ROOM...BUT NOT BORED

by Dawn Atkins

  "You think because I don't want to own a scuba shop I'm irresponsible? Look, my life works just fine for me."

  "And mine works for me. There's nothing wrong with working for your dreams."

  "That's the point. I'm living my dream, Ariel. You're just working for yours."

  "That's bull. You want more than just hanging out at the beach. I know you do. You want a home, a place for all your junk—for a guy who hangs loose, you sure drag around a lot of equipment."

  "What are you getting it?"

  "I'm not your father telling you to buckle down and sail right or whatever. I'm trying to help you do something more you might like if you weren't so pigheaded."

  "Leave my father out of it. And at least I admit I'm pigheaded. This is who I am, Ariel. Take it or leave it."

  She looked at him for a long, painful moment. How could she take it? The struggle would be endless, with him tugging her away from what mattered to her, refusing to budge an inch. How long could she look at the bicycles against the wall, the scuba gear everywhere? He'd been working on the house for weeks and still wasn't close to finishing. And he was thinking about moving to Florida, for God's sake. She'd been in a trance.

  "I think we should talk about this when we're both more calm," she said.

  "It's okay," he said quietly. "I get it. We're done. I'll move in with Brice."

  "You don't have to leave," she said, panicking at the thought. "Not right away, I mean."

  "No. I should have moved out when you asked me the first time. It would have been the responsible thing." He flung the word responsible at her like a Frisbee aimed at her gut.

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  «^

  That was that, Jake thought, stomping out of the house for a swim to cool off. He was moving out after all—and it was his idea this time. He should have known Ariel would be trouble the minute she ran head-on into him in her business suit that first day. She was work-crazed, uptight and demanding. He'd known that from the start. But she was also eager and so fun to amaze.

  He'd never stuck around for a relationship before, never wanted to, and now he knew why. It was one big pain in the ass.

  He'd get over it. Move on. That was one good thing about growing up in the Navy. You knew how to move on.

  He swam for a steady hour, but still felt that tightness in his chest, that burning emptiness in his stomach. Maybe he was just hungry.

  He headed to his favorite place for a smoothie and a falafel, pleased to see a couple of surfing buddies hanging there. He hadn't seen these guys in a while—he'd been spending entirely too much time trying to straighten out Ariel.

  There was a new girl behind the counter. Kiki, according to her name badge. Very cute. And the opposite of Ariel—a tall, long-limbed blonde with a lazy smile. She gave him the look.

  He tried to return it, but failed miserably. The idea of being with her just made him tired. Panic flickered through him. Was he getting old after all?

  He couldn't ditch the memory of Ariel's tight little body tucked against him in sleep. He craved her, felt sick with longing for her, even missed her bustle and chatter. He was a fool.

  Okay, this was a normal reaction after a breakup—for most guys, anyway. Of course, he wasn't most guys. He'd left lots of things he loved and never before felt this ache in his bones like something permanent was broken.

  When the smoothie came—smelling deliciously of raspberry and banana, with that earthy wheat-germ density—he could barely get down a swallow. And the falafel turned his stomach. Hell, Ariel had even ruined his appetite.

  He had to do something—talk Brice into letting him stay there maybe. He stomped into the cottage—Ariel didn't even look up from where she was banging away at her computer sniffling—and threw some things into a bag. As he crammed clothes into his duffel, he saw that he had accumulated a lot of stuff. She'd been right about that. Screw it. He could sell it or give it away. He didn't need the stuff or the place to store it, or Ariel, or anything. He could start over any time. Anywhere.

  Brice looked up from his adding machine when Jake walked in. "You look like you lost your last friend," he said. "I know that's not true because I still like you, ya bum."

  Jake shrugged. He felt like he'd been slammed to the sand by the mother of all waves—scraped raw, inside and out.

  "Trouble at the beach house?" Brice said, nodding slowly.

  "You could say that."

  "You'll work it out…" He held Jake's gaze. "You'd better. You need that woman to settle you down."

  "Look who's talking. You haven't settled down."

  "Just an act, my friend. Tears of a clown. Sylvia was my one love, and I let her go because I thought I was too young to limit myself to one woman." He shook his head.

  "You could find someone else if you wanted to."

  "Not like Sylvia. She's my one and only. You might find it hard to believe, but I'm not that easy to be with."

  "Right." Brice was a stubborn, finicky old coot.

  "But I'm fine. I'm happy. I have my shop."

  But a shop didn't hold you tight at night, as if for life itself. A shop didn't sigh over your cooking or make smart-ass remarks about your work habits or hang up your towels before you'd even finished using them.

  Yeah, but Ariel wanted to change him. He could see that look on her face. Not good enough. Be better. The same look his father gave him. It made him want to bust out, blow off the whole thing. "Can I crash on your couch for a few days, Brice?"

  "If you cook—and buy the food—stay as long as you want."

  That was set. For now, anyway. He wasn't looking forward to it, though. Brice's couch was lumpy as hell and the man snored like a chainsaw. He'd find another place soon and move on. That was best.

  He and Ariel were like oil and vinegar. They made a nice dressing, but it would take a paint spinner to keep them blended.

  He'd bounce back, he knew. Like picking himself up from a wipeout. Except something seemed to have shifted inside him, something deep.

  Okay, so he'd need more time. Maybe he was getting older. Maybe he needed a place for his junk. Maybe wipeouts were taking more of a toll…

  * * *

  Ariel spent the entire next day leaving unanswered messages for Myron Becker and holding back tears about Jake. She forced herself to be sensible. Her misery was proof how smart she was to end it now. She'd been fooling herself to think Jake could ever be a compatible life partner.

  When Myron hadn't called by three-thirty, she knew she had to take drastic measures. She called his secretary, Sue, who by now knew her voice. "I know he's ducking me, Sue. Tell him I'm coming to New York. I'm going to camp outside his office until he meets with me. Tell him that, please. I'll hold."

  Sue sighed an enormous sigh, but sent Ariel to Muzak. After two full songs, she was back. "Twenty minutes, no more," she said. "Be here by three tomorrow."

  As soon as Ariel hung up, she ordered a small thank-you flower arrangement for Sue. Okay, she had a chance. And this time she would not blow it. She paid for her ticket online and went to get something to eat before packing.

  The beach house felt so empty with Jake gone. Funny, when she'd first moved here, she'd have given anything for this rich quiet. Now, she couldn't think without Jake's music, his whistle, his bang and clang and thump.

  She opened the refrigerator, knowing she should eat, though her appetite was completely shot. The shelves bulged with leftovers from Jake's cooking. The sight made huge tears swell in her eyes. Never again would he hold out a forkful of huevos whateveros for her to sample, or butter her a muffin or bake her a cake. She shut the door and leaned against the fridge, trying to get herself under control. Hell, she was crying over leftovers.

  The phone rang. Grateful for the distraction, she lunged for it, practically falling on her face on the desk. "Business Advantage," she said on a gasp.

  "Ariel? It's Trudy. How's it going?" Her voice sounded far away and falsely cheerful.

&nb
sp; "Trudy? Hi. Fine. Everything's fine," she said, not wanting to reveal the embarrassing screw-up she was in the midst of rectifying. "More or less. How about with you? Enjoying your fabulous new life?" She braced for more of the tales of quaint Greek villages and watercolor paintings that had peppered the two conversations they'd had in the past month.

  To her amazement, Trudy gave a shaky sigh. "Actually, things are kind of rocky right now."

  "You're kidding."

  Trudy gave a strangled laugh. Definitely not a tinkle or a trill. "No. This will sound insane, but Paul and I spend every glorious minute together seeing amazing things…" then she whispered, "and I'm bored out of my mind."

  "You're bored?"

  "I miss Business Advantage. I have no purpose here. Sure, I love Paul, but I don't do anything. And it's starting to affect me. We were at a cocktail party with some of his executives and the operations manager mentioned a turnover problem and I practically barnacled myself to the man advising him. Paul had to drag me away. I embarrassed him, can you believe it?"

  "I'm sorry, Trudy."

  "He was right—and wrong. We had this terrible fight, where I accused him of treating me like a brainless trophy. Can you imagine?"

  "No." But she could. Trudy could be fierce.

  "I think I wanted him to be angry at me. I wanted an excuse to … to … come home," she finished on a shaky breath. "Could you use a partner again, Ariel? I'll buy into the business, of course, but I'm dying out here. I was wrong. Love is not enough."

  "Trudy … wow…" Trudy could bring in business, for certain. There would be less pressure on Ariel. Between the two of them they could afford an office, with or without AutoWerks. "That would be great," she said. "If you're sure, I mean."

  "I learned my lesson," she said sadly. "People are who they are and love can't change that."

  Ariel was about to agree—that was the lesson she'd learned from Jake—until she heard Trudy's shaky sigh. There was so much defeat and grief in the sound that Ariel knew this was wrong.

  "Trudy, listen. As much as I would love to have you here, I think you should give yourself more time. Talk to Paul. Look for some middle ground, where you enjoy each other, but you can still contribute professionally."

  Trudy was silent.

  "Are you there?"

  "I'm thinking," she said slowly.

  "You changed your life overnight. You have to expect some fallout. Talk to him. If you love each other you'll find a way."

  What was she saying? With Trudy's help, they could go back to Plan A and everything would be hunky-dory.

  But Plan A didn't seem right anymore. Not for Trudy and maybe not for her. Love was powerful. That was another thing falling in love with Jake had taught her. "Things work themselves out," she said. Now she was channeling Jake. She felt her shoulders lift into a Jake shrug.

  "When did you get so wise?" Trudy said.

  "It's a long story." She hated when Jake was right.

  Trudy promised to call again in a week to talk about coming back, but Ariel could hear the relief in her voice. She felt certain Trudy and Paul would work something out. She and Jake wouldn't be so lucky.

  She started packing. In the bathroom, she found the toothpaste tube squeezed in the middle and missing its cap and beach towels mildewing on the newly tiled floor. Oh, Jake.

  She leaned against the sink and began to cry. No more trashed-out bathrooms, bike gears on the kitchen table, sand and seawater on the wooden floors. And it just broke her heart. To torture herself further, she picked up his razor and sniffed that delicious coconut smell.

  She heard the door open and her heart slammed in her chest. Jake was back. Maybe he felt as miserable as she did. Maybe they could compromise somehow…

  But Jake was whistling. Whistling! He'd bounced back already. Of course he would. Falling in love was mo big deal to him. He came down the hall and stood in the doorway, looking so handsome, staring at her like always, interested and curious.

  She hid his razor behind her back. "You need to get in here?" she said. "It's okay. I'm finished."

  "Take your time."

  "I'm just packing for New York. I leave tonight."

  "I told you he'd give you another chance."

  "He's giving me twenty minutes," she said. "Less than half an hour to get his business back." She planned to create an addendum to the report that would impress him with her attention to detail. She'd do it on the plane and at the hotel before her appointment.

  "You're the most determined woman I know. You'll do it."

  "I wish I had your confidence."

  "You should." His eyes flared. "I've been trying to show you that. If you wouldn't get so uptight about everything, you'd do fine… But that's old news." He smiled—a ghost of his broad, full-faced grin. So he hadn't bounced back yet either. She felt better not being alone in her misery.

  "Your support has meant a lot, Jake." Her voice shook. She ached to move into his arms and let him soothe her.

  His face softened, his eyes went smoky. Maybe he wanted the same thing. He reached to touch her cheek. She closed her eyes. Maybe he would kiss her and it would all work out…

  "You've got something here," he said, showing the finger that had touched her cheek. "Shaving cream?"

  She opened her eyes. Hell, he'd caught her sniffing his razor. Embarrassment and disappointment rushed through her. "Here!" She slapped his razor, sharp side up, into his palm. "And try to find the cap to the toothpaste," she said, brushing by him.

  What was her problem? Jake wondered. He was just being nice, cleaning her off-okay, any excuse to touch her face—and she'd snarled at him. Over the toothpaste cap? And what was she doing with his razor, anyway?

  Women.

  He used the bathroom, then found Ariel in her room packing. He stood in the doorway watching her tight butt wiggle from closet to drawer to suitcase. He remembered how they'd teased each other when she'd unpacked a month ago, clutching those sexy white undies.

  He'd thought he'd helped her, but she wasn't a bit less jittery than when he'd met her. He wanted to keep trying—to pull her into his arms, calm her, make slow, sweet love to her until she fell into a relaxed sleep.

  But that was over. She'd be gone. She wouldn't be around to yell at him to lower his music or to moan in ecstasy over his muffins, or to fill his life with such joy…

  "You need a ride to the airport?" Anything for more time.

  She jerked up, surprised by his voice, and clutched her panties to her chest, just like that first day. "Super-shuttle."

  "Then I'll pick you up. When do you return?"

  She resumed packing. "Not sure. If it goes well, I'll stay and work a few days."

  "Why are you so mad?" he said. "I'm trying to help you."

  She blew out a breath. A world of reasons flew by on her face, but all she said was, "I'm not mad really. Just … sad."

  "We gave it a shot." He shrugged, the gesture making his whole body ache.

  "Exactly," she said and brushed viciously at her cheeks, where tears gleamed. God, he'd made her cry. What a jerk.

  "I'll finish the house and move all my stuff out while you're gone," he said. That would make it easy on her.

  "Whatever." He'd never heard her sound bitter before and he didn't like it.

  The place was so quiet after she left, he couldn't stand it. He decided to invite Penny out for the weekend. He'd tell her about the trip to Europe, since he'd just about earned the money. That should boost him out of this stubborn funk over Ariel. If that didn't work, he could just move to Florida.

  * * *

  On Friday night, Jake brought a virgin strawberry daiquiri to his sister, who sat on the sunporch, her feet up on the table, grinning out at the sunset.

  He handed her the drink and she gulped a big mouthful. "Not too fast or you'll get brain freeze," he said.

  "Gawd, Jake. You just can't stop telling me what to do."

  "You always whined about it when we went to Dairy Queen." He s
at beside her, sipping the triple-rum daiquiri he'd made to numb himself with.

  "When I was eight," she said, taking another big gulp. "So, what's the good news you have for me?" She lowered her feet and faced him. "And why do you look so sad about it?"

  "Sad? I'm not sad."

  "The hell you're not."

  "Don't swear." He held up his hand to block her objection. "I know you're almost seventeen and a woman and you can make choices about your language."

  "What happened, Jake? And don't say 'nothing.' You don't have cancer, do you?"

  "God, no. I had something … fall through … on me."

  "It's Ariel, isn't it? She dumped you?"

  "Dumped me? No … how did you…? Forget it." He shook his head. Penny thought she knew more than she had any right to know. "It was mutual. Now just let it go." He ended more forcefully than he'd meant.

  "Okay, okay," she said. "But you'd better let her win the fight. You're getting old. Killer looks don't last forever."

  "Drop it, please, or I'll start interviewing your dates."

  "I give," she said.

  Jake fumbled in his pocket for the much-folded "study abroad" brochure and thrust it at her. "Here."

  "What's this?" She unfolded it.

  "A present. From me to you. And don't worry about the cost. I set the money aside. I'm telling you now so you can plan on it before you start applying to colleges."

  "You're paying for this? But, Jake, this is too much … I don't know what to say…"

  "Say you're excited. And don't worry about the parents, Squirt. I'll make sure they know this will be good for you. There are chaperones and guided tours. It's completely safe."

  "It's not the parents," she said. She looked up at him, troubled. "I can't let you spend this money on me."

  "That's what money is for—to spend on people you love."

  "I appreciate that, but…"

  "But what? I know you want to go. You talked about it."

  "But my friends are all going to UC Santa Barbara."

  "Okay. So, you can go there when you get back."