by JoAnn Ross
Mac laughed. “Good for you.”
“Being in a war taught me how short life can be. Which is why it’s important to seize the carp.”
Mac put aside the fact that he’d definitely failed on the carpe diem advice with Annie and instead decided, since his grandfather had brought up the subject of life and death, to tell him about Ollie.
He sat down on the bench beside Charlie and stretched out his legs. “I was talking with Sax Douchett yesterday,” he said.
“Always liked that young fellow. I knew he wasn’t near as bad as he liked people to think. He was just sowing his oats. Like a lot of us do while waiting for the right woman.”
Which Kara definitely was for Sax.
Mac was beginning to feel a bit like that song he’d played the other night. About wishing on someone else’s star because it sure as hell seemed like everyone else in town was all lovey-dovey, while he was just frustrated.
“He brought up the parade.”
“Always liked the Fourth of July parade.” Charlie frowned. “Guess this’ll be the first year since 1945 I’ve missed being part of it.”
“He was thinking you might like to take part again this time. On the float,” he said quickly, in case his grandfather might get confused and think he’d be expected to walk.
“I sat on the bench with Ollie Nelson last year. We’re the last two of our generation.”
“That’s another thing I need to tell you,” Mac said gently. “Ollie passed on.”
“He did? When?”
“Night before last.”
“Oh.” At first Mac was surprised when his grandfather seemed relieved. Then clarification came. “I was afraid he’d died some other time and I’d forgotten.” He shook his head. “I might forget what I ate for breakfast, but if we’d lost Ollie and I’d forgotten, well, hell, that’d just be wrong.”
Knowing the bond that war forges, Mac understood his pops’ reasoning perfectly.
“Is he going to have a funeral?”
“Tomorrow.”
“I need to go.”
Mac wasn’t about to ask if his grandfather felt up to it. Being battle buddies created an especially deep bond. “It’s at one. I can pick you up at noon to give us plenty of time to get there and settle in.”
“Make it eleven thirty,” Charlie said with surprising clarity and decisiveness. “I’ll need time to change into my uniform, which I’ll need you to get from the house.”
“Will do,” Mac said.
Last year, in the parade when Sax rode in that convertible, looking as uncomfortable as hell in his spiffy Navy whites, Mac’s grandfather had been proud to still fit into his uniform. He suspected that this year it would hang on him, but he also knew that Charlie would consider it a necessary sign of respect.
“You think any more about that nurse?” he asked. “Annie?”
“She’s not a nurse, Pops. She’s a volunteer.”
“Makes no difference. She’s pretty enough. And sweet as taffy. You could do a lot worse. You should ask her out to dinner. Wine and dine her. That always works.”
Mac laughed, deciding there was no way he was going to share the fact that they’d already had lunch. No point in encouraging the old man about something that wasn’t going to happen.
Though, he thought, as he waved good-bye to Analise, then drove away from Still Waters, it was strange how, along with always being able to remember his conversations with Emma, Charlie seemed locked onto the idea of fixing him up with Annie Shepherd.
Just proving that Alzheimer’s might be a roller coaster, but it wasn’t one where all the cars were connected and everyone was on the same ride. Although the end was certain, the one thing he’d learned over the past eight months was that everyone’s experience was as unique as the people suffering from it.
As Mac passed the tidy shops with their colorful wind socks blowing in the sea breeze, he saw Annie out in front of Memories on Main, rolling down her yellow and white awning.
He was tempted to stop, but the fact that she hadn’t called the show last night suggested that she really was putting a stop to any relationship they might have going. Besides, since this was his father’s day for working at the clinic, Mac needed to get home, having promised to take Emma to the park, then have a hot dog roast on the beach.
So he merely slowed down, and honked once. She turned around, saw his truck, and waved. Today’s dress was a stoplight red. When a sea breeze caught and flared the flirty skirt high on her thighs, he was tempted to pull over.
Although he hadn’t been in Spec Ops, or anything secretive like that, the military had taught Mac to keep information close to his chest.
Working for AFN had also required that he keep his emotions to himself, because when he was reporting that day’s casualties, or listening to some of the personal stuff people who called in to request songs would tell him, he could’ve spent a lot of his deployments too depressed to get up in the morning.
So, while he might seem all outgoing as Radio Guy, concealing his feelings had become second nature. Until that first night with Sandy from Shelter Bay, and again at lunch, when he’d found himself opening up in a way he hadn’t with anyone. Not even his father. Or Sax, whom he’d always been closest with, back in the day.
She was probably right about not getting involved. But just watching her lips curve in that smile had him remembering her taste.
Despite the nightmares, and the ghosts, he’d told himself that compared to most guys, he was doing okay. He’d learned to deal with stuff, and things he didn’t want to deal with got put in that lockbox in his mind.
Not much got to easy, breezy Midnight Mac.
But, as fucked up as this situation could turn out to be, Annie Shepherd had sure as hell gotten to him.
33
She wasn’t going to call. Annie told herself that all day, trying to ignore the burst of pleasure she’d felt when he’d driven by. It had taken all her restraint not to give him an invitation to stop. But then what?
Fortunately the pods of whales, along with the local dolphins, had begun putting on quite a show, filling the whale-watching boats with tourists, who would rush into her store in search of paper, brads, and various other whale embellishments to create the memory pages they intended to make once they got back home.
During the off season, her sales tended to be local, along with an online base that was growing more every day. Enough so she was thinking she might have to hire someone part-time just to handle the mailing.
After closing the shop, she went home, took advantage of the low tide to walk a mile along the beach from her cove, then back home again. She fed Pirate, who was noisily demanding his dinner, nuked a frozen diet meal for herself, which tasted just barely better than the cardboard box it came in, and settled down with a romance novel that was just hot enough to keep reminding her of the kisses she’d shared with Mac Culhane.
So much for escapist fiction.
Giving up, she switched to a history of the cove where her house was located—it was a fascinating enough story, but had been written by a professor emeritus who’d retired to Newport, and seemed to have missed his calling. Because his technical, detail-heavy, dry prose style was definitely more suited to writing legal briefs, legislation, or computer manuals.
Finally giving up, and wondering how it was that a book that was so impossibly boring couldn’t have at least made her sleepy, Annie poured a glass of wine and took it upstairs to bed, where she slipped between the sheets and turned on the radio.
“When I was growing up, spending my summers here in Shelter Bay,” Mac was saying, “everyone knew the rules of dating. Among them bein’ that it was always the guy’s responsibility to make the first move at the end of a date.
“But with all the gains women have made in equality, is it still that way? Guys, do you still sometimes get conflicted about whether she wants you to kiss her at the end of a date? When you realize you’re caught in a movie moment, but you’re having
a hard time decoding the scenario?
“And, hey, you women out there, are you still waiting on a guy to make the move? Or do you believe in taking the matter into your own hands. Or, in this case, lips?
“Give me a call at 555-9806 and let me know your thoughts. Meanwhile, we’ve got an ode to those guys who are responsible for making that move with Gloriana’s “Good Night,” or as most people call it, “Kissed You Good Night.”
Annie’s phone immediately rang.
“He’s doing it again,” Sedona said. “Sending you a message. Talking about kissing you.”
“Maybe,” Annie allowed, even though she knew her friend was right. “Though it could be a coincidence. Most country songs are about kissing, drinking, falling in love, or breaking up.”
“He wants you to call.”
“I know.”
Annie hitched up higher in the bed and took another, longer sip of wine. Pirate, sensing her anxiety and not happy that she shifted enough to slide him off her legs, shot her an annoyed glare and moved down to the bottom of the bed. In revenge, he began clawing the pretty woven wool throw she’d bought for a ridiculously low price at one of the artisan boutiques in the Cannery.
“Well?” Sedona said.
“I’m thinking about it.”
“He’s practically inviting you to make the next move,” Sedona said, pressing her case. “He’s already done his part. Now it’s your turn.”
“He drove by the store this morning. While I was out putting down the awning.”
“And?”
“Didn’t you hear me? He drove by. If he was all that interested, why didn’t he stop?”
“Because you told him you didn’t want him to? You’re the one who said it wasn’t going to work.”
“And he agreed.”
“That’s what guys always say to protect their egos when they’ve been turned down. Would you have wanted him to get down on his knees, right there on Main Street, and beg?”
“Of course not.”
Oh, God. Maybe she was one of those women who expected the man to make not just the first move, but all the moves. And how depressing, in this day and age, was that?
“It’s complicated,” she said yet again, reminding herself that she’d dared him to kiss her in Memories on Main, of all places.
“Life’s complicated. Love even more so.”
“Who’s talking about love?” What she and Mac Culhane had was merely chemistry. Wasn’t it?
“Don’t get bogged down in details. Or ahead of yourself. He’s putting himself out there, Annie. The question is, are you going to snatch him up? Or wait until someone else does?”
“I can’t very well call the station if I’m on the phone with you,” she said.
“Go for it,” Sedona replied. Then cut the connection.
Wishing she’d brought the bottle upstairs, Annie polished off the rest of her wine, took a deep breath, and dialed.
34
The phone buttons had lit up. Mac figured Cowboy and the others could wait because there was one caller he was not going to risk keeping on hold.
“I was hoping you were listening,” he said.
“I like country music,” she said.
“See, we have something in common.”
“Well, that and kissing,” she admitted. He thought he heard a smile in her voice.
“That’s a damn good start.”
“I suppose so.” She paused. Then said, “How long do we have?”
“The song runs four minutes, forty-seven seconds.”
“That’s a long one.”
“Hey, I try.”
“I’m glad you honked when you drove by today,” she said.
“Can’t not compliment a pretty woman in a red dress,” he said.
“I thought maybe you’d stop.” Another pause. Then a sigh. “And this is sounding so like high school.”
He laughed because damned if he hadn’t been thinking the same thing. “I wanted to. Especially when you flashed me.”
“The wind caught my skirt,” she countered, but he could practically see that cute color rising in her porcelain pale skin. “And it didn’t go that high.”
“High enough it had me wanting to bite your thigh.”
“Don’t.” She almost moaned it.
Ha! He was getting to her.
“Just being honest. So, yeah, I wanted to stop, but I wasn’t sure you wanted me to. I was also pretty sure you didn’t want me kissing you on Main Street where everyone driving by could see.”
“No. Of course I wouldn’t.” She didn’t sound as if she entirely meant that. Which was a good thing. Wasn’t it?
“I was coming back from seeing Pops,” he said.
“So early in the morning?” She knew what time he got off work, which meant she also knew that he wouldn’t have gotten much sleep. What she didn’t need to know was that thanks to her bedeviling both his mind and his body, he hadn’t gotten any. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Not with him, anyway. A close friend he was in the war with died. I wanted to break the news before he heard it from anyone else. He wants me to take him to the memorial service tomorrow, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed that he’ll be having a good day when I show up in the morning.”
“I’ll keep mine crossed as well, for both of you,” she said. “I assume you’re talking about Ollie Nelson?”
Okay, that was a surprise. “How did you guess that?”
“Your grandfather talks about Ollie. A lot. Especially when we’re working on his war scrapbook.”
“What war scrapbook?”
“He hasn’t shown it to you?” She sounded as surprised as he’d been to hear about it.
“No. I didn’t even know it existed.” How coincidental was it that he’d just been thinking he needed to get Pops’ stories down? Apparently Charlie had already been working on that. With Annie Shepherd.
Which meant she knew really personal stuff about his grandfather that none of his family did. And how weird was that?
“The only ones I’ve ever seen are the family one and the new one you just started about his activities at Still Waters, like the aquarium field trip. Today, when I got there, he was sitting in the garden looking at the photo of my grandmother on their honeymoon.”
“Ah, the one at Rainbow Lake. I love that one,” Annie said. The smile in her voice had him picturing the one that would be shining in her eyes. “She reminds me of a 1940s cover girl. Like Rita Hayworth.”
“Nailed it,” Mac agreed as the damn clock he was beginning to hate ticked down. “I guess he told you about rowing across the lake.”
“And stopping in the middle? Yes, he wasn’t specific regarding the details, but I got the idea.”
“We talked about you, too.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. He told me to seize the carp. Not that you’re a carp, but—”
“I get the point. Especially since he told me the same thing. About you.”
“So.” He blew out a breath. “Here we are.”
“It appears so.”
“And, if that song is to be believed, it’s up to me to make the next move.”
“I called you,” she reminded him. “Again.”
“Good point. So, laying my ego out there on the line, here’s where I tell you that you’ve gotten under my skin, Annie Shepherd. I think about you. A lot.” Like most of the time. “Maybe too much.”
“I think about you, too.”
“But?”
“We agreed to be grown-ups.”
“True. But I damn well don’t remember agreeing to be a monk. And last time I heard, you hadn’t joined a convent.”
“No.” Her soft laugh of approaching surrender hit him in the gut. And lower. Yes, he was definitely getting to her. The same way she’d already gotten to him.
“We already agreed to be friends,” he reminded her. “So what’s wrong with seeing each other socially?”
“Socially? Like a date?”
There was another pause. Longer than the first. The clock was down to thirty seconds.
Just when Mac thought he was going to have to cut her off, and hey, wouldn’t that win him a lot of points, she said, “After you take Charlie back to Still Waters tomorrow, give me a call. If you have time, I’ll take the afternoon off and fix you a late lunch at my place.”
Was she actually talking about a nooner?
Ten seconds.
Or, in this case, maybe a lunch was just a lunch.
Five seconds, and no time to investigate further.
“It’s a deal,” he said, just an instant before time ran out.
“You’re tuned in to KBAY ninety-eight-point-six Mac at Midnight and we had ourselves some technical difficulties that screwed up the phone lines,” he lied deftly as he went back on the air. “But I think we’ve got that situation fixed, so lines are now open.
“Question for the night being, Who’s supposed to make the first move? The guy? Or the woman?
“While you’re dialing, here’s Sugarland, with “What I’d Give,” a tune about a friend wanting to be more. Switch genders and it works just as well because I’ll bet a lot of guys have found themselves in that situation, too. So let’s throw that into the conversational mix.”
Mac hit Play, rocked back in his chair, and as he watched the lines start to flash, he hoped Annie would get the message that while he was willing to settle for friendship, his ultimate plan was for a whole lot more.
35
The minute the hot, plaintive Sugarland song ended, the phone rang. Although Annie hadn’t really expected Mac to call her with all the other people undoubtedly wanting to talk to him, she experienced a little stab of disappointment when she saw Sedona’s name on the caller ID.
“So?” Sedona asked. “What did you guys talk about that had him move things to the next level?”
“We’re negotiating levels,” Annie insisted.
