Wingmen (Modern Love Story #2, 4, & bonus)

by Daisy Prescott

  Maggie sighed. “Ugh. Seriously? Honestly, I can’t blame her too much. She’s a city girl. Probably never lit a wood stove before today. So you went over and saved the damsel in distress, huh? I’m sure she swooned all over the big, hunky neighbor rushing in to save the day,” she said before falling into a fit of giggles.

  “Sounds about right. Although, there was no swooning. She acted pretty put out by some strange man bursting into the house. What’s her deal anyway? Not the friendliest of types.”

  “I don’t know her to be honest. Quinn and Ryan knew the cabin would be empty and asked if a friend/client/patient of theirs could rent it for the winter.”

  “Ah, New Yorker. Should have guessed by the attitude and stranger danger,” I said. “Figures.”

  “From what I got out of Ryan, she’s going through an ugly divorce. The ex-husband is a finance guy, lots of money and mistresses apparently. She was totally blindsided and still might be reeling.”

  The pieces dropped into place as Maggie spoke. The defensive posture, the hopeless expression. The mismatched socks. Emotional wreck. Danger.

  “You should be nice to her. I’m sure she could use a friend on the island as she recovers. She can be the new me. Maybe less flirting, though.”

  “She could never replace you, Maggie.”

  “You’re sweet. I knew there was a reason I liked you. Be friendly. Bring her fish. Chop some wood for her. Take off your shirt and give her a show while you do it. She might be anti-love, but no woman is anti-eyecandy.”

  I had to laugh. “Right. Bring her wood, give her a show. Got it. I’ll be her dancing bear in a tutu. Anything else?”

  “Do you own a tutu?” Maggie asked, sounding genuinely curious.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “I’m guessing no unless Kelly is into role playing. And my gut tells me she isn’t. How are things with her?”

  “We’re having dinner with her parents tonight.” I scratched my beard out of habit.

  “Oh. Sounds serious. Is it serious?”

  “It does sound serious. And it isn’t. Or at least I didn’t think it was. Her divorce isn’t final, how serious could it be?”

  “Surrounded by divorcees. Poor John. Maybe she finally knows what she has and doesn’t want to let it slip through her fingers.”

  “We’re not you and Gil.”

  “Aww, you said his name. I knew you’d come around.” Her happiness echoed in her voice.

  I glanced up when Jeff’s truck pulled into the lot a few spaces from mine. “Yeah, he’s not too bad as long as he makes you happy. Listen, I need to get going. I’ll be nice to your tenant. I promise.”

  “You’re the best. And thanks for keeping an eye on the place. Give Babe a scratch for me.”

  “Will do.” I got out of the cab after saying goodbye. I did miss the woman. I wasn’t going to lie, it stung a little that Gil had come back in her life, but I had Kelly. And dinner with her parents tonight.

  Joy.

  Dinner with the parents didn’t turn out so well. Food tasted fine. The wine her father ordered was fine. Discussing playoff hopes for the Seahawks? All fine. Not until Kelly’s mother brought up her not-so-ex-husband did the dinner go tits up. Turns out the not-so-ex husband was even less ex than I thought. Like lunch last week not-so-ex. Which would be fine, if Kelly had told me herself. Being blindsided by her mother wasn’t. The woman clearly preferred her daughter not divorce Mr. Successful Suit and marry an “island boy”. Wait. No one said anything about marriage. No one was getting married. Right. Because someone was still married and eating sandwiches with her husband.

  I remained silent on the drive back to the cabin. So did Kelly. My silence was the result of anger and embarrassment. I made the assumption hers was out of guilt. Or shame. Or both.

  What the hell happened?

  “John, I meant—”

  “Don’t. I don’t care if you and Rick had lunch. Lying about it is what bugs me.”

  “I didn’t lie about it,” she said.

  “You lied by omission. Not mentioning having a meal with your ex to your boyfriend is lying. Or something. Something not cool.”

  “Boyfriend?” she asked.

  I glanced at her in the light from the dash. Her eyebrow rose in a question even though she faced the road.

  “Well, yeah. What else would I be?”

  “We’ve never really talked about it. I thought we were on the same page. Having fun. I’m technically still married.”

  Ouch.

  “Having fun. Yeah. Having tons of fun. You’re the one who came on to me last summer. Didn’t reveal the little detail of still being married until after we hooked up. Maybe you aren’t ready to not be married.”

  “Wow. When you put it like that, I’m the bitch and you’re the good guy. That’s the way you want to see it, fine. I’m the bitch.”

  “I have never called you a bitch. This is a lot more complicated than I signed up for. We were having fun … for months. You invited me to have dinner with your parents, which felt like you were saying this is a relationship. You’re giving me mixed signals here, Kelly.”

  She sighed and rolled her head from side to side like she was trying to release a knot in her neck. “You’re right. I should have told you. Both about not being divorced and the lunch date. My mind’s a mess. My mother is pressuring me to make up with Rick.”

  I asked the question I didn’t want the answer for. “What do you want?” Then I waited.

  She sat in silence for a while. The headlights illuminated the dark tunnel of trees flanking the road as we sped along.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Last summer everything was clear in my mind. Rick and I were over. Done. You were a surprise and made everything better. The sex was amazing.”

  I noticed she used the past tense. “Don’t you mean is amazing?” I frowned. Sex wasn’t an issue for us. We had it and it was amazing. Is amazing.

  “I meant last summer, but yes, it’s still amazing. It’s all the other stuff that’s complicated.”

  “Doesn’t have to be.”

  “But I like you, John. A lot. I like the time we spend together. I like it all.”

  “Yeah, but you can’t have both.” The tires of my truck crunched on the gravel of my small driveway. There was no way I was inviting her back in for the night. I wasn’t going to share her, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to be the reason her marriage wouldn’t work out. “Looks like you can catch the ten o’clock boat if you hurry. Otherwise you’re going to have to wait for the eleven.” My voice flat, I stared straight ahead for a moment.

  She spoke softly. “Okay, I get you’re mad, but can we still talk tonight? Or not talk?”

  I didn’t want to talk about this, but I didn’t want to have sex with her either. Not tonight. I felt mad and confused. “Let’s put a rain check on the talk and sex,” I said. I wasn’t sure I meant it, but saying no felt too harsh.

  “Great.” She smiled. Sounding more optimistic, she leaned over and said, “I’ll call you this weekend. Maybe we can go for a hike or something.” She kissed my cheek and grabbed my hand, squeezing it before scooting back to her side of the cab.

  I laughed. Kelly didn’t hike; she must have been desperate. “Yeah, I’ll talk to you then. Tell your parents I enjoyed dinner.”

  We got out of the truck, and I gave her a small wave before heading to the door. Her car’s headlights swung past me when she pulled out of the driveway before leaving me in darkness.

  Inhaling deeply, I gazed up at the sky. I could smell woodsmoke in the air. Stars sprinkled across the clear winter sky. Moonlight gave me enough light to follow the path to the door. The beach in the winter fell into a dark silence with many of the cabins shuttered until late spring. Before I could turn on the hall light inside, I noticed a warm glow coming from Maggie’s cabin. It was good to see her tenant survived her first full day on the island.

  Maggie’s words echoed in my head about being nice to Diane
.

  However, the last thing I needed was another woman in my life going through a divorce. Divorces were messy, and like marriage, avoided at all costs.

  KELLY AND I never went on her hike. Not that I was surprised. Instead, she came over and stayed the weekend.

  Promises of honesty and faithfulness to me followed her explanation about discussing the divorce with Rick over lunch and the two of them seeing a mediator. I wasn’t sure I believed her. After the fiasco night with her parents, I decided I’d step back emotionally. We’d still have sex, but I’d guard my heart again. No reason to risk getting emotional with someone married, even if it was a technicality.

  On Thursday night I found myself at the Doghouse in Langley playing pool with Tom Donnely. Or as everyone called him, Donnely. The Donnelys were one of the oldest families on the island, a place where your cred was based on how many decades your family could call this place home. Fisherman, farmers, ship builders, and loggers founded this land, and a few of their descendants still called Whidbey home. My father used to joke one branch of the Donnelys were the missing link between apes and man. It made me laugh at the time, but some days I wondered if his words were truth.

  Donnely was a ladies man of the worst kind, but also a loyal and lifelong friend. Shaggy blond hair, light blue eyes and fit, everyone said he was handsome. I knew Maggie thought I slept around, but truth be told, my conquests numbered nothing compared to Tom’s. He worked at the shipyard by day and on the weekends carved things with a chainsaw. He loved to brag about his signature piece being “the spread eagle” and laughed when he explained it was the bird.

  Slow winter nights meant the crowd consisted of Tom, me, Olaf the bartender, and a few stragglers sitting at the bar. The woman at the far end of the bar appeared to be doing a crossword or puzzle in the paper. She’d write something, then stop, take a drink and stare at the page for a while, tapping her pen on the bar. I couldn’t see her face, but she was petite, wore glasses, and had her hair in a messy ponytail/bun thing. A giant, gray sweater hung off her shoulders and she wore those tall rain boots girls always wore.

  “Hey, you going to take your shot anytime soon?” I asked Tom, who distractedly stared at the brunette at the bar.

  Tom turned and gave me his devilish grin. “Oh, I’m about to take my shot.” He gestured over to the bar. “Haven’t seen her before. Fresh bait, ya think? You know what they say about girls who wear glasses.”

  “What do they say?” I asked.

  “The quiet types are always the most wild in the sack.”

  “I don’t think anyone says that besides you.” I couldn’t clearly see the woman at the bar, but since we knew everyone who came in here during the winter, if Tom didn’t know her, she must be new. “Probably a tourist,” I said.

  “Perfect. Tourists are the best. Just passing through and wanting some local color.” After putting his cue down on the table, Tom pushed up the sleeves of his green flannel. “I’m going to ask her if she’s ever gone geoduck hunting.”

  I rolled my eyes and walked over to our table to grab my pint. Setting the empty glass on the table, I refilled it from the last of the pitcher. Our ritual was to split a pitcher and play some pool. When we finished the pitcher, we went home. It was later than I thought.

  Donnely stood at the bar, leaning over to talk into the brunette’s ear. He laughed, but she leaned away from him. If body language meant anything, she wasn’t interested in what he had to offer.

  Great. Guess I had to be Donnely’s wingman. Time to step in and either save him from embarrassing himself or save her from Donnely.

  “You’ve never heard of a geoduck before?” Tom leered at the woman, his eyes dancing with mischief.

  “I haven’t. You say they’re a local delicacy? And you hunt them? Are they similar to Mallards?” she asked.

  Oh no. He’d asked her about geoducks. The worst pick-up line in the history of pick-up lines. Unless you weren’t from around here and didn’t know what the hell a geoduck was.

  Donnely chuckled. “No, not so much a duck.” When I headed toward the bar, he asked, “John, you wanna help me out here and tell… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name…” He paused.

  “Diane.”

  “Well, Diane, nice to meet you. I’m Tom Donnely, but you can call me Donnely. This here’s my friend, John. He’s going to explain what a geoduck is, unless you want us to show you.”

  I cringed at his words. I cringed even more when the woman turned on her bar stool. He was right about Diane being new around here: she was Maggie’s tenant.

  Maggie’s tenant, who Donnely was propositioning.

  Great.

  “Hi, Diane. We meet again.”

  Donnely swung his head to examine Diane and me. “Hey, I thought you said you’d never seen her before.”

  “Diane’s renting Maggie’s cabin for the winter,” I said. “We met last week. How’s the wood stove working?”

  Diane stared at me, but dipped her head as if she was embarrassed. “It’s great. Now. Thanks for all your help the other morning. I’ll never forget to open the flue again.”

  Tom grumbled about me keeping secrets, but I ignored him. “Good to hear. You settling in?”

  “I am. I decided to get out of the house and see a movie at the Clyde. This was the only place open after the movie let out.”

  “The island is pretty dead during the winter. You have to know where to look for action,” Tom said. “Speaking of action, I was telling Diane here about the island tradition of the geoduck hunt. She sounded interested—”

  “Hold on,” Diane interrupted, “I never said I was interested in duck hunting. Just asked what type of duck a geoduck is.”

  I could hear Olaf chuckling over by the register, his gray beard bobbing. He shook his head when he strolled over to us. “Miss, ain’t no type of duck involved. Geoducks are clams. And they look like tallywackers. These boys are being rude. Tom, you should apologize.”

  For an old salt, Olaf didn’t take to any tomfoolery or disrespecting women in his place. He could make you feel about fourteen with a few words. We called him O for short, which he tolerated. Barely.

  Diane stared at Donnely. Then gaped at me. I shrugged my shoulders. “Don’t be mad at me. You didn’t give me the chance to explain.”

  Tom wasn’t deterred. “Didn’t mean to be rude, O. I was trying to introduce Diane to some local traditions. Now that I know she’ll be living here, there’s plenty of time to get to know each other.”

  Diane blinked a few times, studying the three of us. The laughter that burst from her lips surprised me—loud, almost a cackle—and her face lit up with the sound. After a moment or two while we all stood there silently watching her laugh, she composed herself.

  “Did you just ask me in some weird island, backwoods way to see your penis?” she asked Donnely, wiping her eyes free of the small tears collected in her lashes.

  I couldn’t help but laugh then. She’d completely put Donnely and his juvenile attempts at seduction in their place. I could like Diane. Somewhere under the messy hair and dumpy sweater hid a feisty woman.

  Donnely shook his head. “It was more of an ice breaker. Wanted to see what kind of woman you are.”

  “Does that line ever work?” she asked.

  Olaf interjected, “You’d be surprised how many times a woman has been lured down to the beach with talk of geoducks. Never happens to the same woman twice, nor does it happen to locals. I’m sure Tom here was sussing out if you were local. Weren’t you, Tom?”

  Calling Donnely “Tom” meant the equivalent of your grandfather dragging you out back by your ear. Leaning my elbow on the bar, I enjoyed watching Tom squirm.

  “Sure, O. Sure. Diane seems like the kind of girl who appreciates a direct approach and a man who can make her laugh.”

  “I really did need the laugh, thank you, Tom.”

  “Call me Donnely. In fact, if you give me your phone, you can call me anytime you want.”


  He was relentless. Normally I’d sit back and watch Donnely dig himself into a hole deep enough to find a geoduck, but knowing Diane was somehow connected to Maggie made me feel protective of her.

  “Donnely, enough,” I said. “The woman just moved here. We don’t want to scare her away.” I smiled at her.

  She stared into my eyes and gave me a small smile.

  I noticed her eyes were light brown and rimmed with long dark lashes. Too late I realized I was staring, too, and glanced away.

  “It’s been nice meeting you, Donnely and John. Well, meeting you again, John.” She acted flustered and her words jumbled together as she reached for her purse. “I’m going to head out. Maybe I’ll see you here again.”

  “If you’re living next to John, you’ll see us again no matter what,” Donnely said.

  “Lucky girl,” Olaf said, wiping down the bar. His tone clearly indicated he didn’t mean it. We weren’t such bad guys and he knew it; even if we did have reputations for playing the field as he called it. It wasn’t easy to be an islander and be single. Most people moved off the island after high school and never came back. Or returned married with the spouse and kids in tow for the summer.

  Or your high school crush moved away, got divorced, and reentered your life. Only she wasn’t divorced.

  Shaking away my frustration, I tuned back in to hear Diane saying her good-byes as she put on her coat. Donnely was putting on his charming smile and trying to get her to stay for another beer, but she refused.

  I grabbed my jacket from our table, then put our empties on the bar, said good-bye to the guys, and followed her out.

  “Since we’re going the same way, I’ll follow you home. Roads are kind of slick tonight,” I offered, figuring I needed to show her I was a grownup and not a perpetual horny teen like Donnely.

  Scanning around, I noticed Diane stood in front of Bessie.

  “Maggie’s letting you drive Bessie?” I asked in disbelief. Maggie didn’t let anyone drive her vintage MG. Except Gil. Bastard.

  Diane bit her lip. “She reluctantly offered the car when she learned I didn’t have one. I promised her I’d get a car ASAP, but I haven’t yet. And I swear I only drive it in good weather.”