The Kiss on Castle Road (A Lavender Island Novel)

by Lauren Christopher

  Elliott dropped his head and stayed by the fence while Natalie and Paige helped Lily give back the gloves, apron, and bottle.

  When they were all ready, Elliott ushered them through the next two stations that Larry, Curly, and Moe would be going through, then to the front of the center, where the barks of healthier sea lions filled the air.

  “Thank you, Elliott.” Paige shook his hand. “You seem to be taking great care of the sea lions. And Lily when she visits. And my sister.” Paige winked at him.

  Elliott’s gaze dropped to his shoes, but he smiled. “I hope you’ll all come back,” was all he said.

  Natalie wanted to shove Paige through the gate. Didn’t she already explain that Elliott was seeing Becky Huffington? What was wrong with Paige? Was she just goading them now, wanting to win the bet that badly?

  But Natalie tried to ignore the spirals of irritation going through her. She and Paige were always competitive, and that’s just how it would always be.

  “Where are you and Becky going tonight?” she asked loudly, to remind Paige to mind her manners. She wrapped her arms around Lily.

  “The Bars and Barks Event.”

  “I’m going tonight, too!” Paige said. “And Natalie is. We’ll probably see you there.”

  “I hadn’t decided, for sure . . .” Natalie injected.

  With a new kind of discomfort swirling between her and Elliott right now, and his insightful guess to the reason for her mancation, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be so near him for an entire evening. And she definitely wasn’t sure she could watch him on another date. Especially one that would probably end with him leaving with Becky. And she definitely, absolutely, wasn’t in the mood to have Paige staring her down all night, watching her every move.

  “Don’t be silly!” Paige said, turning toward her. “You said your senior citizen friends were all expecting you there.”

  Elliott was watching Natalie with what looked like sympathy.

  “Elsa wants to leave,” said Lily suddenly, lifting the doll for proof.

  Elliott laughed. “I’m sure she does.”

  Natalie herded Lily through the front gate and wondered how she could get out of going tonight.

  It was starting to feel like supreme protection for her heart.

  Elliott ushered Becky through the packed Shore Thing bar, waving to several people this time.

  The bar was decked out. Elliott had been to three of these events now, and he knew that when the seniors threw their Bars and Barks Events, they always pumped the 1940s music from any nearby jukebox or speakers, heavy on the trumpets and Tommy Dorsey.

  This event had a clear USO theme going on, with army-khaki colors everywhere; festive red, white, and blue bunting along the walls; and star fabric covering the tables. Along one wall, a table had been set up with snacks in large tin cans, where guests could use “ration tickets” to get candy, popcorn, nuts, and Cracker Jack—a big part of the fund-raiser.

  He handed his ticket to a young woman dressed in USO clothing and bought another one for Becky. The Andrews Sisters sang “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy” from the jukebox, and Becky swiveled toward the back of the room to the jump-blues tunes.

  George approached in a pointed army cap and suspenders and clapped Elliott on the back; Marie had on a USO-girl sharp suit with bright-red lipstick, and she came over and squeezed Elliott’s wrist; Doris, in 1940s roll-curls and lipstick that outdid Marie’s, rushed toward him and pulled his face down to kiss his cheek.

  “This looks great,” he said. “Where’s the Colonel?”

  “He’s the guest bartender for an hour,” Doris said.

  “No kidding?” Elliott peered over everyone’s heads.

  The Colonel would have to stand on a box or something to tend bar, but he did claim to make a mean cocktail. Through the crowd, Elliott caught sight of the neatly combed tuft of white hair. The Colonel was decked out in a service shirt, with medals hanging in colorful rows from his chest.

  “Let’s order a martini,” he said to Becky.

  Becky looked nice tonight. She hadn’t dressed for the theme, but she wore a sophisticated, flowing, white-pantsuit thing, with lots of necklaces. Elliott hadn’t sneezed once in her presence. He tried to stay as focused on her as possible, even though in the back of his mind he’d thought about work at least fifteen times already. Plus, he knew he was going to react all night to anyone of Natalie’s height and hair color that came into his peripheral vision.

  He told himself to focus and steered Becky through the crowd to the bar.

  Halfway there, Jim and Nell caught his attention from a corner booth with red, white, and blue carnations in the center and waved them over.

  Elliott groaned. Nell had been too excited on the phone earlier that he had a second date with Becky. He didn’t want to come under interrogation from her, or too much pushing, but Becky had already spotted her and was shimmying over to the music.

  “Hell-oooo! How are you two?” Nell asked.

  “I thought you weren’t coming,” Elliott said.

  “I found a babysitter, after all, at the last minute.”

  “After a thirty-minute interrogation and rundown,” Jim added, winking.

  “It was not an interrogation,” Nell said. “You just have to be careful these days.”

  “I know, love. You’re a good protector.” Jim scooted farther back in the booth and slapped the seat next to him. “Have a seat, you two.”

  Becky slid in next to Nell, and Elliott sat across from her. He didn’t really want to sit with Nell and Jim. He wanted to be free of Nell’s analysis of how he was doing on this date and just have a relaxed time. As relaxed as it could be anyway, with a bunch of sick sea lions in the center. But—on the other hand—Nell and Jim’s company might make the evening go by a little faster so he could study his notes tonight.

  Within minutes, Elliott spotted Natalie at the bar. She’d dressed for the festivities—a skirt and jacket in soft green, a USO cap on her head, and her hair rolled into 1940s curls. Bright-red lipstick covered her lips, and when she launched into one of her huge smiles at Marie, her lips looked even more delectable than usual.

  “So what do you think?” Nell’s voice drifted into his ear.

  Elliott blinked back at her. “What?”

  “What do you think?”

  “About what?”

  “Elliott, you aren’t listening at all.” Nell turned to Becky. “He’s probably thinking of his formulas again. Elliott is very involved in his work.” She said it with a smile, as if it were a selling point, but then she gave him a swift kick under the table that made him know otherwise.

  Jim cleared his throat as he followed the point to where Elliott’s gaze had been. “Well, we do have a lot of things going on at the center,” Jim said. “I think we should cut Elliott some slack. Hey, Sherm, why don’t you go get us some drinks? Place is so crowded, we’ll never get served. Besides, the Colonel is guest-tending for only another ten minutes or so. Tell him I want one of his famous martinis.”

  “I’ll take one, too,” Becky said.

  “Nell?” Jim asked.

  “A margarita for me.”

  Benny Goodman started up on the jukebox with “Sing, Sing, Sing,” and Elliott headed for the bar filled with half dread, half excitement. On the one hand, Natalie was there, and she was like a flame to a moth. But, on the other hand, he was here on a date with someone else. And he didn’t want to be an ass. He’d just have to watch himself tonight.

  “Hey, you made it,” he said cautiously when he squeezed in beside her. She smelled great—some kind of spicy perfume. He tried not to lean in too close.

  “Elliott! Hi!” She adjusted the cute USO cap on her head. “You didn’t dress up.”

  “Not this time. I should have, though. I have some of my granddad’s old things.”

 
“That’s right—the hats.”

  “Exactly.”

  “This is my grandmother’s.” She pointed to the hat on her head.

  A sensation of warmth swelled through him at that, but as he tried to formulate the right response in his head, she glanced over his shoulder furtively. “How’s your date going so far?”

  Elliott scrambled to bring his thoughts back to Becky. “Pretty good,” he finally said over the music. “She’s back there with Nell and Jim, and—”

  “There you are!” growled the Colonel, stepping up on the other side of the bar. His chest barely cleared the row of glasses across the base of the bar top, but Elliott could make out several of his medals, including a Medal of Honor, which he knew was for valor. He’d always stared at his granddad’s medals—they were kept under glass in the back room.

  “Damn, Colonel, you earned a Medal of Honor?”

  “I was just doin’ my job. Good to see you, boy. And glad to see you two together.”

  “Oh, we’re not toge—”

  “WHAT’LL YOU HAVE, SHERM?” The Colonel leaned closer, clearly having trouble hearing over Benny Goodman’s clarinet.

  Elliott ordered the three martinis and the margarita. When the Colonel frowned at the order, Elliott motioned his thumb over his shoulder.

  “Who are they?” he barked.

  “You know Jim, and that’s my sister, Nell, who’s married to Jim, and my date, Becky.”

  “BECKY?”

  “Yes.”

  The Colonel looked at Natalie. “Do you know about this Becky?”

  Natalie smiled into her gimlet. “Yes, I do, Colonel. She’s Elliott’s date.”

  “Do you approve of her?”

  “I don’t think it matters what I think. It’s probably—”

  “I’m asking for research purposes.”

  “Oh. Well . . . ” She glanced at Elliott.

  He waited for her answer—he was kind of curious, too.

  “I think they’re both very nice, and they make a lovely couple,” she said.

  The Colonel stared hard at Elliott, then nodded curtly and turned to make their drinks.

  Elliott’s brain stalled a little on the “nice” part. She’d called him that once before. “Nice” wasn’t a compliment guys liked to hear. “Nice” was dismissive. It was never the guy who got the girl.

  “So you think I’m nice?” he asked her.

  “Of course.”

  That explained a lot. He was nice. But he’d always finished last that way.

  Even though it wasn’t the arrangement he’d like, it looked like the arrangement she might need right now, especially after the strange way she’d reacted earlier when he’d asked her about her mancation. Maybe something had happened to her.

  “Listen, Natalie, I didn’t mean to pry earlier, when I asked if someone had hurt you, but if you ever want to talk about anything, or—”

  “No.” She waved her hand as if to dismiss the idea, the words, his apology, his offer. “I didn’t mean for that to come up. I’d rather we just forget that conversation.” Her hands fluttered over her cocktail napkin and began ripping at its end. Normally Natalie looked like a tough woman who could hold her own, but right now she looked vulnerable—eyes lowered, hands shaking.

  A flash of anger swept over him when he realized that this must be the case here. Someone had hurt her. He didn’t normally think of himself as a violent person, but right in that second, he had a strong urge to pound whoever it might have been. He slid a sideways glance at her Good Samaritan face, her intelligent eyes, the lips that had only kind things to say, and her helping hands that were shaking, and he pictured finding this jerk and pulverizing him.

  “Whatever you say,” he muttered. “But just know that I’ll listen.”

  She turned sharply and stared at him—a hard, skeptical stare. Long eyelashes blinked a few times. But then her features softened and a tiny smile broke out, which she shyly redirected to her gimlet. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

  That grin was his reward. He wanted to promise her a bunch of things right then—he would promise her anything—if she’d just keep smiling like that. He stood a little straighter.

  All the sounds of the bar fell away. He wanted her to open up to him, to tell her what she obviously had trouble with, to trust him, to let him in. If she did that only as a friend, he’d take that. He realized he wanted her company, and wanted her trust, in any way he could get it.

  But then a polite, but gruff, cough came over his shoulder. “Uh, Sherm?”

  He turned to see Jim.

  “The women are wondering why you’re not back yet with the drinks. Hey, there, Natalie. It’s Natalie, right?”

  “Yes.” She held out her hand. “You’re the one who keeps finding Elliott for me.”

  “Jim Stout.” He shook Natalie’s hand, then huddled closer to Elliott. “So can I tell them that you’ve already ordered, but the Colonel is just taking a while?”

  “That’s the situation. So yes.” Elliott tried to keep the irritation out of his voice.

  “All righty then.” Jim turned his bearish body. “As you were.”

  “Who’s this?” came a higher voice over their shoulders.

  This time it was Natalie’s sister, crowding Jim back in.

  “Hi, Paige,” Elliott said. “This is my buddy Jim. Jim, this is Natalie’s sister Paige.”

  “He’s checking on the drinks for his wife and also Elliott’s date,” Natalie informed Paige.

  Glenn Miller’s “In the Mood” struck up, and the crowd all seemed to turn in unison to the dance floor. Several talented couples headed out to do impressive swing moves. Much to Elliott’s chagrin, he looked up to see Becky coming toward him, her hands outstretched and pointing to the dance floor.

  He shook his head, but she kept approaching, with Nell right behind her.

  Next thing he knew, Becky and Nell had him and Jim each by the hand and were dragging them across the parquet flooring.

  This night was off to a terrible start.

  CHAPTER 15

  Natalie watched Elliott and Jim being led to the dance floor and felt a little sorry for them. But only a little. It was probably good that Becky was getting Elliott to loosen up a little and maybe have some fun.

  “Huh. So he really is going out with Becky,” Paige said.

  “Of course. I wasn’t making it up.”

  “Too bad. And too bad his buddy is married. He’s cute.”

  “Leave them alone, Paige.”

  The Colonel slid two martinis across the bar. “One more coming up.” He looked around. “Where’s Sherm?”

  “Dancing.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  They all turned toward the dance floor, where Becky was sort of dragging Elliott around to the fast swing number. He was all elbows and limbs, but he seemed to be trying.

  “Well, he’s not going to win any awards now, is he?” the Colonel asked.

  Natalie took a sip of her drink to hide her smile. She thought he looked kind of adorable.

  “I have one more minute on the clock, then we’re going to help that boy out,” the Colonel said, shaking his head. “Doris? We have an emergency here!” He motioned her over, pointed at Elliott, then wandered to the other end of the bar to retrieve two more drinks.

  A few minutes later, Doris was out there with Elliott, showing him a few basic swing steps, and Becky had swept up poor Jim. Nell had found John-O, and Paige had taken up with George. The Colonel came around the bar and pulled Natalie out, snapping her toward his ribboned chest. He was surprisingly good. He danced slowly but lithely, and always on beat. Natalie tried to match him with some basic Zumba moves she’d just learned. She was doing more of a cha-cha, but it worked with Glenn Miller.

  “In the Mood” ended, and the music
slowed with an Ella Fitzgerald version of “I Could Write a Book.” The couples all stepped back from each other and took deep breaths, wiping their brows.

  Natalie saw Elliott breathe a sigh of relief and look up from his feet at his partner, Doris, but then Doris picked up a waltz pose with him and swung him in her direction to Ella Fitzgerald’s breathy voice. The Colonel lifted Natalie’s hand and swung her the other way. And next thing she knew, Natalie ended up with Elliott, their arms both raised in the air, gripping molecules. Doris and the Colonel sailed off smoothly together to the other side of the floor.

  Elliott’s eyes widened until he finally rested his hand on Natalie’s hip and fell into step. He was only slightly better at the waltz than swing, which wasn’t saying much. But finally she stepped closer and let him move to an even slower beat, just barely rocking back and forth.

  “Thank you,” he said over her shoulder. She could hear the smile in his voice.

  “No problem.”

  They kept a tiny distance between them, moving in a simple circle. Elliott’s raised hand felt a little moist in hers, his other warm on her hip. He smelled spicy—aftershave he must have put on for Becky—and Natalie wanted to lean closer, but she decided against it. Leaning too much into him would be inappropriate. He was the perfect height for her—she loved that her lips came to his chin, and she was so close she could see the stubble follicles along his jaw. She could understand why the seniors always described dancing as a perfect date—standing so close to a man you didn’t know, seeing the stubble follicles along his jaw, and smelling the soap he used, which were such intimate, morning-after things, was delicious. Maybe the Colonel and Marie and Doris were onto something when they said they knew a better way to date.

  Natalie had a brief, reckless thought of kissing Elliott on that stubble right now. She wanted to put her hands on his chest, just to feel if it was as taut as it had looked in the morning sun today. She wanted to nestle into the warm spot at his collarbone. She wanted to wrap her arms all the way around him and bury herself into the spicy warmth he seemed to offer. But all those things were not hers to have, so she restricted herself to just another inch, leaning only close enough that she thought she could feel his heart beating. Or maybe that was hers.