Summer Plans and Other Disasters

by Karin Beery

  She nodded, her breaths hissing between her teeth.

  “It’s my fault,” Stacey said, mopping up a puddle of green liquid. “I swung the bucket and hit Callie’s arm. I spilled cleaner everywhere.”

  The anxiety eased, and Jack exhaled. Nothing debilitating. He carefully cupped Callie’s injured arm, not wasting a second before pulling the saturated gauze away from her wound. She turned her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

  Blood oozed around the nylon stitching. Jack quickly scanned for a clean rag, but Callie had done a good job emptying the place. He doubted he’d find anything, much less something quasi-sanitary. Looping his thumb through a hole at the bottom of his shirt, he pulled. Cotton ripped. He slid the pocketknife off of his belt and cut off the edge of his shirt. It couldn’t be any dirtier than anything he’d find in his truck.

  Callie sucked in a deep breath. “Do I need new stitches?”

  Jack grabbed her bottled water and dumped it over her arm. The blood washed away quickly, leaving thin pink trails over her skin. He dabbed the cut with his shirt. “No, they look okay. You might have pulled them a little, but you don’t need to go back to the hospital. If I were you, I’d give this a good clean and wrap it again with a fresh bandage.”

  Stacey leaned over Jack’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

  Callie shook her head. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Yeah. She would have found a way to do it to herself eventually.” Jack laughed. He stood up, and Stacey backed away from him, then he caught the scent of vanilla. Figured that she would smell like dessert.

  Callie reached up for some assistance. “I might have avoided injury.” He grabbed her stable arm and pulled her up. She took his shirt scrap and wrapped it around her stitches. “I’ll run home and take care of this. I should be back in about an hour.”

  Not if he could help it. Jack crossed his arms. “I don’t think so.”

  Callie blinked. “I guess, I mean, well … I could try to make it back faster, but there have been a lot of cyclists on the peninsula this week. It’ll probably take me twenty minutes to get home. Then I have to clean up, wrap my arm, change clothes—”

  “Whoa.” Jack help up a hand. Leave it to his sister to turn yard work into a fashion show. “Why do you have to change clothes?”

  Her eyeballs nearly popped out of her head. “Because you dumped water on me.” Jack followed Callie’s gaze toward her legs. Yep. A giant wet spot, right on her shorts. “I can come back after I change, but it’ll be another twenty minutes. That already puts us at an hour. I’ll hurry, but I don’t think I can do it much faster than that.”

  “I don’t want you to hurry back. I want you to take the afternoon off.”

  “What?” She looked at him as if he’d just suggested she join the circus. That emotion didn’t last long before Confused Callie turned into Confrontational Callie. Anchoring her feet and clenching her jaw, she looked so much like their mother. Jack braced himself for the same kind of stubbornness. “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “Jack—”

  “Callie.”

  “Jackson!” She stomped her foot.

  He sighed. “Calista.”

  They stared at each other. Not their greatest argument ever, but it served its purpose. He didn’t want to upset Callie, but he also didn’t want her to hurt herself again. Then again, she was an adult. She could decide what she wanted to do. He just needed to figure out a way to make her want to do something different.

  Vanilla.

  The scent pierced through the stink of the pavilion as Stacey tried to sneak behind him. It might have worked if he wasn’t so aware of her presence, which suddenly delighted him. “You’re right.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “You didn’t work yesterday afternoon. You should at least finish out today.”

  Callie’s posture eased. “Really?”

  Stacey stopped her non-discreet desertion.

  “Yep. I’m paying you to work. You should work.”

  Callie smiled.

  He would never understand women.

  “Thank you.” She let her arms relax. “I can do this, I know it. I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

  “I know, Squirt. And I don’t want you to spend your entire vacation working. I just thought that, since Stacey’s here, you might want to cut out early and go …” Where? Did he have to suggest something? Jack raked his brain for ideas. “Well, you could go do … girl stuff together.”

  There was that weird look again, except this time Stacey swung around and gave it to him too.

  He looked between them. “What?”

  Callie raised an eyebrow.

  He waited.

  She narrowed her eyes, studying him.

  Stacey giggled.

  Both Stevenses looked at her.

  “Oh, don’t mind me. This is fascinating. I don’t have an older brother, and I always wondered how it worked.” She nodded. “Go on.”

  When had he gone from being a caring older brother to afternoon entertainment? The longer Jack stood there, the less he cared what his sister did. He just needed to get back to work. There were plenty of jobs to fill the afternoon, with or without Callie. She could—

  Callie erupted with laughter.

  He stepped away. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She looked at Stacey. “I wouldn’t exactly consider this fascinating, but I can see how it’s entertaining.”

  Back to that again. Jack glanced at the little blonde as she smiled, tilting her head to look up at him. He fought it, but the corner of his mouth popped up. She giggled again. A chuckle rumbled in his chest.

  “I’m sorry you had to witness this.” He waved a finger between himself and Callie, “but I’m glad we could amuse you.”

  “Me too, but I really should take care of this.” Callie grabbed her arm.

  Jack pulled the truck key out of his pocket. Had they actually agreed on something? “I expect you back in an hour.” He tossed her the key. She managed to catch it.

  “An hour.” She smiled. He forced it. She rolled her eyes. “And I’ll bring some extra clothes, just in case Stacey and I want to leave early to do girl things. Don’t run off without me.”

  Heat coursed through his veins as Callie walked away. He’d never run off with Stacey. Not without her permission, of course. Not that he wanted her permission to run off with him. He’d never even thought about that until Callie had to mention it.

  Great. Stacey’s hair, eyes, and smile already distracted him. Now, he wouldn’t be able to eat vanilla ice cream or drive around without thinking about her.

  He needed to refocus. The busted siding wasn’t going to fix itself. Grateful for the distraction, Jack headed back outside.

  Stacey jumped in front of him and smiled. “I’ll help out until Callie gets back.”

  This was not the kind of distraction he needed.

  After circling around the park for ten minutes, Stacey finally found Jack at the farthest end of the pavilion, hanging trim. “I’m done cleaning.” She looked up at him, into his intense eyes. Captivating eyes. Beautiful eyes. There was something else she wanted to tell him. Something brown? No, that was the color of his eyes.

  “Thanks, but you really don’t need to stay. Go on home.”

  “That’s okay, I don’t mind. Besides, Callie should be here soon. We might actually take you up on your offer and go do something.”

  Jack scrubbed his hands over his face. Great. She’d be spending more time with his sister. “Stacey—”

  “Jack.” She jammed her fists onto her hips. She might not have a big brother, but she certainly understood Callie’s frustration with hers. “You helped me plant Grandma Luce’s garden, put a new starter in my car, taught me how to change my oil, and helped me with Chloe’s drywall. The least I can do is fill in for Callie
until she gets here.” Stacey looked at her watch. “That’s only thirty minutes.”

  “I can handle the work. I expected this sort of thing.”

  Stacey’s arms dropped to her sides. “You expected this? You thought she’d dump soap on her stitches?”

  “No. I expected her to miss a lot of work.”

  “Then why did you hire her?”

  He shrugged. “She’s my sister. I needed help. She wanted to spend the summer here.”

  “But you don’t really want her to help?”

  Jack smiled. “Callie has amazing musical coordination. She can play a dozen different instruments better than I could ever play one, but her brain malfunctions when you put a tool in her hand. She gouged her arm out with a wire brush. A wire brush.”

  Stacey tried to imagine that one but couldn’t. Maybe Jack had a point. “So, why don’t you tell her you don’t need help?”

  “I can’t. I spent a lot of time praying about this—a lot—and I knew I was supposed to hire her, at least part-time. I hired someone else to do the actual work that needs to be done.”

  “Does she know that?”

  “No, and she doesn’t need to.” He picked up the nail gun.

  “So, you’re lying to your sister?” That didn’t seem very brotherly.

  Jack pressed the gun against the thin piece of wood but didn’t pull the trigger. “I guess. I hadn’t thought about it that way.” BAM! BAM!

  “Why don’t you just tell her the truth?”

  “I didn’t think it mattered.” He let the gun drop, swinging his arm back as he looked down at Stacey. “She knows her own faults. I don’t need to point them out. Besides, I never told her she was my only assistant. She’s getting paid for the work that she does. So’s the other guy. I just don’t have to follow him around everywhere.”

  “Oh.” That seemed sort of brotherly. Stacey just stood there, partly because she didn’t know what else to do, and partly because she didn’t want to move. For the briefest moment, she thought she smelled something fresh and soapy, but her nostrils still stung from industrial-strength cleaner fumes.

  Though she could stand there all day enjoying Jack’s company, even if they were both sweaty messes, Stacey started to squirm under Jack’s steady gaze. “Is there anything else you’d like me to do?”

  Jack shook his head. “Callie should be back soon, so you don’t need to start any major projects, but you’d save me some time if you emptied the trash containers and checked the bathrooms.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  He nodded.

  They looked at each other.

  Jack swung around and pressed the nail gun to the wood.

  BAM! BAM! BAM!

  Stacey sighed. Garbage and toilets. That would keep her mind from wandering. She headed toward the nearest trashcan.

  “Stacey?”

  She spun, her heart anxious.

  He nodded. “You’re just about the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

  Heat. Heat and disbelief coursed through her arms and legs. “I, um … ah …”

  “I just thought you should know.”

  He turned around before she could reply.

  BAM! BAM!

  Collecting garbage had never been so much fun.

  Ryan tapped his brakes. His side mirror bounced against the door. Reaching through the open window, he grabbed the limp accessory as he stopped the car. The current repairs were going to cost him enough. He didn’t need to do any more damage.

  He cut the engine and climbed out, trying not to look at the crippled front end. He hadn’t even shut the door before Jack came trudging out of the garage, some type of carving tool in his hands. Ryan fell into step beside him, happy to get as far away from the disaster as possible.

  “What are we doing for dinner?” Jack asked.

  Ryan unbuttoned his collar. “Why do you always ask me that? I never care.”

  “I know, but since I make you cook most the time, I figure it’s polite to ask. See, I listen to you. Using my manners.”

  “Call Emily Post.”

  “Is that a new client? Oh wait, this isn’t the right size.” Jack stopped and spun around. He was sure to notice the Jeep.

  Ryan took bigger steps. Maybe he’d make it inside before—

  “What happened to the Jeep?”

  Or not. Ryan rolled his neck, loosening his shoulders before Jack dumped a colossal lecture on him. He turned to confront the mess. “It’s nothing.”

  “Your bumper and quarter panel are smashed, and the mirror is hanging on by a wire. Literally.”

  “Yeah, I noticed.”

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine, it’s just the Jeep.”

  BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

  A shiny yellow Mini Cooper whipped into the parking lot.

  Ryan groaned. Not now.

  “You know the Mini?”

  “Missy Tate. She’s the accountant in the office next to mine.”

  The driver’s door swung open. A poof of yellowish hair popped out thirty seconds before the rest of her. She waved, her pink claws flashing in the sun. Missy wobbled across the parking lot on shiny high-heeled shoes. Only the gray suit implied any sort of professionalism.

  Jack strolled toward Ryan. “What’s she doing here?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Do I need to be here?”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know. She looks …”

  “Intimidating?”

  “Plastic.”

  Ryan stifled a laugh. “She’s smart. Be nice.”

  “Hey, Ryan!” Missy tiptoed over, bringing her cloud of perfume with her.

  The heavy scent surrounded him, immune to the breeze. “Hi, Missy. What are you doing out here?”

  “I was on a conference call in my office when I saw that jerk sideswipe your car. Since I couldn’t run out after him, I wrote down his license plate number for you.” She smiled at him, holding out a piece of paper.

  Ryan stared at the number, conveniently written on a personalized note pad that included Missy’s email and phone number. “Thanks, but you could have just called.”

  “That’s okay. I didn’t mind the drive.” She stuck a hand out toward Jack. “I’m Melissa Tate.”

  “Jack Stevens.” He shook her hand

  “The lighthouse keeper?”

  “Park supervisor is more accurate, but yeah.”

  “That’s so interesting. Ryan keeps telling me he’ll give me a tour, but this is the first time I’ve been out here.” She flashed a smile between the men.

  Jack slapped a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Since you drove all the way out here, why doesn’t he show you around now?”

  No way. Ryan stuffed the paper in his pocket. “I should probably take care of this first.”

  Missy’s smile faltered. “I could wait until you’re done, in case you have any questions about what I saw.”

  “No, thanks. It could take a while. You’ve already driven this far. I’d hate to keep you here longer.”

  “I don’t mind. I have some free time tonight.”

  Yes, she was a good accountant, but obviously not as smart as Ryan had thought. They stood there staring at each other. He suddenly understood how a deer felt in the crosshairs.

  “You know, I could show you around.” Jack stepped up. “I know more about the lighthouse than Ryan does, anyway.”

  “That’s true.” Lighthouse keeper, park superintendent, superhero best friend. Ryan’s shoulders finally relaxed. “I’ll go take care of this while you show her around. Thanks again, Missy.”

  Jack smacked Ryan’s back again. “Can’t wait for dinner.”

  Ryan stirred the Hamburger Helper. Grilled burgers would have been better, but he could still hear Missy out
side. Man, that woman couldn’t take a hint. By the time Jack walked in, Ryan was dishing up dinner.

  Jack took his bowl. “Not exactly what I was expecting.”

  “I never claimed to be June Cleaver.”

  “Another client?”

  “Just eat.”

  They took their bowls into the living room and sank onto the couch. Jack grabbed the remote and flipped to ESPN. “What did the cops say about the license plate?”

  “I didn’t call.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’d already talked to the police before I knew who hit me, and I’ve already called my insurance company. There’s no reason to get anyone else involved.”

  Jack muted the TV. “Someone else already is involved. He hit your car. You need to call that in.”

  “Thanks, but I’ve got this under control. I’ve got full coverage. I’m fine.” Ryan stole the remote and changed the channel.

  Jack actually backed off. Finally, someone who could take a hint. Ryan turned up the volume and focused on his dinner.

  “What’s the deal with that girl?”

  “Missy?” Ryan shrugged. “She’s just my office neighbor.”

  “She asked a million questions about you.”

  “I hope you lied.”

  “What?” Jack grabbed the remote and the noise died. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Let it go.”

  “Your Jeep’s a wreck, and you just asked me to lie for you. Not the time to let it go. What’s up with you?”

  “Nothing. I’m not in the mood for a lecture.”

  “Who’s lecturing?”

  Ryan laughed. “It’s coming.”

  “Fine, then forget it.” Jack reclaimed the remote. ESPN flipped back on, loud and distracting. They finished their dinner while baseball highlights flashed across the screen.

  The sportscasters bantered, but the silence in the living room grated on Ryan. Stupid conscience. “There’s nothing to tell. Missy keeps throwing herself at me. I’m not interested.”

  “Tell her.”

  “I don’t want to embarrass her. Maybe she’s just being friendly.”

  “She drove twenty-five miles to give you a license plate number.”