“The dogs won’t hurt you,” Mackenzie said. “They want to apologize for scaring you.”
Nathaniel shook his head, his brown eyes big as sand dollars. “Mom?”
Sable stirred in her arms. Jeanie stroked her daughter’s back, glad the child had stopped wailing. “It’s okay,” she said to both of them as she extended a hand to her son. “I’ll help you out of the van.”
“The dogs,” Nathaniel said, still clutching the phone.
“The dogs are inside the fence,” their owner said smoothly. “They won’t bother you.”
“I’m afraid.”
“I heard the dogs scared you the other day. I’m sorry about that, and they are too,” Mackenzie said. “We’d like to be friends.”
What was it with this man and wanting to be friends? Jeanie didn’t have time to sort it out. Not with Mr. Staley on his front porch across the square and her son staring at her with his trusting eyes.
“Is it all right, Mom?”
“It is,” she said reluctantly, but was sure to keep her reservations out of her voice. Better to get this mortifying scene over with as soon as possible so Mossy Bog could go back to minding its own business.
Nathaniel pressed the release on his safety strap and crept closer to the van door.
“Put the phone down,” Jeanie encouraged. Sable squirmed to get down, but Jeanie held tight. “You don’t need it. You’re safe.”
“For real?”
“For real.”
He chunked the phone into his car seat, grabbed Jeanie’s hand, and jumped down. Together they walked toward the gate.
“Nathaniel, Sable, this is Mr. Mackenzie.”
“Rock, please.”
Sable buried her face in Jeanie’s chest. Nathaniel stayed quiet.
“I’m sorry the dogs scared you.” Mackenzie squatted down to her son’s eye level.
“They have big teeth. They’re loud,” Nathaniel said.
“Do you ever jump on the bed when no one’s watching?” the man asked.
Nathaniel glanced at his shoes, then cast a quick, guilty glance Jeanie’s way before answering. “Maybe.”
Jeanie had to smile, and it looked as if the daunting Mr. Mackenzie might be hiding one, too. “That’s what the dogs were doing the other day, Nathaniel. They wanted to play, and they were talking to you in dog language. They were excited and running fast because they hoped you would play with them.”
“They were?”
“You’re their size. They like kids.” He hesitated. “They’d like to meet you.”
Nathaniel seemed torn. Jeanie’s heart went out to her son. He’d been through so much since Avery walked out. Was it asking too much of him to face his fear of these dogs?
“We could come back another day, if you like,” Jeanie said, trying to ease the pressure.
“Now. I want to do it now,” Nathaniel said, clutching her pants.
Mackenzie called the dogs over. He put his hand in the space between the fence slats, and a dog licked his hand. Jeanie knelt beside her son. “See? These are nice dogs.”
For a moment, she thought Nathaniel would bolt, but he extended his hand to the fence and the nearest dog licked his fingers. He laughed with delight and extended the other hand through the slats. Sable squirmed to get down, but Jeanie was less sure of her two-year-old’s restraint. Wouldn’t want one of the dogs to get swatted accidentally. She guided Sable’s chubby palm to the fence.
A dog with dark eyebrow-like spots licked their joined hands. Jeanie drew in a deep breath. Another hurdle crossed.
“Will they bark at us again if we walk by on the way to the park?” she asked as she stood, and was happy to note they no longer had an audience. No doubt the phone lines were burning up this very instant about the incident in the town square.
“They recognize your scent now and know you’re friends.”
Friends again. The man certainly was determined.
“Mom, can we get a dog?” Nathaniel asked, distracting her yet again.
“Maybe one day. We’ll talk about it later. But for now, can you wave goodbye to Mr. Mackenzie?” She shot him a grateful look and reached for her son’s hand. “Thanks for helping the kids with their fear of dogs. I appreciate that. We have to go.” Her voice mail would probably be filled with calls from inquiring minds.
“Not a problem. My pleasure.”
So the man had manners, she thought, as Nathaniel waved goodbye, then clambered into the van. An interesting contrast to his dangerous looks. She wondered what had put that glint of steel in his eye, what kind of work he did, how he’d acquired that buff bod. She was even more curious about what had put him in a sling and given him that fresh scar on his face.
What would it be like to date a man who lived on the edge? Would every day be a new adventure? Something long-dead stirred inside of her. Took her a moment to recognize the sensation for what it was. Desire. Like a teen, she was crushing on a complete stranger. Interesting. Impossible in real life, but a safe thing to daydream about. Even with a hurt arm, he’d be fun to kiss. All that controlled power …
They were a block away from the house when Nathaniel pulled her away from her fledgling fantasy by asking, “Is it later yet?”
“Hmm? What, honey?”
“Is it later yet? Can we get a dog?”
Jeanie sighed. “Like I said, sweetheart, maybe one day, but today...today we’re going home and doing the laundry.”
“Can I jump in the pile of clean clothes?”
Jeanie grinned. “Absolutely.”
****
At bedtime, Jeanie’s thoughts refused to settle. She tossed and turned, tangling the sheets, smashing the pillow. How nice it would be to lose herself in childlike joy, like the kids had, while playing with the unfolded laundry. How fine it would be to know she could pay her bills on time.
Once her no-good husband had left town, he’d never voluntarily paid a penny of child support. He’d squandered his entire inheritance from his father on another woman. Now he refused to return Jeanie’s calls. If not for her mom watching the kids for free, she’d be on welfare.
Damn you, Avery.
He’d come back exactly once to get his fishing poles and hunting rifle. How could he turn his back on his family? They’d been everything to him—until Her. Just like that, Shandy Herndon had crooked her finger at Avery, and he’d walked away from his good job with the cable company and lit out for a trailer park somewhere on the Outer Banks.
So much for commitment.
So much for love.
Chapter 4
“Call me Camilla,” the sturdy woman said. “Like the hurricane but with an A instead of an E. What can I do you for?”
Rock introduced himself to the woman who ran Mid-County Marina. On the phone, he hadn’t been sure of her gender because her voice was as gravely as any man’s and her diction somewhat murky. Plus, her buzzed head, wrinkled oxford shirt, cut-off camies, and combat boots didn’t exactly scream female. Not that he was judging. He met all kinds of people in his charter business.
Her firm handshake and shrewd eye told him all he needed to know about the dockmaster. She was on sentry duty.
Fair enough. He knew a thing or two about keeping watch. “I called this morning. About renting a boat for some fishing.”
The woman eyed him steadily. “You the guy at Lytham House?”
“I am.”
She nodded at his arm sling. “What happened?”
“I was in an accident up North Carolina way. Came down here to recover.”
“Must’ve been a heck of a deal. You got a limp, a fresh scar on your face, and you move like a rib or two got smacked.”
“Good eye.” He hesitated a minute then decided this was a test he wanted to pass. “My boat blew up in Pamlico Sound. I was a charter captain up there.”
Her lips puckered in distaste. “Never heard tell of a boat blowing up before. Plenty of them break down or run aground. How’d you manage that?”
“Wasn’t me that did it.”
“Oh.” Her mouth sealed into a waterproof line. “Trouble follow you south?”
“No. I’m here for R&R, and I miss being on the water. I brought my captain’s license certificate, and you can check up on me if you like. I can provide references.”
“Here’s the thing, Mackenzie. Nobody around here is interested in renting you a boat because they don’t know you. They don’t know your people.”
“I’ve got no people. My mom died of cancer a year ago. My dad died in a military training accident before I was born.” No need to mention what had happened to his squad in Afghanistan.
The dockmaster’s hawkish gaze softened. “You got nobody?”
God, he hated it when people looked at him with pity. “Coupla dogs. That’s it.”
The woman broke into a startling smile. “Got a coupla dogs, myself. Retired greyhounds. All right, then. You get me that license, and I’ll call to check you out right now.”
He’d put up with the pity today if it got him what he wanted. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”
Rock strode to his gleaming Ford F-250 Lariat to get the folder of papers he always carried behind the front seat. Inside were customer testimonials, his captain’s license, and a list of references he’d compiled. It might have been easier to buy a used boat than to rent one at this marina.
But as long as she called the numbers he’d provided, he’d be fine. He’d rather she didn’t call the cops. Twice in one week would just about destroy his efforts to blend in with the Mossy Bog population. Thirty minutes later, the woman had called every number he’d given her. He’d downed two sodas and sized the whole place up as the tide ebbed.
“You check out, Mackenzie,” she said. “Tell you what. You and me will take a jaunt in my boat. So I can see you in action. You mess this up and you won’t be able to rent a boat in the state of Georgia. You got that?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Information was power, and right now she had the power. She locked up the boathouse, put up a ‘back in thirty minutes’ sign, and ushered him down the gangplank to a shipshape Carolina Skiff.
For a heavyset woman, the dockmaster was light on her feet when she boarded her vessel. She claimed the captain’s chair so Rock went to work on the lines, deftly unwrapping them from the dock cleats with one hand. He climbed aboard once she started the engine.
To his surprise, she offered him the captain’s chair. “Take us out, skipper. Make it good.”
He’d studied the water charts, knew that the tidal creeks of the Georgia mainland wandered through salt marshes out to the sounds. Beyond the sounds were barrier islands and then the Atlantic Ocean. Piece of cake.
He smiled at her and lowered his sunglasses. “Aye, aye.”
Chapter 5
“I want gardenias,” the bride-to-be said, leaning over the cleared-off display table. Her folding chair squeaked. “I love their scent.”
Professional smile in place, Jeanie wrote down Melody’s request. She never disputed anything up front. The best thing was to get the entire wedding order down on paper and price things out. Some people could afford a big-ticket wedding.
Some could not.
“Mom’s not sure about this, but in addition to the bridal bouquet, I thought it would be cool to wear a matching garland around my head. What do you think? Is it too flower child?”
The client is always right. “A garland would be lovely. Let’s see, so far we have two arrangements for the altar, the crowning garland, a bridal bouquet, six bridesmaid bouquets, six boutonnieres for groomsmen, three more for fathers of the bride and groom, and five corsages for mothers and grandmothers.”
“Don’t forget the three arrangements for the reception tables. I want the entire place to smell like a gardenia bower.”
Closing her event folder, Jeanie gave Melody and her mom a crisp nod. “I’ll have a quote for you in a few days. I’m looking forward to helping make your wedding special.”
Gilda Clark rose from her folding chair and tugged at the wrinkles in her finely creased linen slacks. “Thanks, Jeanie.”
Moments later, they were gone. In blessed silence, Jeanie stowed the chairs and set out her vase collection on her display table. Her mom had the kids this afternoon so Jeanie had another hour to herself. She needed a treat after that two-hour bridezilla session.
She propped up the “Back in ten minutes” sign on her front door and headed for Mossy Bog Carryout. Donna was sunning her tummy at a picnic table when Jeanie drove up.
“Figured you’d be around this afternoon,” Donna said, sitting up and rolling her shirt down over her flat, tanned stomach. “The bride from hell run you ragged?”
Jeanie plopped down across from her friend. “She’s got expensive taste, I’ll grant you that.”
“I’m gonna refresh my iced tea. What can I get you?”
“Sweet tea sounds great and something chocolate.”
“Got a big chunk left of my Murder Cake. Come on in.”
Jeanie trailed her friend inside and fixed the teas while Donna cut two slices from a heavenly smelling chocolate cake. Jeanie’s mouth watered as they carried the snack outside to the picnic table. “I don’t know how you stay so slim. If I worked here, I’d weigh a ton. I couldn’t stay out of this cake. You ready to share the recipe yet?”
Donna laughed. “No way. I count on repeat business. That new fellow in town, he could eat a whole one of these.”
“Oh?” Jeanie said as she forked up a bite of Murder Cake. “You mean that Mackenzie guy?”
“Tall, blond, and delicious? Oh, yeah.”
“What have you found out about him?”
“Goes by the name of Rock and he’s not interested in dating me. I pretty much spelled out my interest in sweet potato fries. Maybe he’s gay.”
Jeanie frowned, considering. “I dunno. Yesterday when Nathaniel called the cops on him, he mentioned he wanted to be my friend about four times. I think he liked me, but it was hard to tell because of the sirens and Sable wailing.” Unless you counted his kindness in the face of having the police called on him by a four year old.
“He did look at me a time or two like he was interested in women.” She’d noticed, sure, but wasn’t in any kind of position to do anything about it, even if she wanted to. Besides, a man like that would be a wild ride. Not a home and hearth guy like she needed.
“Must be the pink spiky hair he likes,” Donna said, interrupting Jeanie’s wandering thoughts. “If I wasn’t a confident woman, I’d take this personally. First Megan gets Dave, then Roxie snags Sloan, and Laurie Ann catches Wyatt. I got nobody. Not even a nibble on the crabbing line.”
“I had Avery.” Jeanie let the icing’s rich sweetness take the sting out of her next words. “Except he didn’t want me.”
Her friend waved her fork in the air. “We all told you Avery wasn’t the settling down type. You’re lucky he stayed for five years.”
Jeanie rolled her eyes. “It felt real at the time, but that just goes to show how off my relationship meter is.”
“Ah, honey, don’t lose any more sleep over Avery. You’ll know when the right man comes along.” Donna swirled the iced tea around in her paper cup before taking a long sip. “That new guy sure does ask a lot of questions.”
“Who?” Jeanie set her fork down and leaned forward. “Mackenzie?”
“About the town. About the people here. Said he might open up a fishing charter business. Said he liked scuba diving. Wanted to know about the local economy.”
“Can’t he tell that by all the boarded-up buildings?”
Donna shrugged and ate the last bit of her cake. “He asked about The Muddy Rose.”
Jeanie’s pulse jumped. “You’re kidding. What did you tell him?”
“I told him the truth. You are a talented entrepreneur making a go of it in a terrible economy.”
“I see.” He’d asked about her shop. How interesting. How worrisome. Before or after the 911 call? She gla
nced over at Donna’s guilty face, and her heart twisted. “You didn’t tell him about Avery, did you?”
A bright red cardinal trilled in the live oak above them. Donna cocked her head to the sound. Was she stalling? Was she indulging in her characteristic sense of drama? Jeanie wanted to reach over and strangle it out of her.
“Tell me what you said.”
“I might have said that scalawag left you high and dry.”
“Donna! Strangers don’t need to know that.”
“I only mentioned Avery to illustrate how motivated you were to succeed.”
“Succeed? Succeed at what? And what’s that got to do with anything, anyway? He’s got two guard dogs. They scared the bejesus out of Nathaniel on Sunday. We went by there yesterday for a delivery, and Mackenzie made the dogs behave, but I’m not sure what he’s up to.”
Donna eyed her sharply. “What makes you think he’s up to something?”
“I don’t know. He just...looks like trouble.”
“Trouble? What kind of trouble? Wait a minute.” Donna peered carefully into Jeanie’s suddenly warm face. “Are you blushing?”
“No, I am not,” she denied staunchly. “I went to the park with the kids and got some sun, is all.”
“What’s going on here, Jeans?”
“Nothing! I mean, nothing. I’m just...curious about the man. That sling. That scar. Wouldn’t you be?”
Donna studied her thoughtfully for a long moment, then seemed to come to a decision.
“He does look like he was in a fight.”
“Exactly. Did you ask him about it?”
“He said he broke his arm in a boating accident.”
Darned if that didn’t make Jeanie even more curious. “He said something to me about wanting to be near the water. I wonder if he has a boat out at the Mid-County Marina. He must be a coastal type, especially if he likes fishing and diving.”
“Blackwater diving is crazy. Why not go offshore or down to the Caribbean where you can see what you’re doing? Why fumble around in our silt-laden waters?”
“It takes all kinds.”
“Sure does.” Donna gathered up the paper plates, tossed them in the trash, and stretched. “And to answer your question, yes, I am curious about the man. I invited him to have a drink at the wine shop, but he declined. Now I know why. He’s got the hots for you.”
Rough Waters Page 2
