by Terri Osburn
Sid was quiet for nearly a minute, then she said, “I grew up with men. I work with men. I guess I talk like a man.” The statements were made with no apology or regret, but he noticed her white-knuckled grip on the wheel. She wasn’t comfortable with this line of questioning, but she wasn’t fighting him either.
“Do you want to talk like a man? And for the record, not every man talks like that.”
“You saying you don’t curse?”
“I curse. But you can’t throw profanity around a courtroom so you learn to keep it in check.” His first year out of law school, Lucas had made the mistake of dropping a four-letter word in court and nearly found himself in judges’ chambers. He never did it again.
Sid’s grip on the wheel loosened. “That makes sense.” She fell silent again and Lucas returned to watching the old oaks mingle with a cedar here and there.
“No,” she said, sometime later.
“No, what?”
Caramel eyes darted his way, then back to the road. “I don’t want to talk like a man.”
He didn’t know what to say to that so he changed the subject. “Where can I get good, homemade sweets around here?”
If the change of topic threw her off, Sid didn’t show it. “I know just the place.” The wheel jerked left, sending the truck in a tight U-turn in the middle of the street.
Lucas braced one arm on the door and another on the ceiling above him. “What the hell are you doing?” Besides trying to kill him. Maybe this is what Joe was talking about.
“Getting you sweets.”
“This road makes a circle around the damn island. Why the fuck couldn’t we go around?”
Sid tsked. “Such ugly language.”
“I’m less restrained when I’m about to be thrown out of a moving vehicle.”
“If I wanted you out of the truck, I’d have shoved your door open before making the turn.”
Jokes. Now she decided to be funny.
“Where are you taking me?” he asked, straightening in his seat, but keeping a hand on the door handle. Just in case. “It better be worth the whiplash.”
Their eyes met and she gave him a wink. “Trust me.”
“After that stunt? I don’t think so.” Though the wink was actually kind of cute. And the relaxed smile that went with it. When Sid dropped the ass-kicker routine, he thought she might be fun to hang out with. Too bad she didn’t drop the act often.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Minutes later, Sid parked the truck in front of a tiny white building with baby blue shutters. The entrance sat off to the right, while brightly colored rockers occupied the left end of the covered porch. From the eaves hung a sign reading Sweet Opal’s Bakery & Confections.
“I don’t remember this place,” Lucas said as he climbed from the cab. The mouthwatering scent in the air made him forget his near brush with death.
“Hasn’t been here long, but if you came home more often, you’d know there are lots of new businesses on the island.”
The scent grew stronger as he followed Sid up two steps onto the porch. This had to be what heaven smelled like.
“I don’t care about other businesses right now,” Lucas said. A teenager exited the building carrying something that resembled a tart. He nearly followed her to the parking lot. “I’m too busy smelling this one.”
“You always did have a sweet tooth,” Sid said, gaining his attention again.
“How do you know that?”
She pushed through the door, setting off chimes to mark their entrance. “I’ve known you since high school. One year at Joe’s birthday party you nearly punched him when you thought he’d spit on the cake while blowing out the candles.”
He didn’t remember her being there. “Mom worked on that cake all day. Would have been rude to spit on it.” And a waste of a perfectly good cake.
“Right.” Sid’s throaty laugh hit Lucas somewhere below the belt. Had to be the sugary wonder floating in the air.
Sliding up to the counter, Lucas spotted the very food he’d been craving since waking up that morning. “Is that Key lime pie?” he asked, pointing to a meringue-covered confection on the top shelf of the display case.
“Best on the Eastern Seaboard.” Sid stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out a whistle that threatened to split his eardrums. “We need some service out here!” she yelled.
A heavyset woman with bright blue eyes, white hair, and wearing a pink apron that read “Be nice and I’ll let you lick the beaters” stepped through the doorway. She looked pissed. If Sid got them kicked out before he got his pie, he’d never forgive her.
He whispered to Sid. “Ruin this for me and I’ll key your truck.”
As if he hadn’t spoken, and the apron lady didn’t look mad enough to ban them both for life, Sid said, “Roll your ass out here, woman. We’re paying customers.”
Lucas closed his eyes and said good-bye to his Key lime dream. When he opened them again, the older woman was charging around the end of the counter.
When she reached Sid, her arms went wide. “Where have you been for the last few days, darling? I was getting worried.”
Sid stepped into the bear hug like she’d been doing it her whole life. He hadn’t seen her touch anyone in the two and a half days he’d spent with her. When he’d touched one strand of hair that night in the truck, she’d turned into an ice queen.
He could not figure her out.
Once the hug ended, Sid stepped back. “I’m covering over at Dempsey’s since Tom had the heart attack.”
The woman’s blue eyes filled with concern. “I heard about that. Is he okay? Such a lovely man. And Patty too. They’ve been so good to me.”
The praise didn’t surprise Lucas. His parents had been ambassadors for the island almost since the day they arrived. “Dad is doing well, thanks.” When the woman turned to him as if just noticing his presence, he stretched out a hand. “Lucas Dempsey. Helping out with the business while Dad recovers.”
“Opal,” the older woman said, taking his hand. “Are you that fancy lawyer everyone is always talking about?”
Lucas looked down to his beer-stained khakis and worn tennis shoes. “I don’t know about fancy, but yes, I’m the lawyer.”
She switched focus back to Sid. “You never told me what a cutie he is. Hubba, hubba.”
No one had ever used such terms in reference to him, at least not in his presence. Lucas felt the blush rise and also felt like an idiot.
Taking Sid’s hands, Opal pulled her around the counter. “I made your favorite cupcakes today. Put one aside in the hopes you might stop by.” Addressing Lucas, she asked, “And what can I get for you, sweet cheeks?”
He’d called Sid that name a day ago and she’d threatened his manhood. Now he knew why. “A piece of Key lime pie, please.”
Opal’s eyes danced. “Good choice.” Then she disappeared into the kitchen.
Nodding toward the seating area behind him, Sid grinned. “Grab us a table, sweet cheeks.” She escaped into the kitchen before he could think of a good comeback, though truth be told, he had that one coming.
Seeing Lucas red-faced and uncomfortable was adequate retribution for him questioning Sid’s language during the ride over. He hadn’t really judged her on it. Hadn’t called her a name or talked down to her. His question sounded more like curiosity than condemnation.
Beth, who liked to call herself Sid’s fairy godmother, had been trying to clean up her language almost since they’d met. Curly, as Sid preferred to call her, gave orders like be nice and smile more and keep the cursing to a minimum.
Sid ignored all orders, though she’d been trying the be nice stuff on Old Man Fisher with little success. That man needed an enema and a happy pill before he’d soften up. She’d even smiled at him once, even put her heart in it. But still. Nothing.
So what if she cursed like the proverbial sailor? For as much time as she spent on the water, she might as well be one. None of the guys at the dock seemed to mind. Randy
made her keep it down at the gym, but only so she wouldn’t offend the skinny female tourists as they fast-walked the treadmills. Heaven forbid they overindulge on vacation and go home three pounds heavier.
One might say the thought was hypocritical since Sid ran every morning and lifted weights several times a week. But she ran because she enjoyed it, and lifting engines required muscle. Muscle required weights.
Carrying the Key lime pie Opal had sent out for Lucas felt like lifting weights. He’d never be able to eat the entire piece.
“About time you came back,” Lucas said. “I was three seconds away from ripping into the sugar packets.”
“Opal couldn’t decide how big a piece to cut. As you can see, she went with one as big as the damn ferry.”
Lucas’s eyes widened as she set the plate on the table. “Is that a piece or half a pie?”
Sid set her own cupcake down and took a seat. “Opal’s pie pans could double as hubcaps for my truck. That’s a piece.”
Still eyeing the Key lime, Lucas lifted a fork, looking unsure how to proceed. With anything Opal made, the best plan was to go in close to the point. Even then, the height of the creation made getting the bite in cleanly damn near impossible.
He moved the fork to one side, changed his mind, and switched to the other side.
“Just stick the fork in it, Dempsey. It’s not going to fight back.”
“You’re right.” His fork sliced through the meringue, pierced the Key lime, and scooped up a chunk of crust. “Here we go.” Somehow he managed to get the entire bite in his mouth on the first try, though a hint of meringue lingered on his upper lip.
Without thinking, Sid reached out and wiped it off with the tip of her finger. Lucas caught her wrist, sending heat sizzling along her skin, and stared with one brow raised.
“That’s my meringue.”
Sid stuttered. “I was … It was … You had …” She might have regrouped and finished a sentence but his next move struck her mute.
Lucas licked her finger clean, holding it in his mouth longer than necessary for such a small amount of cream. Sid’s brain shut down while the rest of her came alive. Her skin tightened. Her legs loosened. Her toes curled.
With a satisfied smack of his lips, Lucas relinquished her finger, but continued to hold her wrist. His eyes met hers and the usual light hazel shade turned to liquid green. Like damp moss in the sunlight.
“Mmmmmm,” he said, “so good.”
Sid jerked her hand away and slipped it under the table. Her body’s reaction to his seemingly innocent flirtation would prove much more difficult to hide. Looking down, she noticed her nipples showing through her T-shirt. With a quick tug she undid the knot holding it tight in the back, loosening the material enough to fall away from her body.
Thankfully, Lucas was too busy staring at his pie to notice.
They ate their desserts in silence from that point on, Lucas’s attention centered on his plate. Who’d have thought a woman could feel jealous of a slice of pie? If Lucas ever reacted to her the way he was drooling over Opal’s Killer Key Lime, Sid would die a happy woman.
Such a stupid thought. Lucas would never drool over, melt for, nor lust over her. He’d nearly sucked all her brain cells out the tip of her finger, then returned to his food as if they’d been discussing the weather. All the more reason to keep her hopeless fantasies to herself.
Lucas had to keep his head down the rest of their meal so Sid wouldn’t see how much he wanted her. The taste of her on his tongue had been better than the Key lime pie, and that pie might have been the best thing he’d ever tasted in his life. When she dropped him off at his parents’ house, there’d been no offer of a ride for the following morning. Maybe he’d freaked her out. Or grossed her out.
If a brush of the neck made her bristle, sucking on her finger definitely crossed a line. But she hadn’t pulled away, and the heat he felt beneath his hand on her wrist wasn’t from tension.
At least not the unwelcome kind.
Not working together for two days helped create plenty of distance. Joe’s charters had canceled for Sunday and Monday, so they’d switched things up. Joe ran the bar with Sid during the day, and Lucas covered nights with Beth, which went smoother than expected. The awkwardness was starting to fade, and he knew they’d be friends eventually. Beth was a difficult person not to like.
He’d been surprised to see her working the floor as if she’d been waiting tables her whole life. Beth reminded him she’d worked her way through law school as a waitress. Something she claimed she’d told him while they were dating. He had no memory of the conversation, and since he doubted Beth would lie, the truth of his own douchery felt like one more smack in the face.
When had he become such a self-centered jerk?
He and Sid were back together on Tuesday, but something had definitely changed.
“Rum and Coke, two diets, and a sweet tea.” Sid barked off the order the same way she’d done every order of the day. Eyes down and back straight. Then she returned to the floor with the appetizers he’d placed on a new tray for her.
They couldn’t spend the next five weeks like this. He couldn’t anyway. In some masochistic way, Lucas enjoyed Sid’s jabs and steady flow of imaginative yet insulting names for him. And he had to give her credit. In front of customers, she kept the profanity to a minimum.
Lucas filled the drink order and considered how to approach Sid for a peace treaty. They needed to find some level ground where they could work together without all this tension. Maybe even be friends. Though he’d never had a female friend who could likely hold her own in a bar fight and still look sexy while throwing a punch.
“Table nine is getting rowdy,” Sid said, slapping her empty tray on the bar. “Make sure there’s a fresh pot of coffee brewing.”
He nodded toward the back corner. “Frat boys giving you trouble?”
“Nah. Red hatters.”
“Red what?”
“Red hatters, “Sid said again, shooting him that “duh” look of hers. “Little old ladies who wear red hats and purple clothes everywhere they go.”
Lucas covered the snort with a cough. “Are you telling me you can’t handle a bunch of old ladies?”
Sid swiped the now drink-covered tray and balanced it on her shoulder. “You know all those rum and Cokes and whiskey sours you’ve been making?”
No way. “The hatter ladies?”
“Yep. Have that pot of coffee ready when I come back.”
Surely they could handle a few old women who couldn’t hold their liquor. Lucas stepped through the kitchen door, tossed the cold coffee, and put a new pot on to brew. Then he returned to the bar and surveyed the room.
Weekdays weren’t as busy as weekends. Most seats at the bar were empty, as was the majority of Daisy’s section. Sid carried the bulk of the load, but he could see several of her customers getting ready to leave. A glance at the clock showed Beth and Joe were due in less than an hour.
“Show ’em how to do it, Flo!” shouted a high-pitched Southern voice over the crowd. Lucas swung around the end of the bar looking for the source. Rounding the divider that split the dining room in half, he saw a floppy red hat bouncing over a swaying purple body.
The woman seemed to be doing some imitation of riding a horse. That’s what he hoped she was imitating anyway.
“Hello there, ladies,” Lucas said, slipping on his best gain-the-witness’s-trust smile. “You all seem to be having a lot of fun.”
“Well, hello to you, sugar breeches,” said the woman sitting next to the dancer. “You’re just in time. Flo here needs a partner.”
Before he could register that comment, a woman he assumed to be Flo sashayed up behind him and slapped her hands on his hips. Removing her hands, he spun around to find tiny round glasses perched on the end of a button nose, and watery green eyes twinkling under bushy eyebrows.
“Come on, handsome. Shake your groove thing.” Flo then proceeded to bend at the waist and d
o what Lucas believed was called a booty pop.
Afraid she might break a hip, he pulled out a chair and slid it behind her until she was sitting. Then he scooted the geriatric dancer up to the table. “Appreciate the offer, ladies, but we need to tone things down just a little bit.”
The first woman spoke up again. “Relax, honey. We’re just having fun.” Reaching for her drink, she added, “Don’t get your panties in a wad.”
Maybe this was Sid’s grandmother and she hadn’t bothered to tell him. And maybe she’d had enough to drink.
“Nothing wrong with a little fun, but we have to be considerate of the other customers.” Lucas reached for an empty glass. “Why don’t we bring out some coffee?”
The elder version of Sid popped out of her seat and poked him in the chest. “Look, sonny. We’re old enough to drink whatever we want, and no one is going to tell us when we’ve had enough.”
“You tell ’em, Maggie!” cheered a woman on the other side of the table.
Maggie poked him again. “Now send over that little waitress of ours. We’re ready for another round. And it ain’t going to be coffee.”
Handling a gang of angry bikers would be easier than this. Lucas opened his mouth to speak, but that little waitress of theirs joined the fray and spoke first.
“Is this man bothering you, ladies?”
She had to be kidding.
“He’s cramping our style is what he’s doing,” Flo said, wiggling in her chair.
Sid raised a brow in Lucas’s direction, as if he were the problem.
“I’m trying to keep order here.”
“This isn’t a courtroom, Dempsey,” she whispered. Then louder so the group could hear, “He’s just a natural born flirt. We never can keep him away from a table full of hot women.”
That got cheers from the geriatric set. The dirty looks coming his way stopped, but the looks that replaced them made him feel dirty.
Sid tapped him on the arm. “Take your time heading back to the bar so these ladies get a good show for their trouble.”
