“Natalie Grant.”
“Natalie is the new assistant,” Steve said. “She was supposed to take the harbor-walk ladies today, not John-O.”
“It was rescheduled, and you two weren’t here, so John-O took them.”
“We can’t just have willy-nilly schedule changes like that, June.”
June glanced at Natalie with a barely suppressed eye-roll. “Well, they’re gone. Natalie can take the other cart with the volunteers for the center.”
“The center?” Natalie asked hopefully.
“The Friends of the Sea Lion,” Steve mumbled.
Natalie couldn’t help the little soaring in her chest when she heard him mention Dr. Sherman’s center—but it was followed much too quickly by a flutter of butterflies.
She couldn’t remember the last time a man made her so nervous—and it was probably from a job interview, not a date. Maybe she wanted to impress him. What was she saying? She wasn’t trying to impress Dr. Sherman. Her type didn’t impress brainy PhDs. Maybe she just wanted to help him—make sure he didn’t feel bad about his dates and do better on the next one. Or maybe she felt as if she had to apologize for her species—women like Caren, Alice, and Lynne shouldn’t treat shy men like Dr. Sherman that way. All he needed were a few smooth lines and a way to deliver his honesty, to show these women what a wonderful man he seemed to be.
June handed her the ignition keys, and she and Steve went out to the parking lot so he could explain the shuttle’s bells and whistles. It was called the Concierge—a six-seat, open-air, tram-style golf cart with a soft-top roof that had scalloped edges hanging down. It had larger tires than most of the other golf carts she’d seen, probably designed to handle the hills of the island. All except Castle Road, Steve said, which was too steep even for the Concierge.
Just as Steve finished and ducked his head out of the passenger-side seat, an elderly, rotund woman came down the sidewalk ramp, yoo-hooing in her blue “I’m a Friend!” shirt.
“I’m Sarah. But you can call me Sugar,” she said in a sexy Southern drawl.
“I’m Natalie.” Natalie hopped out of the shuttle to help Sugar into her seat, just as Doris and Marie came arm in arm down the ramp.
The women wriggled into the shuttle as two gentlemen made their way down the ramp—the Colonel, who she’d seen earlier with the rose and the three-piece suit, which he still had on, and another elderly man who was taller and looked to be younger—maybe eighty—who still had a shock of thick white hair and whose “I’m a Friend!” T-shirt stretched tightly across a barrel chest and belly.
“Why, hello there, young lady. Aren’t you pretty. I’m George.” He thrust out his hand.
George climbed into the back of the shuttle as the Colonel walked around front to the passenger seat. He swung himself inside in an impressively lithe move that reminded Natalie of the way he might have entered a cockpit decades ago.
“Full speed ahead,” he ground out.
The Colonel proceeded to bark directions to her the whole way there, drowning out the soft female voice of the GPS, while George flirted with Sugar in the backseat, and Doris and Marie began chattering in the middle seat about the fact that someone named Veronica Stevenson was really too young to be Senior Prom queen.
Natalie couldn’t help smiling to herself.
This was going to be an interesting three months.
Elliott stood in the back room, working up the blood samples he’d taken that morning and blinking back the dryness in the contacts he’d been forced to wear until he got his glasses fixed.
He hoped to find a correlation of some sort between how sick the sea lions got and a presence of a certain gene. Another four sea lion pups had been rescued that morning—usually they got four or five calls a month, but now they were getting four or five a day.
The three samples he was testing were from Larry, Curly, and Moe, and he hoped he’d be able to help the little dudes out. They were taking a while to recover because they were some of the youngest pups the center had seen yet, but this morning all three seemed to be on an upswing. But, as excited as Elliott was about this new work, he was surprised that his mind drifted for the fortieth time to Natalie Grant.
Heat formed around his collar at the way he’d run from her inquisitiveness at the bar, and he had to put down the culture tubes he was prepping to lean against the counter and think for a second.
He took a deep breath and told himself to concentrate. He snapped on the Bunsen burner and reached for the vials of blood Jim had helped collect.
He probably wouldn’t see her again. She might come to the center to drop off the seniors for her new job, or maybe check on Larry, Curly, and Moe, but she wouldn’t seek him out, even if she did say she wanted to help him on his dates. Surely that had been her gimlet talking.
He imagined a more likely scenario would be that she’d stay in the main periphery by the pools and wouldn’t even think of him. He was sure someone else could take her on a tour of the sea lions she’d helped rescue. He’d mention it to Doris.
He inoculated each tube with blood from a different animal and tried not to think about her anymore. Eventually, Jim banged through the door.
“Hey, keep that door closed, would you?” Elliott said over his shoulder.
“Your new girlfriend’s here to see you.”
Elliott tried to keep the samples delicately balanced as he brought them to the incubator. He frowned. Normally he might find Jim funny and try to figure out who he meant—his next date tonight, perhaps, courtesy of Nell? What was her name again? Stephanie? But he had to concentrate for a second. He’d lost too much time this morning daydreaming about Natalie; he couldn’t lose all these samples now.
“Did you hear me?” Jim asked.
“I did.”
“I said your new girlfriend is here.”
“Working here, buddy.”
“She says her name’s Natalie.”
Elliott nearly dropped the tube rack.
Natalie stood at the top of the brick walkway and glanced nervously at the laboratory door as she waved to each of her charges. Doris, Marie, Sugar, George, and the Colonel all seemed to know where they needed to be and had told her she could drop them off right at the gate. But she’d parked the shuttle out front and accompanied them all the way up the bricks. She was proud of them and wanted to see where they all worked.
“Bye, honey! We’ll see you in a few hours,” Doris said.
Natalie waved.
And, truth be told, she wanted to see Dr. Sherman. She was embarrassed by her interest, and her hands were already getting clammy, but she glanced at the door where the man named Jim disappeared.
Sea lions barked in the distance while she watched the shadows of the oak trees play along the side of building. Finally, when neither lab coat came through the door, she adjusted her cap and turned on her heel to leave. Maybe he was busy. Or just didn’t want to see her. Or, most likely, just wasn’t interested. Intelligent, business-minded men, like Dr. Sherman the scientist, would always see her as just some pretty bimbo. She might as well accept her lot in life. She wiped her hands along her cargo pants and shuffled quickly down the walk. She didn’t know why she was obsessing over him anyway.
“Natalie?”
Dr. Sherman was walking toward her, his tousled hair glinting in the sunlight, blinking back at her with those long eyelashes she could see clearly again today. He must not have been able to fix his glasses. He had his hands thrust into his lab coat pockets and a hesitancy about his step, as if he couldn’t figure out if he wanted to hurry toward her or turn back around.
Her hands grew clammier. Any bravado she’d found last night to talk to him dissipated. In the light of day, with no alcohol in her, Dr. Sherman looked intimidating again.
“Hi! Dr. Sherman!”
“Please—call me Elliott. Doris calls me Dr
. Sherman, but it sort of embarrasses me.”
“Why does it embarrass you?”
“The PhD thing is still a little new—maybe I’m just not used to it yet.”
She nodded, but she wasn’t sure she could think of him as “Elliott” yet. But she would try. “Elliott then. How are your glasses?” Stupid. Stupid question.
He motioned toward his eyes. “Contacts today. Glasses are getting fixed.”
“Ah.” She waved her hand toward the building where Doris and the others had disappeared. “I dropped the seniors off today.”
All her normal sassy lines flew out of her head, and her heart picked up a ridiculous rhythm that she didn’t recognize at all. She strove to think of something smart to say, and nothing would present itself.
He watched her expectantly.
“I just wanted to say hi,” she finally blurted. “And uh . . .” She scrambled to remember their conversation last night. What had she committed to? Behind her, doors banged at the top of the walkway. “Oh, and see if you needed any help for tonight?”
“About that, Natalie.” He shoved his fists into his lab coat and took another few steps toward her. She liked the way he said her name—softly, with a tenderness around the edges that she wasn’t used to hearing from men. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. It’s cool of you to offer, but I don’t need—”
“WHAT do you not need?” the Colonel bellowed down the walkway. He was peering down at his jacket lapel, seemingly trying to fasten something there.
“Hi, Colonel,” Elliott said. “I was just telling Natalie here that—”
“Can you help me with this, doll?” The Colonel stepped past Elliott and close to Natalie. He only came up to her chin, but he still had a commanding presence. He handed her the pin he was trying to attach. It was a white-and-blue “I’m a Friend!” name tag shaped like a sea lion, with the name Stanley written across the center.
“That’s my real name,” he grumbled. “Anyway, these blasted name tags always poke my thumbs.”
Natalie brought her face close to his lapel and carefully secured the tiny clasp.
“So, what is this you don’t need from Natalie?” the Colonel asked.
“Just her help with something that came up last night when—”
“Hi, kids!” Doris sang out, heading down the path and adjusting her half apron; she had a fresh stack of bookmarks and brochures in two front pockets. “How is everyone today?”
“Sherm was just telling us he doesn’t need Natalie’s help with something,” the Colonel said. “Whatever it is, I’m suspicious. She seems to be good at everything.” He slapped his name tag in satisfied thanks.
“What is it, dear?” Doris asked Elliott.
“Nothing.” Elliott’s neck seemed to be turning a deep red.
“Spit it out, son. We can lend a hand. Doris and I do have a few years of experience.”
“It’s just . . .” Elliott took a deep breath and glanced at Natalie, then seemed to give something up that he was fighting in his head. “Natalie and I were talking last night, and she offered to coach me on the next few dates I have that my sister set me up on.”
“We can do that.” The Colonel slapped him on the back. “Is this the Alice date?”
“Uh, no.” Elliott glanced up at Natalie again and cleared his throat. “This is the Stephanie date.”
“What happened to Alice?”
“She didn’t work out.”
The Colonel shook his head. “You need our help, all right. Stand tall, Sherman. First, you need to start with a proper date pickup. None of this ‘I’ll meet you there’ crap. Pick her up at her door.”
“Well, my sister, Nell, is handling that part, and Stephanie wanted to—”
“Would you want to be picked up at the door?” The Colonel looked at Natalie.
Elliott turned toward her, too.
She blinked against their intense stares. “We’re not talking about me here.”
“Just asking for reference purposes,” the Colonel said.
“Oh. Okay. I guess it would be sort of old-fashioned and maybe romantic,” Natalie admitted. “But most women these days prefer to meet their dates at the location. They don’t want to end up with stalkers who know where they live.”
“ARE YOU GOING TO STALK THIS WOMAN?” the Colonel barked at Elliott.
“Of course not. But—”
“Then pick her up at the DOOR. Shows you care that she arrives safely and gets home safely. Plus, it gives you a few extra minutes with her. Kids these days don’t even know the beauty of the at-the-door good-night kiss.”
The Colonel and Doris exchanged a knowing nod. Elliott turned another shade of red.
“Next, women love when you bring them flowers,” the Colonel continued.
Elliott glanced at Natalie again with a raised eyebrow. “Is that true? In this day and age?”
“DORIS?” the Colonel yelled. “Would you like it if a date showed up at your door with flowers?”
“Yes, that would be lovely.”
“Marie?”
Natalie hadn’t even noticed Marie coming down the walkway, but there she was right behind the Colonel. Marie nodded her agreement.
“What about you?” the Colonel demanded of Natalie.
Natalie blinked harder against everyone’s stares, especially Elliott’s, and tried to picture it. She blushed a little at how cute that would be. “It might be a bit old-fashioned, but I guess I would think he had gone through all that trouble for me, and I’d be flattered.”
The Colonel turned to Elliott with a smug grin. “See? It works. Shows you care enough to spend a little on her—money and time. It’s good form.”
Elliott looked at them all skeptically. “All right. What kind of flowers?”
“Nothing serious. No roses,” Doris said.
Elliott addressed Natalie. “What do you think?”
Natalie found herself blushing again. “I agree with Doris—no roses. Something unassuming.”
“What’s your favorite flower?” Elliott asked.
“Me? It doesn’t matter what I like.”
“I’m just asking.”
“I sort of like gerbera daisies.”
Elliott scribbled on a piece of paper that he seemed to pull out of nowhere. “All right, what else?”
“DRESS NICE!” the Colonel yelled.
Elliott smiled. “You don’t like how I dress, Colonel?”
“You do all right,” he grumbled. “At least you know how to wear decent trousers, and I’ve seen you in a tie. But for God’s sake, don’t wear dungarees.”
Elliott and Natalie both stared at the Colonel blankly.
“BLUE JEANS!” he barked. “Disrespect. If a man wants to show respect, he wears nice clothes, neatly pressed, shined shoes. He puts some effort in, shows her she’s worth the extra time. Sets you on the right course to a good relationship.”
Natalie couldn’t remember the last time a man wore anything but jeans on a date. Let alone picked her up at her door. Let alone brought her a bouquet of flowers. She just went out with guys when they asked to “hang out.” She watched Elliott scribble more notes.
“As soon as you see her, tell her how nice she looks,” the Colonel added. “Agreed?” he asked Natalie.
She nodded. She tried to remember David of the Broken Motorcycle and then Devlan and realized they’d never told her such a thing. At least when she had clothes on.
“THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE!” the Colonel continued. “Her hair, the color of her dress, her eyes. Don’t say anything about her body! I know that’s what you’ll notice first.” He cuffed Elliott lightly near his ear. “Stay focused on something she took time for. Women spend a lot of time getting ready, and we should let them know we appreciate it.”
Elliott jotted down mor
e notes.
“Like Natalie here. What did you first notice about her?”
Elliott looked up at Natalie like a deer caught in headlights. “Um . . .” His gaze made a swift move across her body, but he snapped it back up to her face. “I, uh . . . I like her hats.”
“He did tell me that when I first met him,” she told the Colonel.
“Good!” the Colonel said. “Proud of you, boy. What do you like about her hats?”
“They, uh . . . they remind me of my granddad’s hats—the snap-brim and the fedora—I have some of the same ones from him. She looks a lot better in them, though.”
“You’re better at this than I thought you were, son,” the Colonel said. “So what else did you first notice about her?”
Elliott was still gazing directly at her. “She, um . . . she has beautiful eyes. Intelligent.”
The Colonel nudged him out of the way and looked up to see Natalie’s eyes himself. But she was too busy staring back at Elliott over the top of the Colonel’s head. Elliott bravely held her gaze, seeming to infuse the comment with all the sincerity he could muster. Natalie felt a blush rising up through her cheeks and swallowed hard. No man had ever told her she had intelligent eyes before.
“Nice,” the Colonel said, nodding. “Now tell her something about a body part not connected to her torso.”
Elliott frowned a little, as if confused by such a specific command. “Uh, not connected to her . . . ?” His eyes swept downward again, and he struggled to bring them back up. “Yes, okay. Um . . .” He seemed not to know where to look, but he finally settled on her face. Once there, he slowly took in every feature. His intensity caused her whole body to tingle. “She has pretty lips.”
“Something not used during sex.”
A deep red rushed across Elliott’s face. “Okay. Uh . . . she has beautiful hair.”
“C’mon, you can do better than that. What does the color remind you of?”
“Sea lions, actually. When they’re healthy and shimmery.”
The Colonel cuffed Elliott on his shoulder. “SEA LIONS? Son, girls don’t want to have sea lion hair! Think of something else.”
The Kiss on Castle Road (A Lavender Island Novel) Page 9
