by Jo Leigh
“You’re away from work, sitting in a bar on the beach, drinking good Scotch...”
She looked up. Wyatt was back, leaning against the counter behind him, those tanned muscled forearms crossed again and he must have known how much that stance complemented his strong, broad chest. His snug T-shirt hid nothing.
“So why look as if the world is about to cave in on you?” he asked.
“Um, maybe because it is?”
His mouth twitched into a wry half smile, as if he didn’t believe a word. “You sure? The mind is a dangerous place to be roaming around this late.”
“Amen to that.” Cricket let out a soft laugh, then drained her Scotch.
When he picked up her glass and raised his brows, she nodded.
“Hey, if you need an ear...” He shrugged. “I’m a bartender, it’s my job.”
“You’re so full of shit.” Bobby or Billy—she’d forgotten—was off the phone and snorted like a pig. “Anyone tries to unload on you and you tell ’em to go find a damn shrink.”
Wyatt pinned him with quite an impressive glare. “I’m selective,” he said, and grabbed the Scotch.
After he poured her drink and corked the bottle, something behind her caught his attention. “Excuse me,” he murmured, suddenly preoccupied. “Sabrina.” He stepped to the side and motioned. “You okay?”
“Fine,” a woman’s soft voice replied.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to work. I’m really, really sorry I’m late, Wyatt. Please don’t fire me. I—I couldn’t help it.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” he said, then muttered a curse. “What happened?”
Cricket sat up straighter, fighting the urge to turn around. Something about the way Wyatt looked stirred some instinct that lifted the fine hair on the back of her neck. If she hadn’t seen him with the children earlier, the hard edge in his eyes would’ve given her a completely different impression of him. She couldn’t resist a brief peek.
The bruise on the young woman’s face was impossible to miss, even though she’d tried her best to hide it with her long auburn hair. Cricket’s chest tightened at the sight. At what it so clearly meant. The woman, who couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, and Wyatt were speaking quietly, their conversation not meant to be overheard, but Cricket couldn’t do anything about it, short of getting up and leaving.
“It’s fine, Wyatt. I promise. Can we drop this?”
He took so long to respond, Cricket stole another quick glance. The hardness was back in his eyes. “Don’t worry. Take the rest of the night off.”
“Thanks, but I really need the money.”
His jaw clenched. “After we close, you can stay upstairs if you want.”
“That’s okay. I’ve got it covered.”
Wyatt didn’t move for a while, but Sabrina did, slipping quickly behind the bar.
Cricket couldn’t help but think about how Wyatt was still watching the woman. No, not just her. He did a scan around the bar, and she had the feeling he knew exactly who should be there and who shouldn’t be in the crowded room, before his protective gaze returned to Sabrina. Cricket’s esteem for him went up, way up, along with her curiosity. So far, he’d surprised her twice tonight, three times if she counted this afternoon.
Interesting. The guy next to her? He was like a bottle of wine. The label might be enticing, but when you got up close, he was bland and boring.
Wyatt, on the other hand, had something going on inside, in addition to the tantalizing label. She was trying to remember if she’d met anyone who had ever stirred that particular feeling in her before. Although she didn’t know this man. He could be a wild card. A complication she didn’t need.
“Hey,” Bobby said, loudly in her ear. “He forgot your drink. I can get it for you if you want.”
“That’s okay.” She gave him her patented not-interested look, then glanced behind him to focus on Wyatt as he filled drink orders on the other side of the bar.
Then her phone rang. Small mercies. She pulled it out of her bag. “Jade. Where are you?”
“I’m here. Five minutes from the resort.”
“How?”
“I used my incredible charm.”
“Right. You bulldozed somebody into giving you a seat.”
“What’s the difference?”
Cricket laughed. Some things never changed. She hadn’t seen Jade since the day they’d graduated but they’d kept in touch through Facebook and Cricket knew she was working for some giant perfume company in New Jersey. “Where do you want to meet?”
“Is the hotel bar okay with you? I want to check in and dump my stuff.”
“Sure,” Cricket said, glancing at Wyatt.
“Say, fifteen minutes?”
Bobby leaned in and waved at her. Cricket turned on her stool, ignoring him.
“Okay,” she said, but Jade had already disconnected. It was probably going to be a late night, and she doubted she’d be back to flirt with Wyatt, but that couldn’t be helped.
She left a twenty on the bar, figuring it should be enough with tip, and walked to the door. Before she left, she turned her head, just in time to catch him staring right at her. His eyes narrowed and she wondered what he saw, but then his eyes widened, his brows raised in an obvious question.
She gave him her most enigmatic smile. At least she hoped so. She might just look like an idiot.
When he grinned back, she still wasn’t sure.
Chapter Five
CRICKET’S PLAN HAD been to walk to Ronny’s shack. But staying up until two thirty this morning put that idea to bed. Which she wished she had done for herself, instead of taking a cab the sinfully short distance to the place where she’d grown up.
She couldn’t complain too much. Harlow had joined her and Jade after ditching the football player, and they’d laughed themselves silly in the hotel bar, and then after it closed, out on the deck. The talk had been about the past. She knew her reasons for not telling her friends about what was happening in her life now, but she also knew they’d all fess up soon enough.
Thoughts of Wyatt had floated through her brain all night. Just images, stray thoughts. She’d slipped once about him, and the others had glommed on to it like leeches. After that she’d been careful not to mention the bar. They all knew it. And soon enough they’d all be checking him out.
As the taxi pulled up on the beach road, she smiled at Ronny’s sky blue shack, the only one like it on this stretch of the best surfing beach for miles. The city had tried to make him change the color back when she’d been a teenager, but they’d given up eventually. That house was as much a landmark as anything in Temptation Bay, and surfers came from all over to meet Ronny, in his fifties, and still a legend in his own right.
She gave the cab driver too much money, then slipped off her sandals to walk the familiar sand, clean and cool in the early morning air. She’d worn one of her old sundresses, something she’d taken with her to Chicago out of nostalgia more than anything, but hardly ever wore. Last time had been on her last visit... God, three years ago already. How had that happened? She needed to come more often. He missed her. A lot. He’d promised to make her favorite breakfast, chocolate chip pancakes, and swore his groupies, the surfers that swarmed in the summer and made his shack their headquarters, were banished for the day.
She hadn’t the heart to tell him she hadn’t liked chocolate chip pancakes since high school. It didn’t matter. She’d eat whatever he had. Guess she missed him just as much.
The front door was open, but she stopped on the second step up to the porch. The board had been replaced recently. Unfortunately, the other two hadn’t, and it was evident that they’d already started rotting.
But that was her dad. Fix what’s broke. If it’s not, why bother? There were waves to catch. Fish to fry. Books to read. He
’d always been like that. It had driven her mother nuts, and as Cricket had grown up, it had bothered her, too.
The whole house was in need of repairs. Shingles missing on the roof, one window broken, fixed with duct tape, the paint was peeling, and she was pretty sure the whole place was leaning a little to the left.
“Well, are you coming in or what?”
She grinned and trotted past the porch, straight into his arms.
“Oh, Baby Girl, it’s been too long. And you’re too skinny.”
She leaned back, studying his face. Wow, she’d never thought it would happen, but he was looking his age. “Look who’s talking. Hasn’t anyone been feeding you?”
“I’m not an invalid. I take care of myself just fine.” He pulled her tight again. “Besides, being lean is good for longevity. I’m thinking of going macrobiotic. I read a really interesting book about it.”
“You’d blow away in the wind if you lost more weight,” she said. “I’m actually surprised that you and this old shack didn’t get flown to Oz during that last big northern.”
“That’s the beauty of the Bay, my girl. We’re protected here, just like the pirates.”
“Oh, for... You know the cab driver from the airport was talking about that stupid treasure on my way here. I can’t believe it hasn’t been completely debunked by now, and what’s that smell?”
“Goddammit.” Ronny abandoned her to the kitchen, where at least one chocolate chip pancake had become a lava cake.
“It’s all right,” he said. “I mixed up plenty.”
He always had. Burning meals was another Ronny specialty. Which was troubling. Although she wasn’t going to say anything yet. Not until she found out more about the Jeep accident and the fall on the dock.
“How’s the coffee?” she asked.
“Like always. Tastes like motor oil, keeps you up as long as you need to be.”
“Tell you what, just for a change of pace, I’ll fix you some a little milder.” Anticipating his protest, before he opened his mouth she said, “I’m not throwing away your tar. You can heat it up later. But I need coffee that’s not ninety-four octane.”
“Be my guest, Baby Girl. There’s OJ in the fridge, too.”
Butter sizzled on his old cast-iron grill while she busied herself with the beverages, pouring them both a glass of juice as the new coffee brewed.
“What do you hear from your mother?”
“She’s good. Still living in Paris with the judge.”
“That’s number four, right?”
“Yep. But she likes him. He’s got hobbies.”
“Hobbies. So she can shop all she wants without him tagging along?”
“That’s right.” Cricket grinned. “And they like taking river cruises. I think the last one was from Budapest to Amsterdam.”
“Huh. I’m glad she’s happy.”
“She asks about you, too, you know.”
“What do you tell her?”
“That you’re forever Ronny. That you don’t have a new woman in your life. Or has that changed?”
“Nope. I’m forever me. How about you? Got yourself some hot prospect?”
“I’m too busy working to have any kind of prospect.”
“That’s a shame, Baby Girl. I’d like you to fall madly in love with a good man.”
Cricket smiled. That didn’t surprise her. Ronny had always had a romantic soul. “Well, that’s not exactly off my wish list. Just not in the immediate forecast.”
“Put a couple forks on the table, huh? The food’ll be ready in a sec.”
She did, along with the juice. His old coffeepot took forever, but that was okay. “How’s the charter business going?”
“Good. You know summer’s always busy for me. Lot of tourists wanting to catch their trophies. I had one guy wanting to know where he could get a baby marlin stuffed. Got all upset when I told him we had to throw it back, that it was below the limit.”
“What about your regulars?”
“Yeah, yeah, I get enough repeat business to pay the bills, but the extras help out for the winters. With the crazy weather patterns now, you never know what to expect.” He brought two plates over, each one pretty much covered in a giant pancake. “There you go, Baby Girl. Your favorite.”
“I see you didn’t forget the butter and the syrup.”
“Nope. Never will.” He sat down across from her, at the table he’d had as long as she could remember, made from driftwood by a local craftsman. It was really ugly and wobbled, but it went with the rest of the decor.
Almost everything in the shack was roughshod and the style could only be labeled as beach bum. There were still a couple of lamps that her mother had added, both classic and traditional. Also, the painting above the long couch that had to be worth a lot by now, although she doubted her dad had done much to preserve it. She couldn’t remember the artist’s name, but he’d been renowned back in the day.
“About those charters,” she said, “you are insured, right?”
Ronny stopped eating to stare at her. “Insured? Why would I need that? You’re an attorney. Anything happens and I get sued, you’ll take care of it.”
She dropped her fork. “Are you crazy? The only thing I’d be able to do is visit you in prison.”
A smile with lots more lines crinkling his tanned face made her roll her eyes. “I’m insured,” he said. “Very well, in fact. Both the business and the house.”
“Speaking of, what happened with that fall on the dock? And also, how come you didn’t tell me about crashing the Jeep?”
“Lousy gossips in this town. The Jeep was nothing. A fender bender. I needed three whole stitches. Jeez. As for the dock, it was slick and I fell, that’s it. It happens.”
“Was it the dock or your personal slip?”
“I don’t remember. Does it matter?”
“Of course it does. You’re responsible for your slip. Before I leave, I’m going to the dock to make sure it’s not a hazard, talk to the harbormaster if need be. Even with insurance, if someone breaks their neck and they can prove maintenance wasn’t kept up, they can sue the pants off you.”
“Honey, I hate to tell you, I’ve been without pants on that dock plenty of times before.”
“Ew.”
His hearty laugh hadn’t changed a bit. “Eat your pancake. If you finish it all up, I’ll make you another.”
“Oh, Ronny. I’m not twelve anymore. All this sugar is going to keep me wired all day.”
“And you turned your nose up at my coffee.”
She laughed and ate, enjoying the cloyingly sweet chocolate and syrup despite herself. It reminded her of home, of such happy days. Even when Ronny and her mom fought, they must’ve been civil, because she didn’t remember any of it. After they split, her childhood spent mostly with her father was a collage of shining memories, filled with an ease she rarely found outside the Bay.
“How’s Eleanor and Oliver?” They were his longtime neighbors. Oliver was a retired fisherman and Eleanor worked at the library part-time. They’d watched her often when she was growing up.
“Oliver’s getting old. Can’t walk too much anymore. Working on the sea takes it out of a person. He’s got arthritis so bad his hands are almost useless. Eleanor still goes out to the library three times a week, though.”
“Do they still argue like street fighters?”
“Yeah, but it’s better now that Eleanor doesn’t hear so great. Oliver spends most of his time yelling at the kids who come around here.” Ronny shrugged. “It’s okay, though. A man like Oliver needs something to be angry about, other than his own body.”
“And how’s your body?”
He looked wounded, and honestly, she hated to even bring it up, but there was something off about him. His eyes still made him seem young, and his floppy hair, perman
ently sun streaked and brushing the neckline of his T-shirt, had grayed some, mostly at his temples. It wasn’t that, though. His movements were somehow more careful. Even when he walked the short distance from the kitchen to the table. “I’m not that old.”
“I know. That accident? Whose fender was the bender?”
His guff of air was a warning, but she wasn’t about to back off yet. “Mine, okay? I got distracted. What, that’s never happened to you? I’m fifty-eight years old, and I’ve had exactly two car accidents. Both of them minor. I think my record is pretty damn good.”
“When was the other one?”
He didn’t answer.
“Could vertigo be the problem?”
“No.”
“What about surfer’s ear?”
“You think I wouldn’t know if I had surfer’s ear?”
“Have you checked?”
“Yes.”
She was about to ask him another question, but reconsidered.
His stare made her feel awkward, something she wasn’t used to. Ronny wasn’t just a community legend, he was her own personal hero. His kindness had always been unfailing, and she’d known many boys turn into good men because they’d hung out with her beach bum dad. “Isn’t that famous coffee of yours done by now?”
“Yes, it is.” She got up, took her empty plate into the kitchen, which was really just on the other side of the standing counter, and poured them both a cup. Despite his complaining, he’d always liked the way she made it with a pinch of cinnamon.
“Tell me what else has changed,” she said, setting his cup in front of him. She kissed his forehead before sitting down.
There was the smile that she loved. “Every damn thing. Except the surfing and the fishing. Some company offered me a fortune to buy the shack, and my slice of sand.”
“Really?”
“Of course I told them no. I’m never leaving this place. I want you to have it after I kick off. Besides, this old thing survived Hurricane Sandy, the town council and five mayors.”
