s this?” Brody asked, as we stopped beside the monument.

  “You’ve never been here?” I asked, then watched him shake his head. My fingers grazed the bronze lettering, and I could feel tingles of heat against my skin. “This is the legend of Blue Moon Bay. I love this story. My friends and I used to dress up and recite the legend when we were kids, hoping our prince would come.” I sighed with pleasure. “It’s just so romantic.”

  “You must get your romantic side from your dad.” He smiled, shadows moving across his features with his back to the moonlight. Then he turned to the words that were glowing in the monument’s small spotlight. He read, “One kiss, right here, under a blue moon will lead to love that lasts forever . . .” He peered down at me. “Good stuff.”

  I shivered, loving the warm sound of his voice reciting the words I knew so well. I pressed my hands against the edge of the plaque, then lifted my lashes, biting my bottom lip. “Will you read the rest of the story?”

  He nodded, slipping his arm around my waist. Then he continued reading, “Know the history of two young people, the daughter of locals and the son of summer guests, who fell helplessly in love at this very beach. When their parents discovered their relationship, they were forbidden to see each other. His parents felt the working girl was beneath their son and her parents feared the scandal could ruin their business. But the night before the family was to return home, the son got a note to his sweetheart and they met here under the stars.

  “He pleaded with her to wait a year for him to turn eighteen and become a man—that until then they could write to each other i
n secret and he’d find a way for them to be together. The young girl knew their parents would never allow that to happen, though. She’d always obeyed her parents and wasn’t strong enough to go against their wishes, even for the perfect love she shared with him.

  “So, with broken hearts, they said goodbye to each other right here at this very spot. A blue moon hung in the night sky, illuminating their final kiss and they promised to love each other always. Then they vowed that everyone who kissed at this exact point by the bay, under a blue moon, would be in love forever—and would never separate as they tragically had.”

  When he finished reading the story, I could see that he was frowning. That wasn’t the reaction I’d been expecting so my brows came together as well. “What? Don’t you think it’s romantic?” I asked. This legend was one of my favorite treasures of Blue Moon Bay. We had so much in common, but now I felt surprised he didn’t react to the story like I did.

  His arm tightened around my waist. “The story seems kind of sad, honestly. Two people in love who can’t find a way to be together? Tragic.”

  I squeezed his arm. “The sadness is what makes the legend so romantic. Their perfect romance was ruined by their parents’ disapproval. Even though they couldn’t be together, they vowed to love each other forever. I’m sure they did, too.”

  Suddenly, Brody moved away from the plaque, facing the shore.

  The only sound was the rhythmic roar of the waves against the shore and my pounding pulse between my ears. I felt cold and empty without Brody’s warmth against me. I stepped toward him. “Brody—”

  He spun around and faced me. “If I loved someone that much, I’d never leave her.”

  Tingles shot through me from the passion in his tone. But he wasn’t being realistic. Just look at how my parents’ marriage turned out. “I think that’s a nice sentiment,” I said, slipping my hands into my jacket pockets to keep them warm. “But you never know what life might hold. To keep someone in your heart like they did, that’s the true test of love.”