Better Love

by Daisy Prescott

  “Ask her what she’s wearing.” Carter earned a middle finger from his brother and a scowl from me.

  Feeling like I was prying, I left the Kelsos’ table. On the way to the kitchen I stopped to speak with a couple of other regulars. In the back, I found Coop making dough in our giant Hobart mixer. A cloud of flour circled his head of dark, curly hair. The secret to pizza fell into two categories: good dough and good sauce.

  If one of those fell short, no topping could fix the pie.

  Jeff came out of the walk-in with chopped veggies to restock the toppings. He held a heavy bin on one of his broad shoulders and balance a tray on his muscular forearm. Shorter than me and stocky, he had the appearance and tenacity of a overly friendly pit bull. Keeping with the dog analogies, Coop would be a lab mixed with something mellow like a Newfoundland. I guess that would make me a gray wolf. Or an Irish Wolfhound.

  “You need me?” I asked, knowing they’d tell me to leave.

  “Get out of here, Boss.” Jeff set down his tray and waved me out of the room. “You’re taking up space.”

  “I’m going to swing by the bank and make the deposit.” I grabbed my backpack, the bank bag, and my skateboard.

  “Don’t break a hip, old man,” Coop yelled at me as Jeff laughed.

  Asshole employees. I was half-tempted to call them whipper-snappers. Or millennials. They hated the M word.

  Dropping the board on the asphalt outside the kitchen door, I tucked the deposit bag into my backpack. With a kick, I stepped onto my custom bamboo longboard. I had my tattoo artist in Capitol Hill sketch out the design of a pin-up girl holding a slice of pizza. Her auburn hair curled over her bare shoulder and her bright blue eyes sparkled above full red lips. At one point I’d thought of making her the logo for Sal’s, but it felt too personal.

  Main Street in Freeland was pretty empty for the afternoon and I slid into the right lane, heading downhill to the bank. I carved a few wide turns to slow my speed before making the slight uphill curve to the bank parking lot. I had enough momentum to carry me to the sidewalk in front of the main door. With a hop, I flipped the board, grabbing it with one hand as I stepped off and came to a stop.

  A couple of middle school boys rode past on their bikes, calling out to me, “Nice moves, Pizza Man!”

  I waved and entered the bank before they could see the silly grin on my face. I loved skateboarding. Yeah, in my forties I was probably too old to do most tricks and my dreams of being in the X Games faded a long time ago, but I still enjoyed cruising on a board rather than walking if I could. Downside of living in a rural place: not a lot of sidewalks and narrow, curving roads.

  Inside the bank I avoided getting trapped making small talk, aka gossiping, with the two female tellers who always insisted on flirting with me. Pretty sure I could’ve been their sons’ ages. Deposit made and change sorted for tomorrow, I headed back up the hill, pushing off more than I coasted.

  I caught my breath before entering through the kitchen door, knowing the guys would give me shit about being old and out of shape if given the opportunity.

  “I’m heading out for the rest of the day. Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.” I tossed the day’s change bag on the counter and left before I could get sucked back into work.

  I had a date and I didn’t want to miss it.

  I set my kayak half in the water, half on the beach before climbing inside. With my paddle, I pushed off the shore and into the shallow, clear water of Holmes Harbor. Situated on a medium bank above the water, my house came with over three hundred feet of tideland rights. Unlike my neighbors, I didn’t have a dock or a fishing boat. Truth be told, I didn’t really like fishing. Sitting still in a boat made me crazy. I tried meditating while waiting for the fish to bite. Didn’t work. In order for me to clear my head, I needed to be in motion.

  Breaking the surface of the water with my paddle, I pulled my kayak north past Beverly Beach toward the opening of the bay. A fish, probably a salmon, jumped out of the water ahead of me, taunting my dislike of fishing. Sometimes the local pod of orcas or a migrating gray whale would swim alongside my kayak. Those were moments a man didn’t forget and couldn’t replicate with chanting Om and visualizing waterfalls.

  Yeah, my hot date was with my kayak and the open water.

  Unlike during a summer weekend, I didn’t pass another boat on my usual route. I heard the buzz of chainsaws in the woods above the bluff and the voices of children playing echoing over the water, but otherwise there was no sign of humans.

  Heaven.

  The paddle scooping the water and my breathing created a solitary soundtrack. I could stay out here for hours, and some days I did if my scheduled allowed. Sometimes I’d paddle back into Freeland and grab groceries for dinner before stowing them in the boat’s hatch and returning home via the water. Like a solo Lewis without Clark.

  One of my biggest luxuries since moving to the island had been time alone and away from people. Until I moved here, I’d never allowed myself to escape society or its expectations for me. Other than some Outward Bound solo trips, I couldn’t think of long periods of my life where I’d not been surrounded by people: family, siblings, roommates, girlfriends, business associates, colleagues, employees, customers, friends, and lovers. Popularity had taken its pound of flesh. I’d paid for it with small pieces of my soul, happily given away until I realized I was full of holes.

  Now I’d swung the pendulum in the opposite direction. Sure I still interacted with my employees and business associates, people at the store, or bank. Hell, I sat around and watched sports with a group of guys like men should, and I played chess with an honest curmudgeon. Otherwise, I kept to myself to the point of isolation.

  Not loneliness.

  No, I wasn’t lonely. I was alone.

  Water dripped off my paddle as I pulled it from the water and let it rest across the bow of my boat. Ahead lay Saratoga Passage. To the right stood the rocky outcropping of Baby Island. Less an island than a gathering of rocks, it stood at the opening to Holmes Harbor. I stared at the tiny island, imagining myself in its place. Close enough to the Whidbey, but separated by enough water to isolate it. At least a high tide. Too small for a house or other structure, it was a popular place for birds and the occasional seal.

  Nothing grew on Baby Island.

  The rocky, barren landscape stood out in sharp contrast to the deep green of the larger islands surrounding it.

  A man could get philosophical about islands the way Thoreau did about woods.

  I picked up my paddle and used it to turn the kayak around to head home.

  ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON, Second Street in Langley bustled with people, dogs, and vendor tents. Jeff arrived earlier to set up Rosie near Useless Bay Coffee and the glass studio. Having a mobile pizza oven had been Jeff’s idea last year. He thought we could cater parties and bring hot pizza to the local farmers’ markets. We found the portable oven and had Tom Donnely help us weld some custom features on her trailer.

  This summer Rosie’s been a huge success. I gave Jeff all of the credit even if it was my twelve grand that bought her. You wouldn’t believe how expensive a wood-fire pizza oven could be. My first car in college cost less. Back then a summer job could pay for a car and gas for the year. I was beginning to sound like Olaf complaining about kids these days.

  “Get off my lawn,” I muttered to myself.

  Jeff gave me a weird look as he managed a group of teenagers ordering slices. “Did you . . . did you just tell those kids to get off your lawn, old man?”

  “No. Was thinking out loud about the good old days of the nineties.” I slid a pizza off of the wood peel and into the oven. “Can you watch Rosie for a few minutes? I need to talk to Erik about something.”

  “Sure. I’ll make sure no middle-schoolers egg our booth while you’re away.”

  I returned Jeff’s salute with a single finger to my forehead. “Try not to burn down the place.”

  I knew enough from my previous life
not to micro-manage my employees. Jeff had been with me from day one at Sal’s. He’d shown up when brown paper covered the windows and the walls were bare studs. Said he saw a wood burning pizza oven being delivered and wanted to know if I needed help. Nosy bastard never left. He could run the business if I let him.

  Okay, so maybe I had a few control issues. I liked working. Did I need to? No. And that was probably the secret to why I enjoyed it. The daily repetition of making pizza, seeing familiar faces, knowing I’d fed someone well was enough to get me up in the mornings. I didn’t need glory or fame.

  I waved to the vendors I knew as I skated by them on my board. Sally at the Tilth Farm booth winked at me and pointed at her butternut squashes. Knowing her, she could either have meant for pizzas, or their girth. Hard to know.

  Weaving my way to the other side of the street, I smelled the coffee from Whidbey Joe’s before I reached their booth. Erik and Jonah stood side by side loudly discussing the merits of pour over versus French press brewing methods. A small group of women listened to them as if it were the most fascinating conversation ever. Behind the coffee fangirls stood Cari, Erik’s girlfriend, with her head close to another woman, lost in conversation.

  I skidded to a stop and was about to tap Cari on the shoulder when the other woman turned her profile toward me. I knew that face. At one point its features had been as familiar as my own. I froze as a thousand memories collided in my head the moment I recognized her.

  Roslyn Porter stared at me as if I’d walked through a wall like a ghost.

  I understood the feeling. I never expected to see her standing on Second Street on a Friday afternoon.

  Yes, I recommended she work with Erik, but I didn’t know she came to the island. There should’ve been a warning system for exes approaching on the ferry. Like the emergency alerts on our cell phones. Amber alerts for grown-ups with emotional baggage. A tracking app for old attachments to prevent awkward situations at the grocery store. Or while standing in the middle of the street minding my own business.

  Someone needed to make an app for life in a small town.

  A man deserved a little warning when he was about to be face-to-face with his past.

  “Dan.” Erik stuck out his hand for me to shake, clearly not noticing my shock. Or maybe I was that good at hiding my emotions.

  “Hey,” I said in a flat tone.

  “Do you remember Cari?” He gestured to my left on the other side of the tent pole. I knew if I let my gaze shift, I was doomed. I needed a minute or sixty to calm my racing heart.

  Inhaling, I nodded and braced myself. “Hi, Cari. Nice to see you again.”

  I’d barely turned my head to acknowledge Cari when familiar dark blue eyes met mine.

  “Hello,” I said automatically, my manners firmly in place.

  If I thought I’d steeled myself to face her, my unexpected appearance had shocked her. For a brief moment, her eyes widened and her lips parted before she composed herself into a professional game face.

  “Daniel.”

  Erik chuckled and repeated my name in a slight falsetto. “No one calls him that. Daniel doesn’t rhyme with pizza man.”

  Ignoring Erik, I faced my past. “Hi, Roslyn.”

  Five years hadn’t changed her appearance all that much. Nor had they dimmed my body’s reaction to her beauty. My gaze flicked down her neck and body, taking in the curves I’d memorized with my hands and mouth, before returning to her heart-shaped face surrounded by deep auburn hair.

  Her expression told me she’d observed me checking her out and had already formed an opinion on my action. With a frown, she stared at the board in my hand for a few seconds before shifting her gaze back to my face.

  We stared at each other, not speaking or moving. Erik fidgeted and Cari shifted on her feet, but Roslyn and I stood as if turned to stone by Medusa herself.

  “I forgot you two know each other.” Cari attempted to break through the awkward tension.

  “Oh, we go way back,” Roslyn said softly. Lifting the corner of her mouth, she gave me a half smile. “Don’t we?”

  I didn’t know how much or exactly what she wanted to share, so I merely nodded. Because of the way I cut things off, I would let her control our backstory. We had a professional relationship before things became personal. Before I walked away from both.

  Like a fool.

  Even as I tore apart the life I’d worked so passionately to build, I knew Roslyn Porter wasn’t a throw away girl. If a man was ever lucky enough to have a woman like her in his life, he held on tight. Only a fool would’ve let her go without a fight.

  “Erik needed help and Roslyn’s the best.” The praise came easily because it was the truth.

  “Saved my ass,” Erik said enthusiastically.

  “Literally.” Roslyn smiled at him.

  “Thank you for that,” Cari added.

  “You’re welcome. It’s what I do. Men make dumb decisions and I make the consequences go away,” Roslyn replied. “Right, Dan?”

  I pressed my lips together and rolled them before forcing a smile. “Like I said, you’re the best.”

  “How do you two know each other again?” Cari was like a dog with a new toy. She couldn’t let it go.

  “I was one of the dumb decision making men. Roslyn was hired to manage me.”

  Erik and Cari exchanged a look at my words while Roslyn sipped her coffee.

  “That was a long time ago. Ancient history.” I wanted to drop the subject of me. “Erik, what’s going on with Naked Whidbey?”

  “Glad you asked. We’re moving forward with the calendar to raise money for prostate research.”

  “Great cause. Let me know how I can help.”

  A silent conversation occurred between the three of them, consisting mostly of head jerks and shifty sidelong glances.

  Fidgeting, I brushed my hand over my beard near my chin. “What did I say?”

  “Nothing. We’d love for you to join the calendar.” Cari toyed with her straw. “In fact, you can have your own month.”

  “Are you having local businesses sponsor the months?” Confused, I felt a wariness building.

  Cari’s words came out in a tumble. “Sure. Kind of. Obviously, Erik and Jonah will represent Whidbey Joe. John and Tom are taking a couple of months.”

  “Cari’s left out a key point.” Roslyn’s cool gaze met my mine.

  Erik’s snort drew my focus away from her. “It’s a naked calendar. Every month is a different guy. Doing something naked.” His eyes widened. “No, not sex or anything like porn. Normal stuff. Like making coffee or, in your case, pizza. Funny, but sexy.”

  My eyebrows rose toward my hairline as he spoke, but I directed my question to Roslyn. “You approved this? I thought your job focused on keeping scandalous pictures of your clients offline.”

  “It’s for a good cause.” She nudged Cari’s elbow. “Plus, it will be a controlled environment and the photos will be tasteful. I’ve seen similar concepts do really well for charities.”

  “British rowers.” Cari sighed.

  I glanced behind us to see if anyone was eavesdropping on our conversation. Seeing we had a little privacy, I spoke, “Hold on. You want me to pose naked for a calendar? With other naked guys?”

  I’d had my history of gym locker rooms and college shenanigans, but as far as I know, no photographic evidence existed of said public nakedness.

  “Are you shy now?” Roslyn asked.

  Memories of a naked weekend in a cabin in the San Juans flashed unbidden into my head. Wildflowers in her hair made her resemble Botticelli’s Venus in the warm sunlight. I couldn’t remember who banned clothes that weekend, but if it was me, damn, I was brilliant.

  Taking my silence for insecurity, Cari attempted to reassure me. “If it’s because you think you’re too old, trust me, that’s not even an issue. I know a ton of women who think you’re hot.”

  Erik choked on his own tongue. My mouth gaped open as I stared at Cari. Roslyn appeared
to fumble her cup, sloshing coffee out of the small hole in the lid before recovering.

  “Nice catch,” I said automatically.

  Cari grinned at me. “It’s true. Most of the women I’ve met on this island have crushes on Dan.”

  I returned her smile, suspecting she was one of the women she spoke about. A professional flirt with a pixie’s charm and the purple hair to go along with it, Cari could hold her own with most any man, including me. We didn’t know each other well, but from what I did know about her, she was madly in love with Erik Kelso.

  And way too young for me.

  Despite sensing Roslyn’s stare, I chose to ignore it, directing my words at Cari. “You flatter me. My ego thanks you.”

  I ignored Roslyn’s derisive snort, too.

  “So you’ll do it? The vote was unanimous you should be in the calendar. Please say you’ll do it. I’m shooting the pictures, so it won’t be awkward to disrobe in front of a stranger or anything.”

  “I’ll be there, too,” Erik practically growled.

  I understood those feelings of possession and protectiveness. He had nothing to worry about from me. “No, not awkward at all. I suppose you’re part of these photo shoots, too?”

  Roslyn nodded. “There are NDAs involved, if that makes you feel better.”

  Oh sure. A non-disclosure made being naked in front of an ex all right. Then again, I had nothing she hadn’t seen before.

  Honestly, I didn’t know how to read her reaction. Her game face covered her emotions like a pro. Not wanting to stare, I studied her from the corner of my eye. If she was uncomfortable, she’d schooled herself to relax her shoulders and keep her brow neutral. I wouldn’t want to play poker with her. When she lightly scratched above her brow for a third time, she finally revealed her tell. The idea of being around me did affect her and made her uncomfortable.

  One problem. I couldn’t tell if it was a good kind of uncomfortable.

  “Come on,” Erik interrupted my thoughts, “everyone’s doing it.”

  “Pretty sure you’d never get Olaf or Bert to sign on for this.”