by A Rosendale
“Puget Sound? Friday Harbor? Sounds like you’re drawn to the Pacific Northwest.”
“It’s home, actually. My family has a house in Friday Harbor. I grew up on my dad’s troller. I suppose you could say I’m drawn to the ocean in general.”
“Wow! What better place to study marine biology!”
“You’ve been?”
“Briefly.” He didn’t mentioned when or why.
“Where are you from, Dirk?”
He placed his hands in his hoodie pocket and leaned back in the chair. “Montana.”
“And you’re in the Navy?” she scoffed.
He shared her laugh. “No. I just consult. I’ve only been out to sea a couple times to test systems.”
“I see.”
“What brought you to Boston? As far as I know, we don’t host many orcas.”
“The university,” she admitted.
“Did you graduate from Boston?”
“No. University of Washington, Seattle.”
“That makes sense.”
Alma smiled. “Where did you go to school?”
“MIT.”
“Impressive.”
He shrugged modestly.
Alma looked at her watch. “I need to get going. It was nice to see you again.”
“You, too.”
Bundled against the cold, she exited the Lighthouse Café. She wasn’t sure if it was true, but she liked to pretend those emerald eyes followed her down the street, hopefully with a smile lifting the corners of his mouth.
* * *
Dirk joined the throngs of commuters Monday morning. He wore a suit and the long trench coat, blending in with hundreds of others on the sidewalk. The snow had dissipated and the sun shone down on the city.
He was swept into the café with a handful of college students. It took longer to procure a paper cup of coffee, but with it in hand, he moved through the strangers.
“Good morning,” Alma greeted as he neared her table.
“Morning.” He looked around at the busy shop and crowded tables. “I just wanted to say hello.”
“Would you care to sit down?” she asked hurriedly.
Pleased at the invitation, he joined her.
“What are you teaching today, Professor?”
She smiled at the title. “The diet and behavior differences of sea lions versus seals, mating grounds of humpback whales, and climate change impacts on arctic marine life,” she answered without hesitation.
“Sounds like a full day,” Dirk commented, impressed.
“What are you up to today?”
“Just another day at the office,” he lied easily. “Speaking of which, I better get to it. Have a good day.”
“You, too.” She smiled at him in parting and felt like she’d really like to take his salutation in earnest.
* * *
Alma arrived at the Lighthouse earlier than normal the following day in anticipation of seeing Dirk. She’d enjoyed his company over the past three days, even if it was mostly in companionable silence. When he hadn’t arrived by the time she sat down, she produced The Help from her bag and read, distracted every few minutes by the jingle of the door opening. But an hour passed and he never arrived. Disappointed, she set off toward campus.
Chapter 2
Dirk entered his cold apartment. The stove clock read 5:13 am. Exhaustion weighed on his limbs and propelled him toward bed. But a fond vision of a lighthouse mural made him falter. If he showered and walked through the pre-dawn, he’d arrive before the morning rush. The duffel bag he tossed on the bed was light. It only held a change of clothes, his passport, a lightweight handgun and holster, and the paperback fiction.
After showering and dressing in slacks, a dress shirt, and tie, he tucked the book in a trench coat pocket and started his new favorite journey. Along the way, he stopped at a small bookstore. The cashier was also the only barista working the coffee shop in the back.
Dirk waved at the young woman, who acknowledged him with a nod and continued prepping espresso for a man at the counter. He browsed the shelves, finally found what he was searching for, and stepped up to the cash register. During his shopping, several more early morning patrons had arrived and the harried barista was scurrying. He caught her eye, motioned to the book and then to the cash in his hand as he slid it under the register. It covered the book plus some. She smiled in appreciation and understanding.
The Lighthouse was just starting to get busy when he claimed his black coffee and retired to the window table. He’d returned the Mayan fiction to the bookshelf and produced his newest novel. The door alarm distracted him the first five times it jingled, but after that he stopped glancing up eagerly.
“I started to think you’d moved on,” a voice interrupted.
Successfully hiding the joy the sound brought, he looked up into Alma’s beautiful face. “Sorry to disappoint, but no. I was just on a business trip.” He motioned to the vacant chair across from him and she sat down. “How have your classes been this week, Dr. Decker?”
She raised a brow at the title. “You’ve done some research.”
“I was interested in the summer rituals of orcas in Puget Sound. I find it fascinating that they portray so many familial traits similar to those of humans. And what a treat to rub that massive belly on smooth harbor stones.”
She wasn’t sure why, but the fact that he’d actually searched and read her publication gave her a flush of pride. “Thank you.” She cleared her throat and tried in vain to chase the blush from her face. “Where did your travels take you?”
“Just New York.” The fabricated lie was overlaid by memories of soaring trees rather than skyscrapers. “And you’ve had a good week?” He steered the conversation back to his original question.
“Yes, thank you.” Her eyes were drawn to the paperback resting next to his hand. “Clive Cussler,” she noted with another blush.
“I just started it, but so far an excellent recommendation. And I can see why you’d enjoy his writing. The maritime history is very interesting.”
“I’m glad you’ve found it entertaining.”
“Quite.”
Alma glanced at her watch and visibly hesitated to say goodbye.
“Can I walk you to campus?” he asked with the first hint of trepidation she’d heard from him.
The offer brought a quick smile to her lips. “Sure.” After donning their coats and gathering hot cups of liquid, they set out into the commuting traffic from Cambridge. Dirk stuffed a gloved hand in his pocket and let Alma lead the way through the crowded streets.
Once on the Boston University Bridge crossing Charles River, they walked side by side in companionable silence.
“What’s in the lesson plans today, Doc?”
Alma rolled her eyes at the name, but smiled all the same. “Just a few tests today.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad.”
“It’s not, until you consider the amount of tests to grade over the weekend.” She shrugged. “It comes with the job, though.” She motioned to a beautiful old building. “This is me.”
“Okay. If you’re not too busy, maybe you’d like to join me for dinner tomorrow night?” His customary confidence swayed as she thought about his invitation.
She smiled gently and unconsciously batted her eyes. “Yeah. I think I could fit that in.”
He managed to keep his relief hidden as he returned her grin. “The Palm, seven o’clock?”
It was with the utmost control that Alma refrained from displaying her shock at his choice of restaurants. “Okay. See you then.” Then she turned and headed to her office, then the lecture hall.
Dirk watched until she was well within the bowels of the building. Then he sighed in satisfaction and started the long trek back across the city to his apartment, where he shed the nice clothes and crawled in bed for a long-awaited nap.
* * *
The cab stopped outside a colonnaded patio. Vacant tables scattered the covered terrace. No souls
were brave enough to endure the freezing temperatures to dine outside.
Alma stepped from the taxi in high heeled, knee high boots. Black, wool tights kept the winter chill from her legs and a thick, thigh length black sweater made her warm and cozy, even when the maître d’ relieved her of the coat she wore.
As she turned to face the dining area, she felt a presence at her side. She looked up, startled to see Dirk smiling at her with a rocks glass in hand. He looked stunning in a black tuxedo and midnight blue necktie. His cheeks were clean-shaven, whereas every time she’d seen him at the café, he’d sported a five o’clock shadow. The previous morning, he’d been even scruffier. His short brown hair was smoothed forward with pomade.
“Good evening, mademoiselle,” he greeted smoothly.
“Good evening,” she replied a little meekly.
“Right this way to your table, sir, ma’am.” The maître d’ motioned across the crowded room and took the lead.
Dirk placed a warm hand on Alma’s lower back to indicate that she should follow. Their destination was a white clothed table near the window with a breathtaking view of Rowes Wharf. Boats on the water were lit up like Christmas trees. Dirk pulled her chair out.
Alma sat uncertainly. She’d been to plenty of nice restaurants with perfectly pleasant men, but not once had a gentleman helped her with her chair. Dirk passed his empty glass to the maître d’ and sat down. His calm demeanor told her fancy restaurants with beautiful women was commonplace for him. The thought made her strangely confident. If he could act natural and composed here, then so could she.
“How are those papers coming?” he asked. His deep voice cut through the rabble in the restaurant.
The look she shot him was of confusion.
“The test papers,” he clarified. “From yesterday.”
“Oh, yeah. They’re okay. About the typical divide between brilliant answers and BS ramblings.”
Dirk laughed. “Sounds about right. I remember college. Unfortunately, I think I was more of the ‘BS rambling’ sort.”
“At MIT? I didn’t know they allowed riffraff like that.” Her eyes twinkled with humor.
“Sure. They’ll allow anyone who pays tuition.”
“I’m sure you didn’t just ‘pay tuition’ in order to get a position with the Navy,” she pressed.
He shrugged modestly.
“What do you think of Clive Cussler so far?” she asked, abruptly changing the subject.
“Excellent! Entertaining, scientifically stimulating, historically refreshing. Right up my alley. Thanks for the recommendation!”
She smiled in response as a waitress appeared.
“What can I bring you to drink?”
Dirk glanced at his date. “Do you mind?”
She shook her head.
“We’ll have a bottle of the 2010 Musella, please. And the sea scallops to start.”
“Yes, sir.” The black and white clad waitress hurried away.
Alma raised her brow. “You seem to know the menu pretty well.”
The thick book-style menu was still closed on the table.
He grinned sheepishly. “I have a confession.”
She steeled herself. Here it was, the aberration behind this otherwise apparently brilliant, handsome gentleman. He was probably some weirdo who took out a different woman every night. Hell, maybe he took home a different woman every night.
“I got here early to peruse the menu and pick the table I wanted to share with you. The bartender recommended the scallops and wine pairing.”
Alma practically laughed out loud. “You’re kidding?” she blurted.
He looked put out by her reaction.
“Oh, my God! I’m sorry! It’s just…”
He raised a brow, waiting. Those emerald eyes had turned the same shade as the sea.
Her voice softened. “It’s just…that seems so…so…” Now that she’d made the comparison of his eyes to the sea, she was distracted. Clearing her throat, she managed to finish the thought. “…so thoughtful.”
With a wash of relief, he blinked and the distracting sea green brightened to coral. ‘Stop comparing him to the ocean,’ Alma ordered her mind.
“’Thoughtful’,” he mused. “Well, I do tend to strive for a thoughtful disposition, especially when it comes to my date.”
His possessive statement made her blush. The wine arrived at the same instant. The waitress splashed an ounce in Dirk’s glass and waited for his nod of approval to pour a glass for Alma.
“To a thoughtful and delightful evening,” Alma toasted.
Dirk smiled, forgiving her analysis of him, and clinked glasses with her.
They talked books through the appetizer course, complimenting the bartender’s recommendation of scallops. The waitress returned for their main course order.
Dirk opened his mouth, but Alma cut him off. “Do you mind?”
He grinned and sat back in his chair with a wave of a hand. He watched her steely eyes glance over the menu quickly before she ordered two contrasting dishes and passed the menus to the waitress.
“Tell me more about growing up on Puget Sound. Did you hitch rides to Seattle on porpoises? Swim with seals? Fish for mermaids?”
“I wish!”
“You said your father’s a fisherman?”
She tilted her head back and forth. “He is now. He was an oceanographer with NOAA. When he retired, he and my mom and I fixed up my grandfather’s troller that had been in dry dock for years and he trolls more as a hobby in retirement.”
“And your mother? She’s a…marine engineer?” he guessed.
She laughed. “No. Not quite. A veterinarian.”
“A marine veterinarian?”
“Nope. Just a regular small animal vet. Although, it wasn’t entirely unheard of to see an otter recuperating in our bathtub or a sea bird lounging in the garage.”
Dirk chuckled, a deep sound of joy that automatically made Alma want join in. “So, an oceanographer and a veterinarian…the perfect combination to foster the interests of a budding marine biologist.”
She shrugged and took a sip of wine. “And you, Dirk? What did you do as a child in landlocked Montana? I can only imagine your exploits in Yellowstone and Glacier.”
“Ah. The over-advertised aspects of Montana,” he mused. “My family had a cattle ranch on the plains. My trips to the national parks were few and far between.”
“A cattle ranch? Do you ride horses?” She leaned forward in interest. Clad now in a spotless tuxedo, she couldn’t even imagine him in a dusty cowboy hat and Levis. ‘Although,’ she thought, ‘I wouldn’t mind trying.’ She quickly chastised herself lest her thoughts creep out. It wouldn’t do for him to know just how attracted she was to him. And she found herself growing more interested as they conversed.
“I did,” he answered with a half smile. “I haven’t ridden since I was a teenager.”
Her expression begged an explanation.
“When I was sixteen, my dad died in a freak accident. My mom sold the ranch and moved to town.”
Alma’s face fell in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
Dirk shrugged nonchalantly. “It was a long time ago.”
“So your mom moved to ‘town’. Billings?” She searched her memory for another noteworthy town she could remember from high school geography and came up empty.
He grinned as if he knew her struggle. “No. Chinook. It’s within a stone’s throw of the Canadian border.”
“Are you close with your mom?” She quickly put up a hand and apologized. “I’m sorry. That was personal.”
Dirk smiled gently. “No, we’re not close. She remarried. She’s pretty involved with her new husband and step-children. I rarely see her.”
“And you’re an only child?”
He nodded and finished his glass of wine. He lifted the bottle and motioned to her glass. She nudged it toward him to top off and watched as the red liquid filled his own.
“Do you have any siblings?”
“Nope. Only child, as well.”
Their meal arrived. Filet mignon was placed in front of Dirk and his mouth watered. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a delectable steak. Alma’s Atlantic salmon looked equally tasty.
“Did you do this on purpose?” he asked, motioning to the dishes.
She raised a brow, asking him to clarify as she chewed.
“Steak for the land lubber over here and fish for the ocean professor?”
She smiled mischievously. “You’re quite the detective,” she teased.
Dirk laughed. “Very clever, doctor.”
As they ate, Dirk asked her more about her research, delving into questions that surprised her. They were thoughtful and informed. He’d done more than just read her paper, she surmised.
Finally, both the wine and entrees were gone. The waitress asked if they’d like dessert.
“I was thinking coffee for dessert. I know a place on the water over by the aquarium.”
Alma felt a wave of relief at extending her time with him. She was thoroughly enjoying their intellectual discussions, interspersed with personal tidbits, not to mention the view across the table. “That sounds great.”
The waitress placed the check on the edge of the table, midway between the place settings. They both reached for it.
“No way,” Dirk insisted. “I invited you. That means I get the check.”
“No, no,” she argued. “I insist.” She tugged on the book that contained the receipt, but he wouldn’t let go. With a frown, she said, “Fine. Halfsies.”
“What kind of gentleman allows his date ‘halfsies’?” he scoffed.
“The one that dates me,” she countered confidently.
Sensing an underlying determination he’d not noticed before, and certainly not willing to risk losing her company, Dirk conceded. They provided two credit cards and signed the receipts.
While Dirk replaced his card in his wallet, Alma stared out the window at the wharf. She noticed a dark clad man standing under a streetlamp across the way, gazing at the restaurant, specifically the window that Dirk sat beside. While she watched, his head turned and he met her eyes with a menacing gaze. She flinched at the chill it caused.
“Are you alright?” Dirk asked in concern.
