Shore Feels Right

by Annette Mardis

  “All right, boss. Have a good lunch.”

  “It’ll be an interesting one, that’s for sure. Now go back to your friends. I’ll talk to you later.”

  * * * *

  When Trisha and Flipper returned to the café, she walked past his table and nodded to Tara, who responded with a forced smile. When he sat down, she asked if everything was okay.

  “Yes. Trisha just needed direction on something.”

  For the next hour, they talked about the whole range of dolphin keeping, from food suppliers, medical management, and training philosophies to habitat designs and security precautions. He also filled her in on each animal’s history. He didn’t tell Tara anything that he wouldn’t say to any other aquarium guest, and although she tried to pry proprietary information from him, he wouldn’t budge.

  They grew frustrated with each other but managed to remain civil. He became convinced she was well-intentioned, although he still considered her mission misguided. Despite their polar opposite views and the slim chance they’d ever find common ground, she intrigued him with her intelligence, compassion, self-deprecating humor, integrity, and smoldering sexiness. He even enjoyed their verbal sparring.

  Flipper couldn’t help wishing they’d met under different circumstances.

  Tara, meanwhile, admitted she didn’t know what to make of him. She acknowledged his deep love for the dolphins under his care but reiterated that she couldn’t respect his profession.

  “I realize my insistence on setting the dolphins free threatens your livelihood, but I just can’t feel guilty about that. You and the other trainers can get different jobs, but each dolphin obviously has only one life, and I’m committed to advocating they live it as nature intended.”

  “Well, damn,” Flipper quipped, “I guess we won’t be getting married after all.”

  “I think that’s for the best.” She flashed her Mona Lisa smile. “But let’s not tell my mother just yet. She’s counting on me to give her at least six grandchildren now that my sister has entered the convent and my parents have disowned my brother for slaughtering baby seals.”

  Tara looked so serious that Flipper almost believed her until a wide grin brightened her face and she added, “Gotcha!” with a playful sparkle in her eyes.

  “You win that round, but this isn’t over by a long shot.”

  She sighed. “No, I don’t guess it is.”

  Chapter 32

  Cosby felt drained after finishing his early evening shift with the GSA volunteer dive team. Cleaning algae from Plexiglas underwater with a cordless buffer proved to be more labor-intensive than he’d ever imagined. Although used to giving his muscles a workout, he’d already had a rough day at Nauti-Toys because two dockhands failed to show up for work. They hadn’t even called, and when Cosby finally reached them by phone, both gave a vague excuse along the lines of “something more important came up.” He’d fired them on the spot, but the upshot was that he’d have to do their jobs until his brother could hire their replacements.

  That part of owning a business really sucked.

  Cosby sat on the ledge at Turtle Lagoon, dangling his feet in the water and catching his breath, when Monica arrived with dinner for the turtles.

  “You look beat,” she told him.

  “I am. As soon as I can scrape up enough energy, I’m going to shower, then head home and crash on the couch.”

  “Want to help me feed the turtles? You don’t have to get up.”

  “Sure. You’re doing it by hand and not in the lettuce bed?”

  “Yes. The fishing net in the feeder needs to be replaced, and Jack hasn’t gotten around to it yet. I’m tired of bugging him about it. If he doesn’t get it done by tomorrow I might have to tell our boss. I hate to be a tattletale, but we need that piece of equipment fixed.”

  “Want me to take a look at it?” Cosby wasn’t in the mood, but if Monica needed help, he’d do it anyway, no matter how weary he was.

  “That’s very sweet of you to offer, but you shouldn’t have to do Jack’s job.”

  “What’s his problem? I thought he was conscientious?”

  “He is, usually. But he just started dating Stella Harper, and his mind’s been on her instead of his work. I could’ve sworn she irritated the heck out of him. Maybe he just didn’t want to admit his attraction to her.”

  “Stella Harper. Why does that name sound familiar?” Cosby took a piece of leafy lettuce out of one of the metal canisters Monica had brought with her.

  “She’s one of our Turtle Department volunteers. You met Stella when we watched Dolly’s surgery, remember?”

  “Vaguely.” He thought a minute. “Oh, wait, is she that short blonde with the big…mouth?”

  “Among other things. Her personality is a little over the top, but she’s really dedicated to the aquarium, and she’s a good person. I’m glad Jack found somebody, but I have to say, and I’m not trying to be mean, that they’re an odd pairing. Almost like Julia Roberts and Lyle Lovett.”

  “Who’s Lyle Lovett?

  “That country singer who used to have the weird pompadour hair. He was popular in the eighties and nineties.”

  “He dated Julia Roberts?”

  “He married Julia Roberts.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. If I recall correctly, they got hitched three weeks after they met and separated less than two years later.”

  “Hmm. So you’re thinking Jack and Stella won’t last?”

  “Who knows. If opposites really do attract, then maybe it’s true love. I know you don’t like him, but Jack’s a stand-up guy.”

  “It’s hard to like someone who tells you to your face you aren’t good enough to be with the woman you love.”

  Monica leaned over and kissed Cosby. “I agree that was insulting, not to mention idiotic and none of his business, but there were extenuating circumstances.”

  “Yeah, he wanted you for himself. How does that excuse what he said?”

  “It doesn’t.” She brushed Cosby’s wet hair off his forehead. “But sometimes people do really stupid things when it comes to matters of the heart. Besides, you’re with me and he’s not, so you can afford to be magnanimous, right?”

  “I guess.”

  Monica kissed him again. “You might as well go ahead and eat when you get home if you’re hungry. There’s leftover spaghetti in the fridge.”

  “You don’t want me to wait for you?”

  “No. I had a late lunch, and I’ll probably just eat yogurt or a small salad.”

  They sat side by side in companionable silence until all the lettuce was gone. And they fed Chester his meal of capelin and squid. Cosby loved watching her with her turtles. Her eyes shone, she wore a huge smile, and he thought she looked even more beautiful than usual. His heart felt so full of love in that moment, he wouldn’t have been surprised if it had burst. Reluctantly, he stood up, helped her to her feet, and told her he’d see her at the apartment later.

  “You might want to take a little nap,” she suggested, “because I have big plans for you after I get off work. If you can keep your eyes open, that is.”

  “I’ll make sure to get my second wind.”

  He stole one last quick kiss and set off for the men’s locker room.

  * * * *

  Cosby stepped out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist and strode to the locker where he kept his duffel bag and dry clothes. As he opened his combination lock, he heard a familiar voice on the other side of the row of lockers. He tried to block out Truman Raines as he spoke in a loud voice, apparently conversing with someone on his cell phone.

  The last thing Cosby wanted to do was to confront the man. Intending to make a quick exit, he dropped his towel and got dressed. But it piqued his interest when he heard his girlfriend’s name while sliding his feet into his boat shoes.

  “Yeah, Monica Sims, she’s that smoking hot marine biologist I told you about who’s a dead ringer for Charlize,” Truman blabbered. “Lon
g legs, nice-sized tits, world-class ass. She’s dating some douche bag who works at a boat rental place on the beach, but that won’t last. Chicks like her are ready and willing to whore themselves out to guys like me for as long as the party lasts. When they’re all used up, I give them a nice parting gift and off they go, no hard feelings. It’s a win-win.”

  Cosby stuck his head around the corner and saw Truman’s back. The man seemed unaware he had an audience. Cosby eased around to his side of the lockers again so he could eavesdrop without being seen if Truman happened to turn around.

  “She acts like she’s not interested, but she’s always checking out the bulge in my pants and licking her lips,” the billionaire continued. “With that mouth, I’ll bet she gives great head. What? Hell, yeah. I doubt she’s ever seen anything like the anaconda. Choke on this, baby!”

  He laughed as Cosby fisted his hands and tried to tamp down his temper. He wanted to wrap his hands around the jackass’ neck and squeeze until his eyes bulged, then throw him face-first against the wall.

  “Sure she’ll deny it, but the woman willingly kissed me back when I planted one on her,” Truman lied. “And if that hack photographer ex-boyfriend of hers hadn’t been standing there getting off on watching us, she would’ve stuck her tongue down my throat and ground her pussy against my dick like every other bitch in heat. I’ll bet she likes it really rough and raunchy, too. Yeah, I doubt she’d give a shit if I filmed it and posted it on the damned Internet. Gives me a woody just thinking about it.”

  Cosby couldn’t stand it any longer. He walked up to Truman and tapped him on the shoulder. The other man whirled around and looked at Cosby as though he were a fly buzzing around a picnic table.

  “Hey, bro, let me call you back. Her loser boyfriend’s ears must be burning because he’s standing here all pissed off.” Truman laughed again. “Probably wants to play hero and ‘defend her honor,’ but I’ve got news for him. That slut would hump anything or anybody—”

  Cosby seized the phone, dropped it on the all-weather carpet, and crushed it with his foot.

  “You stupid son of a bitch,” Truman howled, getting right in Cosby’s face. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

  Cosby grabbed the front of Truman’s custom-made, button-down dress shirt and shoved him against the row of lockers.

  “What the fu—”

  “Shut your damned filthy mouth,” Cosby hissed. “If I ever hear you talk about Monica or any other woman like that again, I’ll wipe the floor with you and stuff you in a toilet, got that?”

  “You’ll regret putting your stinking hands on me.” Truman’s face glowed red. He tried to step forward, but Cosby pushed him back against the lockers. Truman’s eyes registered his intent as he snapped, “I’ve had about enough of you, asshole” and lunged, catching Cosby in a headlock.

  As the two men scuffled, grunting and shouting curses, Flipper and Evan walked into the room. They appeared around the lockers just as Truman landed three solid punches to Cosby’s face and head. The sickening sound of fist meeting flesh echoed within the small space. Flipper wrapped his arms around Truman from behind, while Evan pulled a bloodied Cosby out of the fray.

  “Your sorry ass is going to jail,” Truman hollered as he flailed his arms and struggled to break free.

  “You stay away from Monica, you hear me?” Cosby shouted as Evan tightened his hold. “If you so much as look at her again, you’ll wish you’d never heard her name.”

  Truman stomped hard on Flipper’s instep and, when the trainer cried out in pain and let go, went after Cosby again, knocking Evan over the bench. He landed hard and lay there for a few moments, dazed. Cosby ducked one punch and blocked a second one before Flipper tackled Truman and covered him like a fumbled football.

  “I’ll have your jobs for this!” Truman threatened, his voice muffled beneath Flipper’s muscular body. “Get the hell off me!”

  “Not until you calm down. Damn it, knock it off before I knock you out,” the trainer warned.

  Cosby helped Evan up, then turned his attention to the man-pile on the floor. His nose and lip throbbed, but he’d be damned if he’d let anyone, especially Truman, see how badly he hurt.

  “Let him up so he and I can finish this,” Cosby ordered Flipper.

  Evan rubbed his back and held up his other hand in front of Cosby.

  “Go do something about your face before you bleed all over everything.”

  “I’m fine,” Cosby insisted. “He barely touched me.”

  “You won’t think so when you take a good look in the mirror.”

  “Evan, go get security and take Cosby with you,” Flipper instructed. “I’m not letting go of this moron until I know he’s done throwing punches.”

  “Call the cops while you’re at it,” Truman barked. “They need to arrest his sorry ass.”

  Flipper dug his knee into the other man’s back. “Say one more word and I’ll cram your other foot in your mouth.”

  Grasping the front of Cosby’s shirt, Evan dragged him toward the door. When he resisted, Evan shook him to get his attention.

  “Look, man, that butt hinge isn’t worth getting in serious trouble over.”

  “He isn’t, but Monica is,” Cosby insisted. “The trash he spewed about her, I can’t just let that go. Give me five minutes alone with him.”

  “I’d love to, but it’s not going to happen. Get it together and use your head before you end up in jail.”

  Evan had a firm grip on his arm as Cosby reluctantly headed out of the locker room and down the hall. When they came to a men’s bathroom, the photographer nudged Cosby inside and over to a mirror. He winced when he saw his reflection. Evan took out his phone and snapped photos from several angles.

  “What’s that for?” Cosby demanded.

  “Documentation. Now clean the blood off your face before you freak out the guests.”

  Cosby mumbled something under his breath as he yanked paper towels out of the dispenser, held them under the faucet, and swiped them across his nose.

  “You need to remember something important. You’re the one Monica loves. Nothing that jackass says will change that.”

  Cosby blotted his lip.

  “Here’s what’s happening next,” Evan continued. “I’ll get security and we’ll keep Truman occupied for a while. You’re going to go home and put ice on your face. When Monica gets off work, she can decide whether to take you to the emergency room.”

  She wouldn’t be happy with him, Cosby knew, and neither would Wesley. It suddenly hit Cosby that his lack of restraint wasn’t just his problem.

  “Hey, listen, I’m sorry I got you and Flipper involved,” he told Evan. “You guys don’t need this hassle. You’ve still got to work here, and shit-for-brains will probably call the cops and drag you further into it.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ve wanted to ram my fist into his smug-ass face since Dani told me about him leering at her. And anyway, I can only tell the cops what I saw. He threw punches, you didn’t. I have no idea who got physical first. And I don’t want to know, if you catch my drift.”

  “Thanks, man. I owe you one.” Cosby stuck out his hand and Evan shook it.

  “Don’t let him mess with your head and we’ll call it even.”

  Cosby nodded and they went their separate ways.

  Chapter 33

  Cosby’s stomach roiled all the way to the apartment. He wasn’t sure he could eat, so he grabbed an old hand towel and a bag of frozen green beans, flopped on the couch, and flipped on the TV. He’d fallen asleep when his cell phone woke him.

  “Cosby, what the hell is going on?” Monica demanded when he answered. “The cops were just here, and I heard you and Truman got into a fight and Flipper and Evan broke it up.”

  When Cosby didn’t say anything for a moment, she continued, aggravation slipping in past the concern in her voice. “Those guys won’t tell me anything. They’ve already talked to Jo, and she’s with Truman in the conference room
right now.”

  “Jo?”

  “Joanna Tompkins. Police detective and Kelsey’s partner, remember?”

  “I do now. Is Wesley there?”

  “Yes. He keeps asking me questions, and I don’t know what to tell him.”

  Cosby got to his feet and the thawing bag of beans landed on the carpet.

  “Tell him I’ll be there in a few minutes and he can talk to me instead of interrogating you. He doesn’t need to drag you into this.”

  “Drag me…” She huffed in annoyance. “Damn it, Cosby, I’m not worried about that, I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine, according to Evan. Stay put and I’ll be there as soon as I can to take you to the emergency room.”

  “I’m not going to the hospital. I told you, I’m fine.”

  “Damn stubborn men,” she complained, more to herself than to him. “Can’t tell you anything.”

  “Monica, baby, you—”

  “I don’t want to hear it. Just don’t go anywhere. I’m leaving in a few minutes.”

  * * * *

  He knew Monica had lost patience with his evasive answers, so rather than sit there while she stared a hole through him, Cosby pushed to his feet and headed for the kitchen. But she snagged his arm and wouldn’t let go.

  “You’re really starting to piss me off. You’re not going one step farther until you tell me why Truman Raines hit you, several times, in fact.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay?” His testy tone only fueled her anger.

  “No, it’s not okay. Why won’t you be straight with me? If you really love me, you won’t keep secrets.”

  Okay, that’s hitting below the belt. But don’t react, he ordered himself. No scowling, no eye rolling, nothing. Just stay calm.

  “Look, Monica, all you need to know is that if I ever get another crack at that bastard, I won’t hold back this time, no matter what the consequences. I’ll enjoy rearranging his pretty-boy face.”

  She stalked over to the dining room table, snatched up her phone, and punched up her contacts list.