He adored the little dimple in her left cheek. “You can say no, you know. My feelings won’t be hurt. Well, maybe a little, but I’ll get over it. Eventually. But I’ve got Chef Boyardee and a fully functional can opener. I’ll be fine.”
“It’s too late to weasel out now. The idea’s in my head. You’re . . . entertaining, if nothing else, and I could use a laugh.”
“Whew. Stop flattering me,” he said, fanning his face. “Really. It’s too much.”
A spontaneous invitation, a casual acceptance. A little flirting but no expectations. No pressure.
He liked this.
They were in his car, on their way to Sunset Bay. There was a place overlooking the bay that boasted buck-a-shuck oysters and ale that he’d been wanting to try since his arrival. But he still hadn’t gotten used to dining out alone.
He glanced at Haylee in the passenger seat.
She’d changed her jeans and fluffed her hair.
“Sorry again about the—” Haylee paused to search for words. “Pink crayon incident.”
“Pink crayon? I was thinking indecent assault.”
“Don’t make light of a serious issue.”
The color high in her cheeks made him smile. She wasn’t someone who suffered overmuch from the opinions of others, but she took a lot of pride in her work.
“I’m not. He’s a dog. You have nothing to apologize about.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with him. It’s Jamie’s fault he’s here.”
“You guys are close?”
“You could say that.” Haylee sighed. “Though she drives me crazy some days.”
He guessed that each of them would walk through fire to save the other, if necessary. He admired that. He envied that. It was rare in a friendship. Hell, not all marriages could boast such loyalty.
Not even all families.
“She seems like an interesting person.”
“She is.” Haylee looked out the passenger window, shading her eyes against the sunlight. “Smart, pretty, sassy, tough. I say go for it. You’ve already bonded over literature. I’ll sing at the wedding.”
“You’re jealous.”
It was a random shot, so he was surprised to see it hit the mark.
She snorted. “Jamie and her fancy tattoo,” she muttered.
A bolt of satisfaction shot through him. She put on such a tough act that it was pleasantly surprising to realize she wasn’t as in control as she pretended to be.
“Truth is,” he said, “recognizing that Atwood quote was a random thing. I don’t read a lot—one of my many failings, I’ve been told—but when I do, it’s generally not the intellectual stuff. The last literary work I read was full of dead Irish babies, eviction, drunkenness, poverty, more dead Irish babies, beatings, potato soup, another eviction, ad nauseum. That was it for me. I see enough depressing endings at work. I’ve no need for it in my off hours.”
He hadn’t meant it to come out the way it did.
For a while they drove in silence.
“So would you say,” said Haylee, “that you were burnt by Angela’s Ashes?”
A laugh burst out of his throat. “You’ve read it?”
“Yes. I wanted to stab myself in the eye by the end.”
“When I read a book, I want the bad guys caught and the world saved. I want good to win over evil and love to conquer all. Professors who assign books like that should include a prescription for antidepressants.”
Haylee made a grunt of assent but didn’t comment.
He slowed to turn into the parking lot of the restaurant. “Sorry, Haylee. Did I say something wrong?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head, sending the golden curls dancing around her jaw. Then she sighed.
“Jamie got her GED in juvie. It’s no secret, she tells everyone. It’s also a point of pride for her. First in her family to graduate high school.” She hesitated. “I got my GED when I was twenty. In case stuff like that matters to you.”
Her chin was up and she kept her eye on the scenery outside her window. She’d obviously defended herself on this before.
“Only if it matters to you,” he said, finally, unsure of the right response.
“Just wanted to be upfront about it. We’re very different people, Aiden.” They got out of the car and walked up to the patio, where a hostess brought them to the last available seaside table. Twinkling lights were strung along the railing and he hoped they’d be there long enough to see them against the dark of the water. It appeared that the dinner rush was just beginning.
“We’ll start with oysters,” he said before the waiter had even given them menus. They chose their drinks, Haylee ordering the same dark ale he’d already decided on.
“See?” he said. “We have more in common than you think.” He decided to push a little further. “Is that where you and Jamie met? In juvie?”
“No way. I never got caught.” Haylee tilted her water glass in a mock toast, grinning at his expression. “Kidding. She came to the ranch as one of Olivia’s strays, same as me, only I got here a decade before her.”
“But you and Olivia are family, right? I thought she was your aunt.”
Haylee nodded. “There’s born family and there’s chosen family.”
“So you’re born and Jamie’s chosen.”
Haylee thought for a moment. “I’m both, I guess. Olivia stepped up when I needed her, even though she and my dad hadn’t been close for years. It was similar with Jamie, even though there’s no blood tie, and now, she’s kind of like my little sister. I get to criticize her as much as I want but I’ll punch out anyone else who does.”
Over in the corner, a kid shouted and was quickly shushed by his parents.
“Then I’m really glad I said I liked her,” said Aiden.
The waitress interrupted to set tall glasses of rich, dark ale brimming over with creamy froth, in front of each of them. “This will be wonderful with your oysters,” said the girl with a big, tip-friendly smile, before turning with a flare of her tip-friendlier short skirt.
“To making good choices,” said Haylee, with a twinkle in her eyes.
He clinked his glass to hers. “To not getting punched out.”
She took a deep drink, licked her top lip, and set her glass down with a sigh.
“Actually, I was pretty privileged, as a kid. At least, compared to Jamie. I grew up on the East Coast, not rich but comfortable. I’d never have met her, or even Olivia for that matter. But things happen. Life takes you in places you never expected. You roll with it, right? I’m happy with who I am now, even though sometimes I need reminding.”
He examined the work-toned, wind-blown woman in front of him. “Sounds like there’s quite the story there. When am I going to hear it?” She shrugged. “We’ll see. Short version is, stuff happened and I ended up out here, with Olivia. Her first stray, in fact. Then, when I should have been graduating high school and going to college, other stuff happened. The end, roll credits, applause.”
Aiden leaned forward, elbows on the table, his fingers a basket for his chin. “Fascinating. Stuff happened. I feel like I was there. Thank you for trusting me with your deepest secrets, Haylee.”
She tilted her head, a cocky smile on her face. “If I recall correctly, we’re here to discuss your history, not mine. I was being generous. Now it’s your turn.”
Her blond curls lifted in the breeze to dance around her cheekbones. Her eyes echoed the clear blue of the Pacific behind her. She was a mermaid, a selkie, a siren beckoning him to dash himself open on the rocks.
“In the spirit of sharing,” said Aiden, “I too had stuff happen. Now I have nightmares.”
“And day-mares?”
“Sure, that’s as good a word as any. I hear a warm heart and a wagging tail may cure me. What do you think?”
The waitress appeared again, carrying a galvanized serving tray. Raw oysters on the half shell nestled in crushed ice, surrounded by lemon slices and containers of hot sauce
, seafood sauce, and vinaigrette.
“Lovely, thank you,” said Aiden. “Haylee, you first.”
“Oh, no,” she said. “I don’t eat raw oysters.”
He looked at her. “Then why did you let me order them?”
“Who am I to stop you? Enjoy. I’ll watch.”
“A lesson in dating protocol, is that it? Men don’t order for ladies? Or are you scared of eating oysters with me because of their aphrodisiac qualities?”
Haylee leaned back in her chair, amused. “No such thing. I’m not a lady, and this isn’t a date, so no, no, and no. A lesson in assumptions, perhaps. Shall we get back to business? About those nightmares.”
Aiden lifted the first delicate shell from the ice. It still had bits of sea moss clinging to the edge. His mouth watered at the rich, briny aroma, icy-cold and biting. Maybe the legendary effect of oysters was more powerful in story than in fact, but now that she’d reminded him of it, he was not going to eat them alone. Bad optics.
“You’re chicken.” He squeezed a few drops of lemon juice onto the oyster. Then a dash of hot sauce. Then he looked at Haylee, lifted the shell to his lips, and tipped it, letting the slippery morsel glide from its watery bed onto his tongue.
He chewed and swallowed, moaning with pleasure, watching her watch him, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted. He could see the rise and fall of her chest, the movements of her throat. A pink flush touched her chest. The sun? Or something else?
Aphrodisiac, one.
Haylee, zero.
He licked his fingertips. “Salty like the sea, soft as a woman’s lips, satisfying as sex. There’s nothing like it, Haylee.”
The flush spread upward to her cheeks. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“You look warm. Would you like to come sit in the shade, beside me, while I initiate you into the joy of buck-a-shuck? Who knows, we might find a pearl.”
“I’m fine right here,” she snapped, brushing the back of her hand over her forehead. “And I see no need to try something I already know I won’t like.”
“How can you live on the coast and not like oysters?”
“Easy,” she said. “They’re slimy, mushy, raw, and I don’t need to justify my tastes, anyway. Besides, I didn’t grow up here so I guess I never developed a taste.”
She took a sip of her beer. He’d made her uncomfortable and he liked it. He’d been on the losing end of the comfort scale since the moment they’d met, and he was eager to adjust that balance.
“But now you’re an intrepid adult, with courage seeping from every pore, never backing down from a challenge. Try one.”
He held the shell out to her. She pressed her lips together like a sulky child refusing her peas.
“No? Then I guess this one’s for me, too.” With exaggerated motions, he tipped the second oyster to his lips. “Now we’re down to six, my friend. Your window of opportunity is closing.”
“I never opened it.” She gave a little silent laugh, as if indulging a child, then lifted her chin. “Listen, Aiden, you were going to explain your experiences so that I can help choose the right dog for you. You have nightmares, you said. I’m guessing panic attacks, too? Do you know what your main stressors are? Your triggers? You mentioned you had a hard time with the case of the kids in the car accident. Were you injured in a car accident yourself? Is that what started it all?”
Aiden looked over her shoulder out to the sea. White-tipped waves rolled lazily into the long stretch of sandy beach. To the right was the rocky outcropping where they’d met the first night.
“You really need all that information, huh?”
“Need, want,” she said. “It’s a fine line. The more, the better, I’ve found.”
She thought she was in the driver’s seat and he hated that she was right. But it wasn’t easy to admit that at least three nights each week began with him lying, staring at the ceiling, and ended with him thrashing awake at three or four in the morning, sweaty, gasping, and sometimes weeping.
“I don’t sleep well,” he said, finally.
“Yup, nightmares, we’ve established that,” said Haylee. “Why? How? Details, Dr. Mac.”
“Are the oysters not to your liking?” asked the waitress, with a concerned glance at the mostly full platter.
“They’re wonderful,” said Aiden. “We’re going slow tonight, that’s all.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” said the girl, pressing a hand to her throat. “You had me worried. Of course, take all the time you need! Give me a wave when you’re ready to order your mains, okay?”
“We’re going slow?” said Haylee. “What if I’m impatient?”
“Then you’ll want to help me with the oysters, so we can get to the rest of our meal.”
She put her hands palm-down on the table. “I’m not sharing your oysters.”
Aiden cleared his throat. He needed to talk, yes. But she needed to give a little too.
“One oyster, one answer.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “This isn’t a negotiation. You came to me for help. Why should I have to work for any of this?”
“Because you’re intrigued,” he said. “Because you’re torn between liking me and thinking I’m an escapee from the loony bin. Because I’m knocked off balance by what’s happening to me and I don’t like asking for help and it would make things a lot easier for me if you’d just give me one small win and eat a damn oyster.”
She lifted her eyebrows and for a second, all the humor disappeared from their sparring and banter.
“You wanted honesty, there it is. I hate talking about this, Haylee.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice, looking down at his clasped hands. “I hate that you’ve seen . . . what you’ve seen. A lot of therapists have sifted through the muck inside my head and none of them have made a goddamn difference. Tell me why I should go through it again with a dog trainer.”
He felt that they’d inadvertently stumbled into a relationship of strange and unwanted intimacy. Did she feel it too? How much easier would it have been if they’d met in a bar and gone back to his place for a night of undemanding sex?
But even that didn’t work anymore. He’d dated a few times after Michelle left, but waking up in the grip of terror had been bad enough when the woman beside him shared that pain; with strangers, it was intolerable. His dates had seemed to share that opinion, according to the lamplit horror he’d seen on their faces.
But Haylee wasn’t Michelle and while they might be flirting, they were not dating. She’d made that clear.
When he looked up, he saw that Haylee’s eyes had softened, brightened. He gritted his teeth. The last thing he wanted was her pity. He’d had plenty of that, mostly from himself these days, and it was a gateway emotion, a temporary high that only led to further self-loathing.
“Thank you, Aiden,” she said. She reached out and covered his hand with hers. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”
Instinctively he gripped the ends of her fingers, and she tightened her grasp in return, sending warmth bolting up his arm, racing around dusty corners to creep under the locked door of his cold heart.
Then she took a deep breath and looked at the platter. “So. Raw oysters. Where do I start?”
Chapter Eleven
“The Hansen hospitality made us feel like family. The sunset view from atop the mountains, while on horseback, is practically a spiritual experience.”
—A Google user
At one time in Haylee’s life when things had been particularly bleak, and she herself had not been sleeping, she’d spent a weekend binge-watching two seasons of Grey’s Anatomy, all the Ocean’s movies, and everything she could find with Hugh Jackman in it.
Watching Aiden McCall eat oysters was better than all of those put together. That growl of appreciation in the back of his throat set something humming way deep in her belly. He pushed the slimy shellfish into his mouth with long, graceful fingers, nothing squeamish or finicky about him. An emergency doctor shouldn’t be sque
amish, of course, but they worked with gloves on, a thin layer of latex keeping them at a distance from their subjects.
The fact that he didn’t seem to suffer from the typical surgeon God complex wasn’t hurting him. His PTSD should have been a black mark against him—and it was, she wasn’t an idiot—but his naked desire to be free of it, his honesty in admitting his weakness and fear of revealing any more than she’d already seen, melted her heart.
The kid shrieked from a few tables away and Haylee glanced over. Cute boy, towheaded and chubby, laughing at something his father had drawn on a napkin. A similar, smaller version sat in the woman’s lap, drooling and gumming a hunk of bread.
“I hope they leave a good tip,” she said.
To her surprise, Aiden’s eyes were locked on the family. His shoulders hunched forward tensely and a muscle in his jaw twitched. He rubbed the top of his thumb with his forefinger.
“What?” she said. “Do you know them?”
He flinched as if startled.
“No. Not at all.”
“What’s the matter? Don’t you like kids?”
“What? No. I love kids. Who doesn’t?”
“People in restaurants without kids, usually.”
His eyebrows went up and the haunted look faded.
“I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking,” she added hastily. “Live and let live. And if you take your kids out to dinner with you, tip your waitstaff generously.”
He smiled and turned his attention back to the oysters. Whatever had come over him was gone. “You want hot sauce?”
“Make it however you like to eat them,” she said.
Aiden licked a drop of sauce off his finger, a man unafraid to indulge his appetites, and Haylee found her own mouth watering in response. Not for oysters though. He needed a confessor, of sorts, and if she had to suck back some slimy invertebrate to help him out, well, she was a giving sort of person. He dressed the oyster and held it up but when she reached for it, he pulled back.
“Let me walk you through this, okay? It’s your first time and I want it to be great.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m an oyster virgin, I get it.”
Sunset Bay Sanctuary Page 13
