by Jo Leigh
The men were happy to accept, but had already turned their interest to the TV over the bar.
“What’s that?”
“Hurricane heading this way soon,” the older of the two fishermen said. “Rare in June, but I still remember Hurricane Agnes. It wasn’t no Perfect Storm or Sandy, but it hit plenty hard back in ’72. A lot of folks lost their boats, and three people drowned.”
“Don’t get excited,” the other customer said. “It’s losing steam. By the time it hits us it’ll be downgraded to a tropical storm.”
“How soon?” Wyatt asked, concerned that he hadn’t known a thing about it. Usually, he was on top of everything weather related, no matter what the season. But he’d been so wrapped up in Cricket his routine had gone sideways.
“If it keeps coming up north, a day or two. But it’ll probably hit land lower down the coast and turn into a tropical storm.”
“Let’s hope so,” Wyatt said, then waited for Sabrina to finish pouring the drinks, then took her to the back room, gave her a new T-shirt and offered her his shower. “You sure you want the bar tonight?”
“Yes. Now go find your friend. I’m fine here. Better than fine. I’m surrounded by tigers.”
“Okay. Then yeah, I’m gonna go, but if anything happens, you dial 911 first, then call me. I’ll be within running distance, you got that?”
“Yeah, I do. Now scoot.”
“Scoot?”
Sabrina laughed as she left his office, and although he still felt like punching a wall, it was a damn fine sound.
Chapter Sixteen
GRABBING THE TOOLBOX he kept in his office, he hurried upstairs to change. Sabrina wasn’t the only one who needed fresh clothes. A quick shower did wonders, and by the time he was dressed, it was just after four thirty.
Luckily, he didn’t have to drive at all, just take a quick jog down past Ronny’s to the dock. The run helped dissipate some excess energy, so by the time he arrived, he’d calmed considerably. Determined to find the loose board Ronny had tripped on, he started with the dock adjacent to his slip, and did a thorough search, plank by plank.
A few minutes later, someone touched the back of his arm and he swung around, nearly hitting Cricket with his toolbox.
“Whoa. I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I should be the one apologizing. Are you all right?”
“Yeah, it didn’t get me. What are you doing out here?”
He shrugged. “Trying to take care of anything that might trip Ronny or anyone else.”
She smiled. “That’s why I’m here, too. That and checking out the boat before I let Skip and Jim take it out again.”
“It’s Skip and Wendy, last I heard. How’s your dad?”
“Okay, except they’ve tacked on more tests, plus a CT scan, though the machine won’t be available until much later. If that doesn’t show anything, he’ll have an MRI tomorrow. The good news is, I talked to Dr. Zachi and he had Ronny admitted overnight. Which, as you can imagine, really pissed Ronny off. Claims everyone’s lying about the CT scan being unavailable just to keep him there. They’re going to put him through all the hoops. So I figured I could sneak in some repairs while he’s otherwise occupied.”
“Great minds,” Wyatt said, wanting to touch her, but not sure about doing so in such a public place.
“Oh, I meant on the shack.”
“So did I.” The way she looked at him was a little confusing. Mostly because she seemed so surprised. He didn’t know why but he didn’t ask. “You look great,” he said.
“Me? Oh, for heaven’s...these are Ronny’s cargo shorts, and this T-shirt is older than I am.”
“Your point?” he asked.
“I bet you’d love seeing me in my ratty old house slippers and patchwork robe.”
“I bet I’d prefer seeing you out of them.”
“Okay,” she said, laughing. “No fair.”
“What?”
“That kind of talk when we can’t do anything about it.”
“Who says we can’t?”
“On Ronny’s boat?”
“Certainly doable.”
Cricket shook her head, still laughing. “You’re so bad.”
“That’s not what you implied last night.” He smiled at her light blush, then glanced over at the Baby Girl. “The boat looks good. Skip and Jim did a nice job cleaning it up.”
“Yeah, my dad said he can really depend on Skip. Clearly his first preference was that I spring him, but he seemed relieved that Skip is handling the charters. That you’re his backup helps, too.” She gave him a sweet smile. “Have I told you how terrific you are?”
A rogue gust of wind whipped past them, strong enough to force Cricket back half a step. Another followed, then things went back to the gentle breeze that had been blowing throughout the day.
“I assume you know about the storm warnings,” Wyatt said.
“Oh, yeah. It was on a loop on the hospital TV. It’s weird for June, but not unprecedented.”
“So I heard. What happens in a case like this? Would Ronny cancel tomorrow’s charter or play it by ear?”
“Good question. I know what I would do, though the harbormaster might take the decision out of both our hands.” Her brows drawing together, she turned to look out at the sea. “I heard conflicting reports as to when the storm is supposed to hit. What about you? Did you hear anything solid?”
“Nope. No one seems to be scrambling to dry-dock their boats.” Two couples, who definitely weren’t locals, strolled by them, chatting and laughing. “Even the tourists don’t seem concerned.”
“Probably summer people,” she said, glancing at the group. “Temptation Bay has been fairly lucky over the years. That said, we should seriously consider canceling tomorrow’s charter.”
“You want to run it by Ronny?”
“I’ll wait till he asks.”
Wyatt smiled. “Look, how about I get to work here. You can go back to the house and I’ll meet you there when I’m done.”
“No, I’ll help here.” She grabbed a handful of her hair when it blew into her face. “Dammit. I should’ve worn a ponytail.”
“I kind of prefer you wearing nothing.”
She choked out a laugh. “Um, ditto.”
* * *
HE STEPPED CLOSER, his gaze locked on hers, and she held her breath, not sure what he had in mind, and wanting nothing more than to feel his arms around her. But they didn’t dare. “We’ll have to put that thought on hold.” She looked around and didn’t recognize anyone. There were surfers at the shoreline and in the water, even though the swell was small this late in the day. The fishing boats weren’t all in, although she saw quite a few.
When she looked back at Wyatt, amusement glinted in his gray eyes. “Think this’ll help?” he asked, holding out a bandana. “It’s clean.”
“Oh.” Cricket laughed. “Thanks.”
“How about we see to this dock and check on the boat? Then we can figure out what comes next.”
“Okay. But I vote we cook some dinner. I’m sure Ronny’s got beer in the fridge, and since he’s always feeding his band of surf bums, he’s probably well stocked.”
“Great. After we’re finished here we can check out the fish market. See if they’ve got anything decent left.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Cricket had felt Wyatt’s pull since she’d spotted him from up the beach. Missing him at the hospital had seemed silly. Now that he was in kissing distance she realized how much she wanted his touch, his lips pressed to hers. It was foolish, and far too soon to feel this strongly. Not smart at all. Not when she had such important decisions to make, and barring a catastrophe, she had to return to Chicago soon.
She went to scour the left side of Ronny’s slip, and Wyatt went right, but they both kept sne
aking peeks at each other, grinning like kids. Which was how he tripped and almost landed on his face.
Rushing over, she could see quickly that he was all right, just pissed. The way he was staring at the board that had caught his shoe, he meant business. He got out a hammer, then crouched in his board shorts and T-shirt, which showed off all the muscles she’d run her hands over last night. It wasn’t polite to be staring, but damn, his body was like a Lamborghini, built with care and an engine that could go all night.
That got her to look away. Although her shame wasn’t deep enough to keep her eyes averted for more than a few seconds. Besides, she wanted to be at the ready if he hit his finger or something.
Naturally, he handled the problem like a pro, even taking out his level to make sure his work was perfect.
With a confident nod, he stood. “You find any big problems on your side?”
“No, in fact, it looks fairly well maintained.” She sighed. “So you know what that means.”
Wyatt took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “At least he’s getting the works. Whatever’s wrong they’ll find it.”
His touch worked its way up her arm and filled her with a warmth that competed with the sun. “The rational part of me understands that, but it’s that pesky emotional side that keeps sneaking up on me.”
“Well, we’ll just have to keep you occupied.”
She arched her brows at him, and he laughed.
“That’s not what I meant. Not that it doesn’t have merit. Sabrina needed some extra hours tonight, so she’s got the bar. I’d still like to go check in at least once.”
Nodding, she slipped her hand out of his and drifted toward the other end of the slip. “I’m going back to the hospital at around seven thirty, take him his book and some toiletries. He wants me to bring clothes, but I’m afraid he’ll do a runner, so oops, I’ll forget that part.”
“Smart, but he’ll see right through you,” Wyatt said, before crouching to continue his inspection.
“I know. He will. I honestly don’t understand why it seems to be some kind of masculine badge not to want appropriate medical help. It’s not as if getting a checkup means anything but being smart about your own body.”
“There’s a lot of craziness that gets drummed into guys from day one. You think it’s bad with men in general, you should see what happens in the military.”
She stopped and looked at him, but his head was down. He’d already shown he didn’t have a lot of hypermasculine traits, like not listening or being dismissive of a woman’s opinion. Maybe she’d gotten too used to the Grants in her world. There were certainly men in her acquaintance that had admirable characteristics, but they tended to be in the support fields, and not front and center making the big bucks. Then again, she knew just as many high-powered women sharks.
Guess it had to do more with nurture than nature, but what did she know? She’d been brought up by one of the most generous and kindest men in the world, and though her mother was of a different ilk, her main goal was that Cricket find happiness. Of course Victoria’s idea of happiness involved a very large bank account.
“Hey.” Wyatt wasn’t where he’d been a minute ago. In fact, he was on Ronny’s boat. “You find something?”
“Nope. You?”
“Everything looks good. I guess we’re done here.”
Cricket managed a smile, even though it was now quite clear the problem lay with Ronny.
* * *
THE WALK TO the fish market was different, not just because Wyatt had gone there only in the mornings, but because he had Cricket with him. She’d let him know it was all right to show some signs of their connection, and he didn’t hesitate to take advantage of it, which was something he’d have to think through later.
He’d never been much of a hand-holder. He knew a lot of guys who had no problem with public displays, but that hadn’t been in his repertoire. Maybe it had something to do with the strict training he’d received since birth, although he liked to think he made decisions for himself, and not out of concern over how others might see him. But that was probably wishful thinking. He’d been in the military for most of his life and he represented a long line of officers who’d done nothing to bring their honor into question. Until him.
A gust came off the water, spraying a mix of sea and sand. Wyatt tried to block it with his body but all Cricket did was lift her face to the spray, a faint smile curving her lips. Man, it was hard to imagine her living in Chicago. Or any city. She belonged here every bit as much as Ronny.
“It looks like most of the stalls are already packed up,” Wyatt said. “Think we’ll get lucky?”
“I do. With the bluefish running, I know several stands put some aside. At Willy’s they even fillet the fish for you. Which is nice because I want to try a recipe that needs to marinate.”
“Do we need to pick up anything else for dinner?”
“Nope. We’ll be good.”
“And what about this hand-holding thing at the market. You know everyone’s going to make a deal out of it.”
Cricket smiled. “I’ll go with whatever makes you comfortable. As for me, I’m too old and cranky to care what anyone thinks.”
“Good, because I can tell they’re already staring at us.”
“That’s my fish people for you. Living on seafood and gossip.”
“Don’t forget liquor. That seems to play a large part.”
She laughed, and bumped against him as they walked, slowing down just a little. “Have you been here for any major storms?”
“Only one that did any real damage. We lost a small section of the beach. The wind toppled a few trees, broke some windows, a couple of shacks were flooded.”
“Not Ronny’s?”
“Nah, I think he had some minor roof damage.” Wyatt shook his head. “I swear he has a spell on that old shack of his. It seems to be impervious to weather.”
“It’s far from that. When the Perfect Storm hit in ’91, the whole front of the shack was destroyed. He saved some of the more important, sentimental things, but he had to replace everything else.”
“You must’ve been only five or six. Were you here for that?”
“I was with my mom and her family and disappointed that I missed all the action,” she said, grinning. “But in 2006 I was home from college when Tropical Storm Beryl made landfall on Nantucket and we had ten-foot waves. The shack was fine, but Ronny broke his leg while surfing, the dope. Then of course, there was Sandy. We lucked out in the Bay, but the winds were strong and power was out for over twenty-four hours. He had to do some repairs after that, and there’s still a lot to be done.”
“The weather is so unpredictable these days. A June hurricane this far north isn’t all that strange anymore.”
“It’s not truly a hurricane,” Cricket said, and he nodded, having been corrected by the locals a couple of times already. “You have everything you need to get through it?”
“Yep. From water to enough boards to cover all our windows, we’re set, and we have drills throughout hurricane season so everything runs smoothly.”
“Wow, maybe you should mention that to Ronny. He’s such an overgrown kid at times. I swear, he does rain dances for big waves,” she said, just as they hit the market.
“Well, if that isn’t Cricket Shaw then I don’t know what.”
Cricket grinned as Hetty, the woman who did a clambake for the locals every year, stood with her hands on her hips, her wide-brimmed hat bobbing in the wind.
“Hey, Hetty. How come you look like you just turned thirty? I need your beauty secrets.”
Wyatt kept himself in check. He knew for a fact Hetty had spent most of her life on this beach, and she looked it. But the smile she was beaming at Cricket told him far more about the woman.
As soon as they stepped onto the boardwalk leading through th
e rows of stalls, Cricket got swarmed by three other women. There weren’t any tourists or customers that he could identify, but he sure recognized the folks that made their living on the ocean. Every one of them hugged her as if she were family. And directly after each hug, he was stared at, with raised eyebrows and shifty-eyed looks that bounced between him and Cricket. It was as if they had landed in a puppet show with lazy puppeteers.
“Yes,” Cricket said, moving closer to him. “We’re dating. It’s nothing serious. I’ll be going back to Chicago soon. Does that cover it?”
“I heard you were going to help Queenie sue that lazy old man of hers,” one of the women said. “How can I get in on that?”
“I’m not helping, and she’s not suing. Anyway, do any of you have any bluefish we could buy? If it’s filleted, I’ll pay extra.”
“I don’t care about the lawsuit. I heard he can’t go to Sam’s Sugar Shack until Queenie gives the go-ahead.” She looked directly at Wyatt.
He didn’t know all their names, but they obviously knew him. “That’s true,” he said, wishing he’d kept his big mouth shut. “Always glad to be of help.” That got a lot of raised eyebrows, as well.
Not Cricket. Laughing, she looked at him as if he was insane.
“I’ve got some fish in the fridge,” a woman said, then turned to Wyatt. “I’m Rita Mae, Willy’s daughter, and you’re the guy who goes running most mornings.” Not waiting for a response, she gave Cricket and Wyatt one more inquisitive look before she walked away, heading to one of the bigger stands, with Cricket following.
“So, you two seeing each other, huh?” the only guy on the boardwalk asked. “You know, Cricket’s one of our own. Ronny’s kid. Victoria, that’s her mother, she don’t live here no more, but Cricket, she’ll always have a home here.”
Wyatt just nodded.
“I heard Ronny was up to the hospital. What’s he got, cancer? I know too many folks around here got the cancer.”
“We’re not sure what’s wrong,” Cricket called from one stall away. “I’ll tell you about it in a minute, Vern. And don’t you go giving Wyatt the third degree or telling stories. He already knows Ronny, so stop it.”
