by Julie Miller
Oh, no. This man wanted to meet Travis in person. That couldn’t be good. Man-to-man, face-to-face—that’s how these military types delivered bad news. Her father had been like that: call a man ASAP with good news, but wait until you could look him in the eye to deliver bad news.
“Well, if you give me your name, when I see him, I’ll tell him you stopped by.”
Officer Studmuffin bit off the end of his hotdog and chewed slowly, savoring his meal as much as Nixa had. Those ice-blue eyes held her gaze, giving Tess plenty of time to wonder and worry what this might be about. Her toes were dancing inside her tennis shoes by the time he swallowed. “You said when, not if,” he pointed out. “So you expect him later?”
“I hope—”
“Tess!”
The blue ice blinked and looked away as PFC Thibideux and Corporal Jaynes waved to her from across the street. They hurried over, smiling and chatting.
“Remember us?”
“How could I forget?” She grinned at their boyish efforts to spruce themselves up before they reached the stand. Crew cuts and clean-shaven faces required very little maintenance. “Need a snack before the dance starts?”
“We thought we’d come and flirt with you first.”
“Yeah, get our engines warmed up.”
She laughed at their shameless efforts to charm. But the black-haired hunk seemed less impressed. Had he intentionally slid back in front of the service window just as Thibideux reached the counter? It wasn’t very comforting to think that this man’s purpose in Ashton was serious enough that he would brush another man aside to be first in line. “Tess. I always liked that name. It’s as pretty as you are. Tell Travis I was looking for him.”
“I will.”
Travis’s old friend wasn’t all doom and gloom. One ice-blue eye closed in a suggestive wink. “You were right about the sweet and spicy. Very nice.”
“Thanks.”
As storm clouds crept across the moon and darkened the town in a breezy night, a dozen more customers wandered into line behind Jaynes and Thibideux. Suddenly Tess was busy—and the handsome flirt was gone before she realized he’d never given her his name.
“YEAH, DAD. Longbow Island. You’ll be there a second night. Got it.” Travis jotted the information onto the notepad beside the ham radio equipment in his father’s study.
“The wind’s…”
“What’s that, Dad?”
The hum of static that made Hal McCormick sound as if he were speaking from inside the bilge box on his boat popped like an electronic thunderclap. Probably another lightning strike in the atmosphere. Several seconds of silence followed.
“Dad?” An antsy feeling tickled the back of Travis’s neck and crept down his spine. “McCormick base to Helena Two. Repeat. McCormick base to Helena Two. Dad? You there?”
A crackle of static answered.
“Dad?”
Travis shoved his chair back from the radio console. The wires didn’t give him much leeway, but he needed room to pace. Answer me, Dad. He tapped at the earphone and muttered out loud. “Answer.”
He’d been in the field often enough with dangerous weather, damaged equipment or no equipment at all and managed to survive. He’d been through years of training to avoid panic at the first sign of distress, to take stock of a situation, evaluate options, and then take action only if need be.
If the weather turned bad, he could deal.
If the radio malfunctioned, he could fix it.
If he had to ensure his own survival and the safety of a fellow Marine and two civilians, he’d improvise.
But Travis’s years of experience hadn’t prepared him for standing by while his sixty-year-old father, who took a pill every morning to keep his heart from going haywire, coped with the very same challenges.
When Hal had missed their agreed-upon check-in time, Travis had worried a little. His dad was probably at the stern, hauling in a marlin or a shark who wouldn’t surrender. He’d still be home by sunset.
But when two hours had passed and he couldn’t raise his father on the radio or the cell phone, then four hours, Travis had stopped pacing on his sore knee and called the harbor master. Squall lines over the Atlantic had hit earlier than predicted. The Helena II was one of several boats that had checked in with a change in arrival time. Hal planned to wait out the storm and sail in tomorrow. Everyone was fine. The boat was fine. No need to worry.
Hell. The whole idea of sending his dad on this excursion was to ease up on his stress. But if Hal was battling the elements, battling equipment—and likely battling Eileen Ward’s fear of the water, which would only be intensified by the storm and rough seas—then his blood pressure must be going through the roof. What had Tess told him when he’d been so anxious to ease his father’s concerns about him? Families worry. That’s what they do.
He supposed this was a good taste of what his father had been going through over a son who’d been blown to bits and knitted back together. Damn. “C’mon, Dad. Answer!”
Man, he wished Tess was here. She’d always been a calming, sensible influence on him. She’d been there for breakups and losses. She’d been with him through letters and prayers and e-mails in the middle of perilous war zones and tedious base assignments. She knew when to listen, when to hug, when to scold.
He could use a friend like that right about now.
But she was working. And he’d been a jealous butthead—or at least something had shut her down after that amazing make out session last night. He needed to apologize before calling in another favor. Hell, they needed to talk so he could find out what was wrong and make it right.
In the meantime, Travis tried to recall the comfortable memory of talking to Tess underneath the pier afer his welcome-home reception. But all he could come up with was the heated memory of Tess’s ass snugged against his crotch during a makeshift game of stickball, or the image of her screaming in ecstasy around the melting sweetness of a chocolate bar.
“Damn it.” Travis punched his fist against his palm. It was getting to the point that he wanted to be with Tess—he wanted to be in Tess—just as much as he wanted to be reinstated to Special Ops. The line between friend and lover was blurring. At the end of two weeks, he knew he’d lose Tess in one role. But if he wasn’t careful, he’d lose her twice.
And then there’d be no hugs, no scolding, no gentle smiles to get him through tense nights like this one.
Travis picked up the microphone and raised his voice as though volume alone could clear the airwaves. “Dad, come in.”
A high-pitched sound screeched across his eardrums. “Ow! Damn.” He ripped the headphones off and held the tortuous sound at arm’s length until he could adjust the decibel level. His father was scrolling through the radio dial, finding a working frequency. He held the headphones to one ear and sat back down as static returned to the line. But there was still no voice. “C’mon, Dad. Make it work.”
“…Two to McCormick base. Travis?…there?”
Hallelujah! “I’ve got you now, Dad. But you’re breaking up.”
“…fine, son…. Coast Guard apprised…ride it out with Eileen and…see you tomorrow.”
His elation at hearing his father’s voice was tempered by all the ways he could interpret that garbled message. “Dad? Verify situation okay.”
“Verified.” His father was shouting now, too. But his voice was strong. When it came through. “…call…storm over. See…tomorrow. Helena…out.”
Travis pulled the headset from his ear and breathed a sigh of measured relief. “McCormick base out.”
He shut down the power and tried to believe that his father did have everything under control. The man was an old sea salt, who could probably navigate the waters of Chesapeake Bay and the near Atlantic coast and islands with his eyes closed. He and Craddock were veteran Marines with survival training from back in the day. And he couldn’t discount the feisty powerhouse Millie Craddock, either. The forced proximity might even give his dad and Eil
een the opportunity to find some common ground so they could get along. They would be just fine.
It wasn’t until he left the static and panic of the study and entered the quiet of the rest of the empty house that Travis realized the rain had started here, too. He went to the sliding glass doors and looked out over the deck and beach to the bay beyond. The gray water looked black tonight, with no moon or stars to reflect off the surface. Flashes of cloud-to-cloud lightning sparked overhead, giving brief glimpses of the wind and rain churning the bay into deep, choppy waves. Rain slapped the door. Travis spread his hand against the smooth glass and felt how the front blowing ahead of the storm had cooled the air outside.
Nope. His dad didn’t want to be out in this. Not on the water where the effects of the storm would be more intensified. Probably not even in a tent on the rocky beach of Longbow Island. But Hal and his crew would be safer if they stayed put there.
Some hero. Sitting on the sidelines while a group of older folks faced real danger.
Travis didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be alone tonight to worry about stuff he couldn’t take care of himself.
He still owed Tess that apology. They still needed that talk.
Time to take action.
Grabbing his jacket and keys, and leaving the knee-brace behind, he dashed out to the driveway and climbed into his dad’s truck. Inside, he smoothed the water from his scalp, checked the time, and threw the truck into gear. He could use a soda and some popcorn right about now.
His mission tonight was to reconnect with Tess.
Whether as friend or lover, the choice would be hers.
10
WHAT IF SHE hauled off and did something completely irresponsible? Like close the awning of the concession stand and walk away? Heck. Why bother closing the awning? Tess hadn’t had a single customer the past hour. The evening drizzle had evolved into a steady rain, and the wind and lightning overhead meant the storm was going to get worse before it blew on through Ashton.
The band at the courthouse had packed up. The street dancers had moved into the local bars and restaurants or gone home. The carnival rides were shut down and the tourists clamoring for hotdogs and popcorn were nonexistent.
She should have brought a book to read. Or a radio so she could listen to the Washington Nationals baseball game.
Tess was going nuts, hanging around the concession booth with nothing to do but remember that that was the spot where Travis had pinned her against the door. That was the brand of candy she’d gnawed through when he’d gone down on her. That was the stack of cups they’d knocked over in their hasty efforts to get dressed again after the fact.
Tess propped her elbows on the counter, rested her chin in her palms and leaned forward to let the wet air mist through the screen and cool her face. She tried scanning the corners and alleys, looking for Travis’s suspected spy, but rain and the limits of the streetlights revealed nothing but bricks and concrete and shadows. She wished Travis were here; they needed to talk. A conversation with him was guaranteed stimulation, whether they laughed, debated, or explored the merits of more serious topics.
Of course, in years to come, she might always associate the concession stand with Travis McCormick and their naughty rendezvous. If he was here, talking might not be the first activity to cross their minds.
“Damn.” Tess batted the screen in frustration, flicking the collected drips onto the sidewalk. She straightened and circled the stand, searching for something else to clean, prep or put away before her shift was over at eleven.
She and Travis really did need to talk. She’d decided to confess that she was the college encounter he’d compared her to last night. He had more sexual experience—perhaps he could help her understand how she could be forgettable one time and irresistible the next. How she could pour her heart and body into caring for him, and he could…forget her.
She didn’t want him to feel guilty. She didn’t blame him for being drunk. But so much of her own sexual confidence—or lack thereof—had hinged on that embarrassing encounter that she just needed some answers. How much of last night was just seizing the moment and helping a friend get what she wanted?
“Sounds like a Dr. Phil show.” She fisted up a wad of paper towels and wiped down the minifridge, which was already spotless. “Insecure woman competes against herself for the affections of a sexy man. And loses.” Man, could she use a sympathetic sounding board right about now. “That’s messed up, girl.”
“If I’d known you were out here by yourself in the middle of the night, I’d have come by sooner.” Travis’s rich, mischievous baritone through the screen startled her.
“McCormick!” Tess pressed a hand to her thumping heart and then to the heat blossoming on her cheeks, buying herself a few moments to gather her composure and pray he hadn’t heard those last few thoughts she’d spoken out loud. Not exactly the way she wanted that conversation to start.
“Who’re you talkin’ to? The voices inside your head?”
“At least I’m in good company.” When she finally turned around, she saw the dark spots on his tan jacket where the rain had soaked his broad shoulders. His hair looked like liquid bronze slicked against his scalp. And in the light from inside the stand she saw the rivulets of moisture streaking his clean-shaven cheeks as he pressed his nose into the screen. She laughed at the teasing expression on his face and crossed to the counter. “Didn’t your mother ever talk to you about hats and umbrellas and staying out of the rain so you wouldn’t catch cold?”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t paying attention that day.”
“Did you ever?”
His devilish smile disappeared as he straightened to a military posture, and suddenly she could see the careworn lines her mother had spoken about that morning. “Seriously, T-bone, this street is deserted. And this screen wouldn’t stop anyone from breaking in if he wanted to get to you or that cash box.” He looked up and down the street. “All these shops are closed. With the street blocked off, there’s no traffic. With the rain, there are no vendors, no pedestrians. And I can barely make out the din from The Bounty from here, so I doubt anybody around the corner would hear you if you screamed.”
“Even the way I do it?” He was so damn serious she couldn’t resist the tease.
He opened his mouth to add another argument, but slowly closed it and shook his head. “Yeah, even the way you scream.” He swiped the moisture from his face, taking some of the tension with it. “Where’s your car parked?”
“Far enough away that a smart woman would ask a certain strapping Marine to walk her to the parking lot when she’s done.”
“So are you done?”
She glanced up at the sheets of rain pouring off the edge of the awning. Judging by the steady staccato drumming on the metal roof, it wasn’t letting up anytime soon. And a walk to her car would give her the opportunity to talk to Travis. “I don’t think it would hurt to close up early.” She pointed to the awning anchors through the screen. “Do you mind?”
In under five minutes, she had the building locked down, her purse zipped inside her windbreaker, and a ball cap wedged on top of her head. She and Travis got soaked to the skin as they hurried to her car. They were actually too busy jumping puddles and ducking downspouts to get much talking done. So when Travis tried to close the car door behind her, with an offer to follow her home, she snatched at his soggy sleeve and asked him to join her.
Beads of rain clung to his golden lashes when he winked. “If you don’t mind a puddle in your passenger seat.” He closed the door behind her, dashed around to the passenger side and climbed in.
Tess already had the engine running and the heat turned on to help dry them out and keep the windows from fogging. “So, since it’s not really your job to patrol the streets of Ashton, what brings you out on a night like this?”
“Oh, damn, I forgot.” He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a bedraggled daisy. “Peace offering?”
Tess giggled at t
he sad little flower with its broken stem and smushed bloom. She rescued it from his big fingers and good intentions. “How sweet.” She touched the swath of delicate white petals to her nose and inhaled the fresh, light scent. It would require a fair amount of TLC to revive it to its original glory, but it was the thought that touched her. “I like this better than the roses that came this morning.”
“What roses?”
“A dozen long-stemmed red ones.”
Travis shifted, trying to get comfortable in the small space of the car. “Who were they from?”
“Not you, apparently.”
“No. Is there a secret admirer I’m competing with? Maybe a not-so-secret one?”
“Are you kidding?” She couldn’t get used to the idea of one man showering attention on her, much less two. “They’re probably not even for me. The card didn’t say, so more likely, they’re Amy’s. Or even Mom’s. Whoever sent them didn’t sign the card, either. It was just a weird, typed message.”
“How weird?”
“Something like ‘I enjoyed our time together, and I’ll find you again when the time is right.’ That is weird, right?”
Travis’s expression gave her her answer. The steely concern that had shadowed his gaze when he’d lectured her on nighttime safety risks darkened his blue eyes again, reminding Tess of the creepy feeling the roses had given her that morning. She leaned forward to stretch her back and roll the kinks from her neck, imagining that she could roll that unsettled feeling off her back as well.
Time to change the subject. She nodded toward the precious daisy. “So—what’s this for?”
“An apology.” Travis shrugged, then reached down to shove his seat back and give his long legs room to stretch out. The suspicions that had filled the car slowly dissipated, and a different kind of tension took their place. “Last night was…unexpected. But I was completely turned on. It was good for me, and I don’t mean just physically. I should have thanked you for that. Thanked you better than I did.”
