One Lucky Bastard

by Abby Wood

  She followed Mick out of the restaurant. He kept his distance and didn’t lay a hand on her. After escorting her into the car, he climbed in and drove.

  “Can I explain?”

  “I think your actions are enlightening me enough.” His fingers turned white on the steering wheel. “I asked you to let go of your apartment, make the commitment to our relationship, and you lied. Half the time we’re with your friends, you’re more concerned about what they think than letting it all go—”

  “It’s not like that.” She threw up her hands.

  He slammed a palm down on the wheel. “Are you denying that you’re letting your friend stay at your apartment, but kept the apartment in your name?”

  “No.”

  “Did you not lead me to believe you had moved into my house with the intent to make our relationship permanent—forever?” He downshifted and pulled onto their street.

  “Knock it off, Mick. I’m not on trial here. Let me explain.” She reached over and put her hand on his leg, but he shoved it away.

  Neither one of them spoke the rest of the way home. Following him into the house, she wanted to explain her reasoning, but everything she came up with sounded pathetic to her own ears.

  Mick stalked off upstairs, and Debbie sank down on the couch. Grabbing the folded blanket, she hugged it to her chest. I will not cry. He’ll calm down, and I’ll try to explain why I did it.

  Chapter Nine

  Thunk.

  Mick stood in front of the couch with two suitcases sitting at his feet. “I’ll have the rest of your things boxed and delivered to your apartment tomorrow.”

  She ran her hands over her face and sat up. “What are you talking about?” She glanced at the clock. “Oh God, I fell asleep.”

  “I told you from day one that I expected honesty and one hundred percent of you in this relationship.” He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his slacks. “I’m not willing to receive anything less.” His upper lip twitched. “You’ll have no problem making the adjustment. You have an apartment to go back to.”

  “Mick, wait—” She flung off the blanket and stood up.

  He stepped back and acted as if the mere thought of her touching any part of him turned his stomach. “Go home, Debbie” He turned his back to her and walked off.

  “Mick?”

  He stopped but refused to turn around. She swallowed.

  “I love you.”

  He nodded. “You’re in love with the idea of a relationship with me, but for how much you try to convince yourself you want a relationship with someone more mature and stable…you have a lot of growing up to do.”

  Her jaw dropped. Mick walked over to the door, opened it, and hurried over to climb the stairs. His words cut deep and left her wounded. It wasn’t true. She loved him.

  The bedroom door slammed. She flinched. Ignoring the tears falling down her cheeks, she put her coat on and picked up her suitcases.

  Mick was wrong. She didn’t need to grow up. He did.

  * * *

  “Ms. Kordall, Ms. Kordall!”

  Debbie glanced down and found Jeremy tugging her pant leg. Squatting, she smiled. “Yes, sweetie?”

  “I got to go to the baffroom.” He danced in place. “Bad.”

  “Let’s go, champ.” She hurried him out of the classroom, across the hall, and pushed him through the door. “I’ll be right here. Don’t forget to wash your hands.”

  She leaned against the wall and rubbed her head. Fifteen minutes and she could go home. She needed a couple of aspirin in the worst way.

  The classroom door to the preschool room opened. She lifted her head. The aftereffects of the last snack break finally showed up going by how much noise the hyperactive children were making.

  “Clear the area. We’ve got an emergency.” Juanita held a little boy tucked under her arm. “Everyone stand back. There’s a plane coming in for landing.”

  Tucker’s arms stuck straight out at his sides, and after touching the ground, he flew into the restroom. She smiled. Cute kid.

  “Hey, you all right?” Juanita collapsed beside her. “You’re looking awful droopy.”

  “Headache.” She touched her temple. “Nothing a couple of pills and a bath won’t cure.”

  “It’s Friday. Why don’t you cut out early? I’ll take the kids back to the room.” Juanita patted her arm. “You’ve had a hell of a week. You deserve some pampering. I’m going out with the gang tonight, so you’ll have the place to yourself.”

  “Thanks, Juanita.” She hugged her friend.

  After grabbing her purse and coat, she headed out to her car. Her cell phone rang, and she hurried to find it in her bag. Flipping it open, she hurried to press the call button.

  “Mom?” She threw her stuff on the hood of the car. “Everything okay with you and Dad?”

  “Of course, sweetie. I’m calling to check up on you.” Her mom paused. “Have you talked to Mick?”

  “No.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “The more I think about it, the madder I am. He had no right to shut me out and not allow me to explain my side. He claimed I needed to grow up.” She snorted. “It’s not like he’s acting very mature at the moment either.” She blew her bangs off her face. “I just don’t understand how we went from wonderful to not even talking.”

  “Honey, you need to listen to how you’re talking. I don’t think Mick is the only one who jumped to conclusions.” Her mom sighed. “I know it’s hard when your feelings are so tender, but…”

  Debbie sighed. “Deep down, I know that.” She sniffed. “Oh, Mom, I had no idea it would hurt this bad. I never meant to hurt him. I thought I was doing the right thing, but Mick was right. I should have trusted him and the love we shared together.”

  Silence came over the phone. “Mom, you still there?”

  “Yes, Deb.” Static sounded in her ear. “Honey, hang on. Your dad is yelling from the other room that he wants to speak with you.”

  She dug through her purse, found her keys, and unlocked the driver’s-side door. After tossing her things inside, she sat down in the driver’s seat and then shut the door. Now that her mom and dad had discovered the pleasures of traveling, she couldn’t just pop in on them at their house and discuss her problems whenever she wanted. She missed having everyday interactions with her parents.

  “Sweetheart?”

  “Hi, Daddy.” Deb smiled. “How’s your vacation going?”

  “Good, but I’m anxious to come back and see you. I’m worried about you.”

  “I’ll be okay.” She sniffed. Hearing her dad’s voice was comforting, and she’d love to receive one of his big bear hugs. He had a way about him that solved all her problems. “It hurts. I love him, Dad.”

  “Then go talk to him.” Her dad chuckled. “Did I ever tell you about the time your mother threatened to have her older brothers beat me up?”

  She wiped her eyes. “No.”

  “Evie got mad because she thought I was trying to control her.” He scoffed. “I was, but that’s beside the point.”

  Debbie shook her head. “You two are made for each other, Dad.”

  “What I want to say is…I acted that way because I was afraid of losing her.” Frank Kordall cleared his throat. “In my head, I figured that if I could dictate our lives, I’d keep her with me forever. Fear of losing someone you love plays havoc with the way you act sometimes.”

  “What did you do?” She pinched the bridge of her nose to keep the tears at bay.

  “I didn’t do anything. Evie came back to me a couple of days later and demanded we talk it out. The smartest thing she ever did, because it gave this ol’ fart a chance to make it up to her for my insecurities. Age doesn’t always bring wisdom.”

  Debbie leaned her head back on the headrest and closed her eyes. “You think I should apologize?’

  “Is the split-up your doing, Deb?”

  She swallowed. “Yeah.”

  “You do what makes you happy, sweetheart. I just wan
ted you to realize that even men who are supposed to have more maturity in a relationship will often screw up in an effort to protect themselves from getting hurt. I know I’ve done it. It’s human nature, and something I’m sure everyone does at one point or another in life.” He smooched into the phone. “You know we both love you, and no matter what, we’re here if you need us.”

  “I love you too.” More tears fell. “Bye, Daddy. Give Mom a kiss.”

  She tossed the phone over on the passenger seat. Her stomach flipped. She missed Mick so much. Life wasn’t the same without him. She wanted their long conversations into the night, the way he took care of everything, and she missed cuddling with him after making love. They could work this out. She only needed to apologize, and Mick would see that they had both acted out of fear.

  Debbie slipped her seat belt around her and started the car. Looking over her shoulder to enter traffic, she made up her mind. Tomorrow morning she’d make Mick listen to her and beg him to take her back.

  * * *

  Rain splattered the dock at Mick’s feet, and he heaved his bag onto the yacht. He hurried on board, picked up his things, and climbed down the stairs to the bedroom. He looked forward to battling the water on his trip and hoped the storm continued. With his life in shambles, taking control of the thirty-six-foot boat would take his mind off going on this trip alone.

  He kicked his bag off to the side, opened the liquor cabinet, and pulled out a half-filled bottle of the finest whiskey. Skipping the shot glass, he lifted his arm and swallowed a healthy drop. He planned to get stone drunk tonight and worry about the trip tomorrow, when it was time to shove off and leave his life with Debbie behind.

  “Argh!” He squeezed his eyes shut and let the warmth burn away the knot in his stomach.

  He mourned the loss of finding someone so perfect for him and sending her away. He damned the way she wasn’t able to give up her independence and rely on him, to trust him. Lifting the bottle, he drank a healthier dose. He closed his eyes for a moment and wished for numbness to wash over him.

  It didn’t come. It never would. He’d lost her.

  Sitting in the same position on the edge of the bed, he chugged back another swallow, grimaced, and hung his head. “Damn her.”

  Chapter Ten

  Debbie languished in bed, half caught up in an erotic dream involving Mick, and wondering what the hell was making that banging noise. She threw off her covers, grabbed her robe, and marched out to the living room.

  Juanita and Barb stood in the kitchen talking to Doreen, and Ali, who taught down at the preschool with them. She frowned. “What’s going on, guys? A little early to wake someone up, huh?”

  “Sorry!” Juanita threw her arm around Doreen. “We just got home, and I had this wonderful idea to make my best friends in the whole wide freaking world pancakes for breakfast.” She let go of Doreen and hurried over to Debbie. “That.” She poked Debbie in the chest. “Includes.” Juanita grabbed her cheeks and kissed her full on the lips. “You!”

  “You’re drunk.” Debbie wiggled away.

  “Why…yes, I am.” Juanita swayed back into the kitchen.

  Debbie plopped down on the sofa and rubbed her hands over her face. She might as well stay up. No way would she get back to sleep now.

  Laying her head back, she turned her neck from one side to the other, straightened with a jerk, and came off the couch. “Oh my God. What time is it?”

  She hurried over to read the clock on the oven. “Shit.”

  “What’s wrong?” Barb caught her arm, stopping her.

  “I’ve got to go find Mick.” She yanked her arm away and scurried into the bedroom. “I’m going to tell him I’m sorry,” she yelled.

  A round of cheers broke out in the other room. Debbie dressed, grabbed her purse, and headed back out to the living room to find her boots. She didn’t want to go another day without Mick, and the sooner she begged him to take her back, the better.

  “Here!” Juanita handed her boots to her and pushed her down on the sofa.

  Barb sat down on the couch beside her, grabbed her leg, and helped her pull one of her boots on. “You’ve finally come to your senses.” She patted Debbie’s leg. “You go, girlfriend.”

  Debbie paused and turned to her friend. “What do you mean? It seemed like you only tolerated him for my benefit and were against our relationship from the start. Remember all the old-person jokes you threw my way?”

  Her friend’s scoffed. “Are you crazy?” Barb leaned over and bumped her with her shoulder. “We like Mick well enough, but more important, he made you happy, so he can’t be that bad of a guy. You can’t fault your friends for trying to convert you to younger men, can you?”

  “Yeah, for a senior citizen and AARP member, he’s decent.” Juanita grinned. “It’s not like you have to stay home with him when we all go out. You’re strong enough to push his wheelchair so he can come dancing with us too.”

  “You guys are pathetic when you’ve been drinking.” Deb wrinkled her nose. “It sure would have been easier”—she paused to tuck in her shirt—”if you had told me how you really felt earlier into the relationship. I thought you guys believed he was a pervert.”

  A chorus of nos filled the room. She swallowed. “I’ve been stupid.”

  “No. You’ve been human. Now go get your man.” Barb pushed her toward the door.

  “Here’s your purse.” Doreen held out the oversize bag. “Good luck.”

  She laid a hand on her stomach. “Oh God. What if he doesn’t take me back? What if I totally blew it and he tells me to go away? I was a major jerk.” She paced in front of her friends. “Immature, selfish, spoiled, angry—”

  “You love him.” Juanita folded her arms across her stomach, and her face tightened. “I’m suddenly not feeling too well either.”

  Barb stood up and wrapped her arm around Juanita. “Go, Deb. Tell him you love him. He won’t be able to turn you away. You’re irresistible.” She glanced down at Juanita, who gagged. “Ugh, we’ll take care of her. Go. Go.”

  Fifteen minutes later she pulled up to Mick’s house. All the lights were out, and the drapes pulled. Maybe she should have called him first. She tapped her hand against the steering wheel. No. If she stood on his doorstep and refused to leave until he heard her out, he’d have to listen to what she had to say.

  Before she lost her nerve, she left her vehicle and ran through the rain to the front door. She pushed the doorbell, shook the drops from her hair, and took a deep breath. The chime of the bell sounded inside.

  Debbie shifted back and forth on her feet. “Come on. Come on. Answer the door.”

  She mentally counted to thirty and rang the bell again. What if he looked out one of the windows, spied her car, and refused to come to the door? No, he wouldn’t. Would he?

  She rifled through her purse in search of the key chain with a gold heart that Mick gave her the night she moved in. She’d forgotten to return the house key when she left. Her hands shook, and she struggled to fit the key in the lock.

  “Mick?” She peeked inside the house. “Mick?” she yelled a little louder, pushing the door open and stepping into the foyer.

  Not a sound filled the house. Running up the steps, she headed toward the bathroom, thinking she might have caught him in the shower. If that was the case, she’d go back out to her car and wait.

  Not finding Mick in the bathroom, she left the bedroom. She forced her feet to carry her back downstairs and out to her car. He’d never gone to the office on a weekend when she lived with him.

  “Think, Deb.” She sat down behind the steering wheel. “Where would he go?” She snorted. “God! Listen to me. I’ve gone insane, talking to myself, and my love for him has turned me into a stalker.”

  Debbie started the car, shifted the gear into drive and stopped. Returning the lever to the park position, she knew exactly how to find him. “Yes!”

  She grabbed her cell phone and pushed the button for Mick’s office. She inhale
d deeply and hoped this was one of the weekends his secretary was working.

  “Hello?” She sat up straighter. “Yes. Hello, may I speak with Mick Reed, please? It’s urgent that I get to speak with him today.” She forced herself to listen to the woman’s answer, thanked her, and threw the phone onto the passenger seat. Dammit.

  Mick planned to depart up the coast to his business meeting today. With no idea if he’d left or not, she pulled the shifter back into drive, floored the gas pedal, and headed for the marina. Please, please be there, Mick.

  * * *

  The waves crashed against the side of the yacht, and Mick’s body rolled back and forth on the bed. He grabbed the bedspread to stop the nauseating motion, but even moving that much killed his head. How much had he drunk, anyway?

  He lifted his head and squinted around the room in search of the whiskey bottle. Spying it on the chair, he groaned. Not a drop remained.

  The blast from an air horn sent him hurtling to his feet. He pressed his body against the cabinet and willed the bottom of his stomach to settle down. He’d slept too long. The fishing boats were already sailing out to sea.

  Working his way across the room, he braced himself against the counter and set about making a pot of coffee. Deciding a shower would help the hangover, he squeezed himself into the cubbyhole of a bathroom and turned on the water.

  Mick stepped into the shower stall without waiting for the hot water to arrive. Having to settle with using contained water on the yacht to bathe with, he could only afford to get wet, lather, rinse, and jump back out before the water turned cold.

  He turned on the forced-air heater and stood naked in front of the coffeemaker to air-dry while counting the minutes for the coffee to finish dripping. Debbie always brought him a cup of coffee in the morning because she knew how he hated to wait.

  The warm air took the chill out of the room, and he leaned over to grab a mug out of the rack. When he removed the pot, several drops of coffee spilled onto the hot plate causing the liquid to sizzle. The stench of burned coffee reached his nose.

  He lifted the cup to his lips, sipped, and flinched at the way the heat stung his mouth. The liquid gold soothed his body and gave him enough oomph to get dressed. He’d have to get his ass in gear if he planned to shove off this morning.