All That I Want: A Queensbay Small Town Romance

by Drea Stein

  She had fussed with the window display she was working on and checked her watch a hundred times. She decided to think of it as a consultation, a work thing, not a date. There was no reason for the butterflies in her stomach. She saw his truck, white with the logo of his company on it, as it pulled neatly into a spot in front of the shop. She watched as he swung out of it and came to the door, opening it. She pretended to be busy with something.

  “Sorry I’m running a little late. One of the guys was just about to hit a water main at a site, and I had to rearrange a few things.”

  She looked up. He looked a little harried, especially for Jake.

  “If this isn’t a good time, we can reschedule,” she said.

  “You’re wearing jeans. That might not happen again anytime soon. We better take advantage of it, don’t you think?”

  She smiled and nodded.

  He headed out of the shop, waiting while she locked the door.

  “I heard you got some security cameras put in and an alarm system.”

  “Funny, the owner told me he’d been instructed to give me his best pricing, as a special favor.”

  Jake shrugged. “I steer a lot of business his way.”

  She wanted to know how he’d known she was even going to call the security company, but decided it didn’t really matter. Someone had talked.

  “Seemed like the smart thing to do.”

  “Good,” he said and nodded. “Small town and all, but still, you never know.”

  He placed his hand on her back and guided her out onto the sidewalk. “How about a cup of coffee to go? My treat?”

  “Sure.”

  He took her hand, a gesture that caught her by surprise.

  “What?”

  “You don’t have to hold my hand,” she said, but she made no move to pull away. There was something strong and reassuring about holding it.

  “It’s just a hand,” he said. “And it feels right.”

  She didn’t disagree, and she didn’t pull away as he opened the door for her.

  The Golden Pear Café was warm and filled with scents of fresh roasted coffee, butter, and cinnamon. She had to stop herself from inhaling deeply. People were spread around the tables, reading the paper, chattering with one another, all against the background of soothing acoustic guitar. Jake strolled up at the counter, their hands still linked. To Colleen it felt as if everyone was looking at them, that there were more than a few stares and whispers. Just the normal small town interest, she reminded herself, and everyone knew Jake. It was something she’d have to get used to, she realized, if she and Jake continued.

  “Do you want coffee?” Jake’s voice was perfectly calm as if he weren’t aware of the attention they were garnering.

  She nodded, and he ordered for them. She looked over at the glass display case, admiring the cookies and croissants, the éclairs and the cakes. Darby emerged from the kitchen and Colleen caught her small double-take as she took in the sight of Jake and Colleen. But Darby recovered and took over their order from the other server, making small talk as she did.

  “Maybe I’ll swing by later,” she said. “I had a few ideas about the sidewalk sale.”

  “That would be great,” Colleen said, and meant it, glad that she and Darby had reached détente.

  Jake’s arm was draped around her shoulder, and Colleen wanted to both shrug it off and snuggle into it deeper. She wasn’t sure how she felt about being part of this show, and she wasn’t quite sure what Jake was trying to do. The coffees were on the counter. Colleen felt the presence of the other woman before she heard her speak.

  “Well, well, Jake, look who you dragged in.”

  Colleen shifted, saw a woman standing there. She was tall, with brunette hair kissed by sunlight. She wore skinny white jeans, high heels, and a halter top. Expensive perfume competed with the smell of baked goods.

  The whole café, including Darby, seemed to have gone silent as the woman stared at Jake.

  “Hi Serena,” Jake said, his voice neutral. He managed to remove his wallet without letting go of Colleen, even though she wanted to wiggle free.

  Colleen wasn’t sure what else Serena was going to say because Darby jumped in.

  “Would you like some croissants with that? Maybe some cookies? Colleen, you’ll have to tell me what you think. I modeled my recipe after the ones I tasted in Paris, but it would be great to get a second opinion.”

  Colleen snapped her attention forward. Darby had tongs in her hand and had removed the glass cover from a plate piled high with them.

  “We’ll take six of each,” Jake said. “Office always loves when I bring back your cookies, Darby.”

  “Wonderful,” Darby answered.

  Jake took the coffees, and Colleen took the bag with the baked goods. There might have been some more small talk exchanged, but it didn’t register with Colleen. She felt Serena’s lingering gaze on them and was aware that others were looking at them. Just as casually, as if nothing was out of the ordinary, Jake led her out of there and into the bright summer morning.

  She stopped.

  He didn’t, but said, “Everyone’s still watching. I’ll talk about it, but I think we’d both prefer to do so in private.”

  She nodded, and they both kept going and into the truck. It had grown hot in the sun, and she waited while he fiddled with the A/C and pulled away from the curb.

  “What was that about?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked innocently, taking a sip of his coffee and setting it down in the cup holder.

  Colleen was thankful that Darby had come to her defense. “Don’t play dumb with me.”

  Jake looked at her. “Just an ex-girlfriend.”

  “You don’t seem like you parted on good terms,” Colleen said, keeping her voice even. Amy, Serena … who else had Jake dated? Then she told herself that it didn’t matter. She had a past. He had a past. She had a kid, which was more than a past.

  “Maybe we didn’t.”

  He looked at her. “She wanted to get married, and I didn’t. For the record, I never said I would. I thought I was clear on that. She thought she could change my mind. She didn’t take it well.”

  “Anyone else I should know about?”

  He shot her a look and asked, “Why, are you jealous?”

  She forced herself to smile easily. She could tell that Serena had been one of those girls who rode horses in the fall and sailed in summer, took trips out west to go skiing, and island-hopped when she needed a break. Colleen didn’t even know her, and she hated her because Serena had everything Colleen had wanted but never had.

  “Of course not,” she said, trying to sound like she meant it. She took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to be jealous of the past. Colleen had gone out and made her own life. She had learned to ride a horse, skied in the Alps, and sailed the Mediterranean on private yachts. It didn’t matter what Jake and Serena’s relationship had been because Jake was with her now.

  “Sounds to me like you might care just a little.”

  “We both have pasts, Jake, right? So my past is my past and yours is yours. Deal?”

  “Fine by me.”

  He started humming something, and she thought she recognized it as a country song about a jealous woman. She hit him on the arm. It was solid muscle, and he barely flinched. He stopped humming, and she reached for the radio, finding a station playing a song by Train. She cranked it up, rolled down the window, and let herself enjoy a ride in a truck with a good-looking guy.

  It only took a few minutes before they were in front of the Showhouse. The white building always seemed poised to drop over the bluff it stood on and into the waters of Queensbay Harbor. They both sat in the truck for a second, taking it in. Despite the building’s state of decrepitude, the view was amazing, and she said as much.

  “I think there is much more to it,” he answered, opening up the truck door. She watched him get out, deciding that there was nothing to do but follow.

  No Trespassing si
gns were displayed prominently, and a chain hung haphazardly across the parking lot whose tarmac was filled with cracks. Healthy, vibrant weeds grew out of the cracks. Despite the fact that no one was supposed to be here, Colleen could see the evidence that plenty of people had been. Empty beer cans and cigarette butts were scattered around. She figured that the kids of Queensbay must still be using the Showhouse as a make-out spot.

  Up close, she could see that the building was in terrible condition. Shutters hung willy-nilly and the fascia board was clearly rotting. As if to prove a point, she saw a pigeon fly out of a broken window.

  “Looks like a real winner.”

  “Let me show you inside.”

  “In there? I bet there are birds in there. Spiders. And mice.”

  “All of the above,” he said. “But I’ll hold your hand.” And as if to prove it, he did just that.

  She followed him up the steps and onto the veranda, avoiding a rotten floorboard that gave under his booted foot. He lifted a bar off the door, put his shoulder into it, and heaved. The hinges squealed, then gave, and they burst into the cool, dark interior.

  “Wow,” she said as she turned around in it.

  Light came through the high windows, filtering down softly, catching dust in the air and burnishing the faded red velvet curtains into soft jewel tones. She heard the cooing of the pigeons, but luckily the only evidence of mice was the slightly tattered edges of the curtains. The woodwork, elaborately scrolled and painted, was all still intact.

  “Amazing, isn’t it?” he said, and she could hear the reverence in his voice.

  “An amazing pile of junk,” she said and started to walk toward the concession stand.

  “Be careful, the floorboards are a little weak there.”

  She stepped, feeling the give beneath her feet, but they held.

  “Come this way,” he said and pulled her toward a double door and flung it open. The auditorium was in front of them, with curved stage. But here, the sloped floor was bare.

  “What happened?”

  “Someone came in and took out all of the seats. Not sure when it happened. But this part was stripped. Scrap metal was pretty valuable a while back.”

  “Just a shell,” she said, and he smiled.

  “Just means it will be easier to remake it.”

  She caught his enthusiasm and smiled, decided to play into it.

  “Okay, so what do you have planned?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  She loved the way his eyes lit up when talking about the project. The sketches he shared with her showed a sweeping vision for what the Showhouse could be. Apartments were a good idea, and she could imagine the panoramic views they would command, see their luxury, even if his sketches were only in black and white. And, if he could build a dock with some slips, she was pretty sure he’d have a home run.

  They were still tossing ideas around when she glanced at her watch.

  “I need to go,” she said suddenly. She had to pick up Adele.

  “What?”

  “Pick up time, for Adele.”

  “Oh, of course,” he said. “Here, I’ll drive you there. Do you want me to drive you home too?”

  “I’ll take the ride there. Adele and I usually walk home, stop by the park together.”

  He nodded, as if her brush off didn’t bother him. “Of course. I should probably get back to work anyway.”

  She nodded, knowing that he understood, that he was following the rules. She didn’t know what to make of it exactly, only that she’d found her morning with him, in a vermin-infested building that ought to be condemned, to be almost perfect. They’d touched, held hands, pored over drawings together, but he hadn’t tried to kiss her and part of her was burning up with the desire to feel his lips on hers again. To have him pull her to him, to run her hands through his hair, to feel the strength of his arms, his shoulders.

  He said nothing as he let her out just a bit before the school to pick up Adele.

  “Thanks,” she said as she slid out of the truck.

  “Maybe I’ll swing by Quent’s some evening, see if you’re working.”

  She nodded. “That would be nice.” She didn’t ask how he’d know if she’d be working, knew he’d find her if he wanted.

  “Well, then, I’ll be seeing you,” he said casually. She swallowed, smiled and shut the door. He drove away with a wave of his hand and she stood there, letting her heart beat to return to normal. She was a goner, and part of her knew it.

  Chapter 31

  Rain. Not the soft spring kind that reminded you summer was on its way, or the kind that feathered you with soft touches and made you think of men dancing in trench coats on picture-pretty streets. Nope, this was a soaker, she thought, as she stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of Quent’s. The village was settling in, lights flickering off as everyone closed up shop. She paused, assessed.

  Quent had offered a ride home, but he was still closing up, and she didn’t want to wait. It was just a little rain, and she wanted to go home and throw herself in a hot tub for a nice long soak. That, she thought, sounded perfect, and it was the thought that would keep her going on the walk home. An engine sprang to life behind her and she was aware of the sweep of headlights. She was on the sidewalk when the truck pulled up beside her and the window rolled down.

  “Get in,” Jake said.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

  “Because it’s raining, and I’m offering you a ride.”

  “How do you know I need one?”

  “Because anyone who had a car would be in one.”

  “Maybe I like the exercise,” she answered. There was a long low rumble of thunder somewhere behind her, over the harbor. He hadn’t come to see her at work or stopped by the shop and she had found that annoyed her enough so now that he was in front of her, she was spoiling for an argument.

  “At midnight in a rain storm?” he said. His voice was reasonable, and his face was shadowed and dimly lit by the dashboard lights.

  “Fine,” she said, because there was a cold trickle of water seeping down her neck. She didn’t want to walk home, and her feet hurt, and she trusted Jake. Yanking the door open, she stepped up into the high cab. The light from the door flashed on, and she looked at Jake, knowing she looked and felt wet and bedraggled like a cat caught unawares.

  “Seat warmer button is right there,” he said and waved his hand in the general direction.

  She turned it on. Who cared if it was May, and she was a hardy New Englander? The warm seat felt good. The car felt good, and she was suddenly aware that Jake was there and he smelled good too, like soap and maybe fresh lumber and just a hint of aftershave, nothing too powerful. She hadn’t seen him in a few days, not since he’d dropped her off after visiting the Showhouse. She had half expected to see him at the pub, but he hadn’t been in.

  She closed her eyes and let the warmth and comfort seep into her. The truck started rolling, and Jake slowly began the drive through town. The radio was on, not too loud, the local rock station, and some tortured adolescent was singing about love and desire, and Colleen wondered how at sixteen the girl could know anything. The truck had stopped in front of the tipsy little Victorian. In the light of the sulfur lamp she could see that the flaws of the street were hidden. The houses didn’t look quite so shabby in the dusky light and the soft screen of rain.

  “I thought I’d see you before this,” she said.

  “I wanted to. I’ve been fighting not coming into the shop or into the pub.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve wanted to do this.”

  “Do what?”

  Jake had unbuckled and had slipped over to her until he was just inches from her.

  “Kiss you,” Jake said, and he did.

  It was tender at first, his lips coming down over hers, then his arms pulled her close, deftly undoing the seat belt she was connected to, so they were intertwined, and she was kissing him back. All thought had left her h
ead, and she was able for a moment to forget that she was necking in the front seat of a truck with the high school quarterback in front of her mother’s house.

  Time tumbled and slipped, and she let her hands roam over him, touching his face, then feeling the muscles in his shoulders, his arms. There was only solidness here, strength and more strength. He stopped for a moment, looked at her, checking.

  “Don’t stop, just keep kissing me,” she breathed.

  She could feel herself tremble as he moved and then pulled her onto him. She was kneeling astride him and his hand was fisted in her hair, pulling her lips down to his, and then he was running his hands up and down her arms, then around her waist, sneaking up to get a touch of skin. His hands were hot against her, and she leaned down into him, savoring the feel of his body, of his legs, of his wanting her.

  His hands were pushing up the edge of her shirt and she could feel, through the fabric of her simple white bra, the scrape of his callused thumbs over her breasts. Still her body responded to his touch, his caresses driving her desire for him, to be with him, just a little bit deeper.

  For a moment she knew that this was crazy, that they were in a parked car, on a street lined with houses, where anyone could see them, but she didn’t care, just knew that her need for him was pushing her over the edge. She wanted him, all of him.

  Her shirt was off, and her hands were tugging his polo up and over his head, revealing his chest. She took a moment just to look. She had to admit his chest was more spectacular than she remembered, slightly tan, and perfectly flat, hard, and muscled. She caught her breath. Jake had always had a great body, and it was definitely part of his appeal.

  Her body responded as his hand cupped her breast and caressed her nipple. She hissed at his touch and wanted more. She reached around and unsnapped her bra, freeing herself. She saw him swallow, mutter something, then he was kissing her breasts, his head buried and she arched her head back, letting her body savor the pleasure.