1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Nine

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  There was my name.

  My mouth fell open as I took in all the words on the page, which really didn’t make much sense to me.

  Sitting on the beach, looking at the water. 0

  Refraining from spacing hangers in closet just so. 50

  Writing less than eight words on a line. 30

  Eating a mint after it falls on floor. 80

  Zipping up my fly less than eight times. 50

  Turning off the television on an odd channel. 60

  Locking the front door less than eight times. 70

  Sitting in a restaurant chair that feels “wrong.” 75

  Eating at a restaurant without bringing own dishes. 80

  Handling a kitchen knife while others are present. 90

  Talk to Skylar Nixon.

  What the hell was this?

  I read the list again but felt no closer to understanding it. Some of the items seemed like maybe they were things that made him nervous, and others were just odd behaviors. Zipping his fly eight times? A chair that feels “wrong”? Why couldn’t he handle a kitchen knife in front of other people? Was he scared of knives? And what was with the numbers? I felt sorry for him, but boy…this was pretty odd.

  If he wanted to talk to me, why hadn’t he done it today? He’d had plenty of chances. Was he just too shy? Biting my lip, I turned the page.

  And saw my name again.

  Skylar

  I think I loved you is not the best

  introduction after we’ve just met

  I realize this. And maybe you will

  never know

  never know

  never know

  never know

  never know

  never know

  never know

  never know

  Maybe it is too soon (or too late?)

  to tell you about the dream I had

  your laugh was a butterfly

  Today when I touched you

  I felt a familiar chill down my arms. I think it

  came from the future (or the past?)

  With your hand in mine I saw the

  tragedy of us

  unfold quite clearly

  I have no choice but to

  keep my distance

  but your beauty is gravity

  and terrestrial bodies will always fall

  I read it again and again and again, gooseflesh rippling down my arms. He wrote poetry? Had he written this for me today? Did he really feel this way about me? My heart was pounding. I stared at the words, trying to memorize them, scared Natalie was going to catch me snooping but needing desperately to take something beautiful from this day, even if it was sad too.

  A few seconds later, someone pounded so hard on the door that I gasped.

  Spinning around, I slapped my hand over my heart when I saw Sebastian through the glass. I slammed the notebook shut. Act natural. You saw nothing. You know nothing.

  But suddenly I wanted to know everything.

  Chapter 7

  Sebastian

  Fuck, I scared her.

  I watched Skylar whirl around at the sound of my banging on the door and put a hand over her heart. When she saw it was me, she picked up the notebook from the counter and walked toward the door. The moment she unlocked it, I yanked it open and snatched the notebook rudely from her hands. I’d been in a complete state of panic since realizing it wasn’t in my jacket, but I felt only mild relief to have it back in my possession. Had she looked inside it?

  Fucking hell. I’d die. Die.

  “Hi,” she said brightly, coming outside. The door swung closed behind her. “I wondered if you’d come back for that.”

  “Yeah. Sorry.” I couldn’t bring myself to look her in the eye, so I stared at her feet. They were small and narrow, and even though she wore high heels, she was still a good six inches shorter than me.

  “No problem, we’re still here closing up.”

  I nodded, the tension in my gut uncoiling a little. She wasn’t acting as if she’d seen anything crazy. I risked a glance at her, and those blue eyes cranked my adenaline right up again.

  “So, did you move back recently?” Her tone was light and friendly and she leaned against the door, hands behind her back. It made her breasts stick out a little, and I looked at them before I could help myself. The thought of accidentally choking her jumped unbidden into my mind, and I took a step back.

  Shit. Just get the fuck out of here.

  “I gotta go.” Without meeting her eyes, I turned and counted off my paces in sets of eight as I hurried away from her.

  Hating myself, I went home and cleaned my house from top to bottom, took another shower (during which I jerked off to her again, which only made me feel more loathsome), ate dinner staring at a stupid cable news show that reaffirmed my belief that the world was a fucked-up place full of greed and cruelty, and went to bed.

  Staring at the empty space beside me, I counted myself to exhaustion, and went to sleep.

  * * * *

  The next day was a little better, although I was angry with myself for being such a dick to Skylar.

  To work it off, I went to the gym in the morning and spent the early afternoon working outside at my cabin. The piece of property on Old Mission Peninsula I’d inherited from my mother was small, but it was well off the main road and had about twenty waterfront feet, although no beach. The land had been in her family for a hundred years or so, and when she died, it was divided into three parcels and willed to my two brothers and me. They’d sold their plots to a developer, but I’d held on to mine and built a cabin on it. A contractor had done the construction last summer, and I’d spent my winter working on the interior, installing reclaimed wood floors and kitchen cabinets, stained concrete counters, new appliances, a stone and tile bathroom downstairs. The whole place wasn’t even eight hundred square feet, but it was plenty of room for me.

  My latest project was an outdoor shower. With the water line prepped and in place, I began working on installing the solar water heater, so that showers out here would be refreshing rather than dick-shrinking cold. Of course, the entire time I worked I pictured Skylar underneath the shower head, warm water running down her body, dripping off her curves, clinging to her skin. Oh fuck. Now I was hard. Frowning, I adjusted my jeans and kept working.

  Damn it, why did I panic around her? Why couldn’t I manage a simple conversation? I’d been battling obsessive thoughts for the majority of my life, and Ken was right—I had plenty of strategies in place for dealing with them. So what the fuck was it?

  Was it her looks? Was it because I felt guilty for the way I used to think about her? The way I still thought about her? Or was yesterday just a bad day? It was almost like I’d had too many good days, and the doomsayer in me needed to speak up and remind me I wasn’t okay. I’d never be okay.

  I wondered what she was thinking. Would she even talk to me again if I approached her? Once something was on my list, I couldn’t give up on it—and I knew that if I didn’t work through my issue with her, it would continue to haunt me. This wasn’t a huge town, so I was bound to run into her from time to time, and I couldn’t retreat whenever that happened. Ken was right about that too—avoidance never works, not for me.

  I might be an asshole, but I wasn’t a goddamn coward. Not anymore.

  Next time I saw her, I’d do better.

  Chapter 8

  Skylar

  I started working for Natalie the next day, and by three o’clock, my feet were killing me, my lower back ached, and I was exhausted. My sisters were both early risers, as were my mom and dad, but waking before six AM felt like medieval torture to me, and the weather wasn’t helping. It had been cloudy and gray all day, and the rain had just started to fall. Nap weather.

  “Is it over?” I asked, when the final lunch customers had left, opening their umbrellas before heading out. “If it isn’t, I think I have to quit.”

  “It’s over.” Natalie grinned at me over her shoulder as she pile
d dishes from their table on a tray. “We can close up.”

  “Thank God.” Wincing with every step on my sore feet, I went to the door to lock it and flip the sign to CLOSED. Then I collapsed on the nearest stool, flopping forward over the counter. “I’ll help you in a second. I need a rest.”

  “Don’t close your eyes,” she warned. “You’ll fall asleep, I know you.”

  I did have a knack for falling asleep pretty much anywhere when I was tired. My eyes were already drifting shut as I settled my cheek on one extended arm. “Shush. Just need a minute.”

  “I’m taking these dishes to the kitchen, and once they’re loaded in the dishwasher, your rest is over.”

  “Mmkay.” Drowsy and warm and lulled by the sound of the rain, I’d just started to doze off when I heard a few sharp raps on the glass. “Go ‘way. Closed,” I mumbled without picking up my head.

  The knocking continued, growing even louder. What the hell, could this person not read?

  “Okay, okay.” Reluctantly, I slid off the stool and turned to see a drenched Sebastian Pryce through the glass, rain coming down in sheets behind him.

  My stomach jumped, and I rushed over to the door, fumbling with the lock before pushing it open. “Come on in,” I said, a little breathless. All I could think of were his words about me. I could still see them on the page…

  I have no choice but to

  keep my distance

  “My God, you’re soaked.” I looked him up and down, taking in the dark jeans and the light brown jacket, although it was dripping wet, as was his hair. “Can I get you a towel or something?”

  “No, that’s okay.”

  “How about a cup of coffee then?” I glanced behind me to make sure we still had some in the pot.

  “No, thanks. I didn’t come for coffee. I was just running an errand downtown and saw you through the window. I didn’t realize you worked here.”

  I smiled. So talkative today—almost friendly. “It’s my first day.” Lowering my voice to a whisper, I leaned toward him and spoke behind one hand. “But you just caught me napping on the job.”

  He smiled at me, a slow, sly grin that made my knees go weak. “I won’t tell.”

  “Thanks.” I waited for him to tell me why he was there but he said nothing for a moment, his eyes running over my hair and face, lingering on my mouth.

  but your beauty is gravity

  I licked my lips. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything to drink? The kitchen just closed, or I’d offer you something to eat.”

  “I’m sure. I’m not hungry. I just came in to talk to you.”

  and terrestrial bodies will always fall

  “You did?”

  “Yes. I owe you an apology.”

  A blush warmed my cheeks. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it isn’t. I shouldn’t have rushed off yesterday. I feel bad about it.”

  “Well, I shouldn’t have come in here screaming like a banshee either.” I shook my head, smiling ruefully.

  He shrugged. “It’s all right.”

  God, he was so damn cute, all wet and sheepish. “Sure I can’t get you some coffee? I hate to send you back out into the rain so fast. I’ll sit with you.” Come on, let’s get you out of those wet clothes.

  His lips tipped up again, and my heart ka-banged like a sixth grader’s with her first crush. I loved how one of his eyebrows sort of cocked up higher than the other when he smiled. “No, thank you. I should go.” He turned and pushed the door open, then looked over his shoulder and said, “But it’s good to see you again.”

  When he was gone, I stood there staring out the window at the rain for a solid five minutes, suddenly wide awake and more curious about him than ever. Suddenly I wished I’d stuck a note in his pocket.

  Do you like me? Check yes or no.

  * * * *

  Coffee Darling was only open until mid-afternoon, so I had plenty of time left over in the following weeks to help my mother update the guest houses. I’d get up at five, work at the shop until the lunch crowd left, and then head back home to paint, change up window treatments, and swap out old linens or light fixtures for new ones. On my days off, I’d go hunting at antique shops for old chairs I could recover, tables my dad could help me refinish, or just pretty things that would look nice hanging on the walls or sitting on a shelf.

  In the evenings, I helped my mother tweak their farm’s website, which was dated and busy. I convinced her to hire a photographer to take new photos, and found a graphic designer to work on a new logo.

  I can’t say I was any closer to figuring out what to do with my life, but I felt good about helping out my family, and staying busy made it easy to put off worrying about the future or dwelling on my failed career as an actress. My most immediate concern was that damn reunion—could I show my humiliated face? My final episode of Save a Horse aired toward the end of May, (no, I did not watch) but I still felt the disgusted stares and heard the angry whispers of locals here and there. It would probably be a while before I felt totally comfortable being in a crowd again.

  If only I had someone to go to the reunion with. But my two closest girlfriends from school lived out of town and weren’t attending, and Natalie said showing up with her as my date would be worse than going alone. If Sebastian had come into the shop again, I would’ve asked him about it, but he never did. I asked Natalie about him once, and she said he was kind of like that—he might come in every day for a week and then not at all for two. Then she teased me about the crestfallen look on my face so much that I didn’t ask again.

  I was starting to think I’d imagined his poetic words about me when I ran into him at the hardware store one night in late May.

  I was in aisle four looking for screws for these cool cast iron bin pulls I’d just bought at an old barn-turned-antiques store, and I was having trouble finding the right size. Frowning again at the vast selection in front of me, I was thinking of asking for help when I heard a voice behind me.

  “Skylar?”

  I turned, and there he was. “Oh! Hi.” Suddenly I remembered my hair was in a ponytail and quickly tugged the elastic out before he could notice my Nixon ears. Slipping it over one wrist, I tried to shake out my hair, fluff it out a little.

  “Hi.” He smiled and my heart thumped hard at the slow stretch of those full lips and the way one of his brows arched higher than the other. Why on earth had he hidden that face for so long? “How are you?”

  “Good. I’m just looking for a screw.” My eyes went panicky wide as I realized what I said. “For some screws, I mean. Not a screw.”

  He laughed then, a warm, genuine chuckle that sent joy spiraling up inside me. “Do you need some help?”

  “I do, actually.” I held up one bin pull. “I bought this antique hardware but I can’t find the right fit for the hole.”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake.

  “I hate when the screw is wrong for the hole.” With an easy grin on his face, Sebastian took the pull from me and examined it. “Hmm. Let’s see.” He hunted around for a moment, during which I covertly studied him from the corner of my eye. He was tall and trim, with a nice round ass which I may or may not have leaned backward to check out while he tested a few different size screws. “Aha.” He faced me and held one out. “This should work.”

  “Great. If they have eight of them, I can get this job done tonight.”

  “You need eight screws to get the job done?” That brow cocked even higher. “That happens to be my favorite number.”

  Now this guy I could flirt with.

  I rolled my eyes and pushed gently on his chest, which was broad and thick. He wore a navy blue track jacket which fit his upper body much better than the old baggy sweatshirts he used to wear in high school. “Very funny. So you’re talking to me today, huh?”

  The smile slid off his face, and immediately I was sorry I’d mentioned anything about our previous meeting. “Yeah. Sorry again about… that one day. I was just…” He closed his eyes for a moment
and took a deep breath, his muscular chest rising and falling. “I don’t know. I was having a bad day.”

  “Me too. God.” My shoulders shuddered at the memory. “An awful day.”

  He looked at me sideways. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I got fired. And then I fell on my face in front of you at the beach. And then the Cherry Pageant people took my crown away.” At the time, it had seemed like such a serious personal insult—now it just sounded silly, like I was a child whose favorite toy had been taken away. Probably because that’s exactly what you are.

  “Why?”

  I sighed, closing my eyes. “It’s a long and embarrassing story.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “We all have those.”

  I thought about what Natalie had said about his recent past. What do you know, Sebastian Pryce and I have something in common. It gave me an idea. “Hey. Want to trade long and embarrassing stories over a drink?”

  His expression immediately went from sympathetic to scared, and I wondered if I’d gone too far.

  “I’m sorry.” I glanced around. “You came here for something, and the store’s about to close. I shouldn’t keep you. It was just a thought. Maybe some other time.”

  “No, no. It’s okay.” He paused. “Actually, I think I’d like that.”

  I cocked my head. “You don’t sound too sure about it.”

  “I’m sure.” He tapped my nose, an affectionate gesture that surprised me. “Listen. It’s not every day that thee Skylar Nixon asks me for a drink. You have to give me a minute.” Lifting an arm in between us, he pinched the skin on his wrist.

  “Oh, stop.” Flustered, I pushed his hand down. “Don’t be silly.”

  He grinned. “I need to grab some chairs, though. Should we meet out front?”

  “Chairs? You’re shopping for furniture at the hardware store?”

  “Adirondack chairs. For my patio. They’ve got them on sale here this week.”

  “Oh. Where do you live?”