On the Rocks (A Turtle Island Novel)

by Kim Law

  It was Saturday night. Date two with Patrick. And she wanted everything to be right.

  The other night she’d barely tried, and he’d really seemed to like her. Which made her almost giddy at the thought of the effort she’d put into her appearance tonight. She’d even gone by Samantha’s and bought a new dress. Samantha’s was the only boutique on the island, but that didn’t mean the selection was limited. Samantha Greene, the owner, took regular trips to New York to stay abreast of the latest trends, as well as to secure pieces to sell in her store.

  Tonight Ginger had on a design that had come in only last week. A cute little sleeveless frock with a sweetheart collar. The dark blue of the dress was covered with tiny butterflies.

  It wasn’t exactly her style, but it was lovely. And it made her feel very feminine.

  She’d gone all out, too. Strappy silver heels, makeup, and her hair had never been so cute. Curls bounced at her shoulders. She’d even gotten a manicure that afternoon. Patrick didn’t stand a chance.

  “There you go.” Her mother finished with the eye and patted Ginger on the cheek.

  “Everything else look okay?” Ginger asked. Nerves had her suddenly wondering if she shouldn’t have tried so hard. Was it too much? She looked down at herself, hoping Patrick liked what he saw, and did a little spin for her mom.

  “Perfect,” her mother confirmed. She gave Ginger a soft smile, and Ginger expected wise words of wisdom to come from her. Instead, what she got was “Should I make myself scarce tonight? In case you two want to . . .”

  “Mom!” Ginger’s eyes went wide. “It’s only the second date.”

  Which didn’t mean she hadn’t seriously considered bringing out the cute underwear.

  But on the off chance that she was tempted to toss her morals out the window, she’d left the lace in her dresser drawer. She preferred cotton undies anyway. And with the nerves she had going on, she needed all the comfort she could get.

  “Well, it’s not like you’re getting any younger,” her mom pointed out. “And he did seem to really like you the other night.” She cast a shrewd eye at Ginger. “You liked him, too, right?”

  “I did.” Ginger answered without thinking, but at the words she stopped and gave the question serious consideration.

  Sure, she liked Patrick. He was nice and had good manners. And he was easy on the eyes. What wasn’t to like? But it wasn’t as if she’d been swept off her feet.

  As her mom had just pointed out, though, she wasn’t getting any younger. This fact, and the lack of ever being swept off her feet, had led her to wonder if that was purely an embellished teenage emotion. Was real life . . . mature love . . . calmer?

  She hoped not. It was a sad thought.

  “Yes,” she reiterated, this time with a nod. “I liked him. He was great.”

  He was certainly better than any other option that had crossed her path lately.

  “Then have fun,” her mom said. “And don’t worry so much.” She kissed Ginger on the cheek, and Ginger pulled her in for a quick hug.

  “Thanks, Mom.” Stepping back, she picked up her purse and cell phone and nodded toward the door. “I need to make a call before he gets here. I’ll do it outside.”

  It was after work hours, but she’d been trying to get her contractor to return her calls for three days. Before she completely shut down for the weekend, she intended to give it one more shot. She had to get things moving. She couldn’t very well live in a house with no electricity or walls.

  Stepping outside, she placed the call, and found herself heading to the side of the porch next to Carter’s house while she waited. As the phone rang, she scanned the house, noting that unlike the last two days, the blinds were open. That must mean Julie was home.

  “This is Darrin,” a man’s voice said in her ear.

  Relief raced through her. “Darrin. I’m so glad I got you. This is Ginger Atkinson. The house on—”

  “On Beachview,” Darrin finished for her. “Yeah. What can I do for you?”

  Unless the man never listened to his voice messages, that was a ridiculous question. She’d left three that week telling him what he could do for her.

  “I need to get the house finished,” she stated.

  “Sure.” She heard him flipping pages. “We’ve got a job to finish up first, but I could have a crew out there by the middle of November.”

  “November?” she screeched. She tossed her purse in a chair and paced the length of the porch. “But I need to move in in six weeks.”

  “Well, then . . . hmmm . . .”

  More pages flipped.

  “That seems to be a problem,” he finally said.

  “Two months before you can start is definitely a problem,” Ginger grumbled. “My mother’s new husband will be moving in here at the end of next month. I have to be out by then.”

  “I heard about your mother’s engagement. Tell her congratulations for me, will you?”

  She ground her teeth together and retraced her steps. “Tell her yourself. When you get back to work on my house.”

  “I’m sorry, Ginger, but that’s just not possible right now. We had to move on.”

  Dang it. She knew she’d caused delays, but Darrin had known she would need it completed eventually. What good was an unfinished house?

  “Should I put it on the calendar?” he asked.

  Panic squeezed her chest. What else could she do? “Yes,” she muttered.

  They said their good-byes, and she palmed the phone. Maybe she could rent a place until it was done. Truth be told, she probably should have rented a place and moved out years ago.

  The Ridley door opened, and she watched as Carter came out, said something to his sister, then stomped to the car. Frustration was evident on his face, but the thing that pulled Ginger’s attention the most was that he looked . . . good.

  Like . . . good. Had he looked like that the other day?

  She remembered thinking he was too thin. And she’d been shocked to see him, so maybe she hadn’t paid that much attention. And he’d smelled vaguely of cigarette smoke.

  But dang, his jeans fit his body well tonight.

  The sight reminded her of what he’d looked like as a teenager. When most of the other boys were just starting to fill out, he’d already had that part handled. And every girl in school had been aware of it.

  She’d had his attention on occasion, only because they’d been friends for years, but she’d never had the kind of attention she’d wanted. She’d been so jealous of the girls he’d dated.

  Carter looked up then, as if he could feel her watching him, and when his gaze landed on her, he did a double take. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her, and when she waved, he only frowned. Which made her smile.

  When had the man become so grumpy?

  And what had caused him to be that way?

  The last question hit her more seriously. It had crossed her mind a few times over the past several days. He most certainly wasn’t the same guy he’d been in high school. Back then, he’d been a joy to be around. And a gentleman to boot. Every girl he hung with would rave about how much fun he was. How considerate. How he rarely had a bad thing to say about anyone.

  But it hadn’t just been his fun factor, he’d truly been a happy person. He’d conquered optimism and held it by the reins.

  He and Ginger used to meet up before daylight most mornings. They’d watch the sun rise together while doing nothing more than talking. Many mornings it would be about whatever had happened the night before, or the day before at school. She even heard about his dates. Although, never the naughty bits—which she’d been grateful for.

  They’d talked about their hopes and dreams. They’d spent countless hours outlining the lives that lay before them. And they’d both known exactly what they’d wanted.

  Hers hadn’t turned out at all like she thought. She wondered if his had.

  She also wondered if he still had a wife. There had been no sign of one. Was that the reason f
or his seemingly permanent snarl? Or was he simply unhappy with life in general these days? The thought saddened her. She may not have seen him in years, but that didn’t keep her from caring about an old friend.

  Patrick pulled up then, and she ignored Carter to focus on her date and his late-model BMW. She couldn’t help but wonder if flute sales were good enough to support that vehicle, because it was one fine ride. Or if, instead, the car might belong to his mother.

  When he stepped from the driver’s-side door, she decided she didn’t care. He was hot.

  She remembered her purse at the last minute and snagged it off the porch chair, then tossed one more wave to Carter for good measure. Again, he only frowned.

  When Patrick caught sight of her and did the same double take as Carter, she warmed.

  That’s right. I’m looking good tonight.

  I’ve got this date in the bag.

  CHAPTER SIX

  She’d had nothing in the bag.

  Frustration for the way the night before had ended once again burned through Ginger’s body, bringing with it the sting of tears. She managed to hold them off, just barely, but it was only a matter of time.

  What had she done wrong?

  She brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, ignoring the fact that the rock she sat on was damp from the dew that had collected overnight and that the dampness had seeped through her leggings.

  The gray-blue of the presunrise morning sat before her, the waves rolling as the tide headed back out to sea, and Ginger gave in and let the tears fall. She’d come out to what she considered “her rock” this morning, needing to see the sun come up. She needed to know that the world was beautiful. That elsewhere, others were seeing the same start to the day. That—hopefully—at least one person watching this view didn’t have as pathetic a life as hers.

  Or maybe the entire world sucked for everyone.

  Who needed a man, anyway? Especially a man who lived with his mother and made flutes?

  For that matter, who needed a contractor?

  Well, she did, she supposed.

  Gravel crunched on the pull-off up the hill behind her, and as if the last ten-plus years hadn’t passed, she instinctively knew who’d arrived. The knowledge soothed her in a way that surprised her. It would be Carter. Because this wasn’t just her spot, it was theirs. It was where they’d watched sunrises together from a young age.

  She wiped at her eyes, removing evidence of the tears.

  “Ah, hell,” Carter muttered behind her. She’d walked over instead of driving, so he wouldn’t have had warning that he wasn’t alone when he first pulled up. Both his tone and his words made her smile. Misery loves company and all that. And if ever there was a miserable person in this world, it seemed to be the man who’d just shown up.

  She patted the spot beside her, not wasting the energy to look at him. “Don’t even think about leaving,” she said. “Come join me.”

  “I didn’t figure you still came out here.” His feet shuffled through the brush.

  “And I didn’t think you came out from behind those closed blinds,” she replied when he stopped shy of the rock she sat on. She peeked over her shoulder, noticed that he still wore the jeans he’d had on the night before, and lifted a brow. From the rumpled condition of his clothes, he’d slept in them. And from his bloodshot eyes, he’d done a lot of drinking before that.

  “Long night?” she asked.

  “Long life,” he countered.

  He came closer, stopping beside her, but he still didn’t sit. He held a plastic grocery bag in his hand, and she went back to staring at the horizon. She remained as silent as he. She wasn’t in a good mood, and if he didn’t want to talk, she certainly wouldn’t encourage him to do so.

  “Why are you here?” It surprised her when he spoke. “As dressed up as you were last night, I figured the date would still be going on.”

  “Yeah, well . . .” Her throat threatened to close. “As you can see, it’s not.”

  And she had no idea where it had gone wrong.

  The date had started off great. They’d been talking, she’d been looking good. She’d laughed in all the right places, and made sure she stroked his ego a time or two. She’d been at the top of her game. But halfway through dinner he’d seemed to lose interest. Just like that. Poof. He couldn’t care less.

  She’d continued to try, bringing up interesting topics and making sure she kept her attention focused on him. She’d even invited him in for a nightcap—though it would have stopped at that. But he hadn’t been interested. Said he had to be somewhere early this morning. Then he’d given her a friendly hug . . . and he’d almost squealed tires getting out of there.

  “So it didn’t go well?” Carter tried again.

  Ginger sighed. “What do you want, Carter? Why are you here?” She was not in the mood to talk about the sad state of her dating life.

  He settled in beside her. “Came to watch the sunrise.”

  “Then watch it.” And leave me alone.

  They both grew silent, and as she stared out at the pale light spreading its reach over the horizon, Carter pulled a pack of cigarettes from his bag. He lit one, and she bit her lip to keep from calling him an idiot. Wasn’t he aware that those things could kill him?

  Not to mention they were just nasty. She wouldn’t have thought he’d become a smoker.

  “Maybe you should have played a little harder to get,” he suggested.

  She clenched her teeth to hold in the growl of frustration. What did he know about it? But she found herself turning to him anyway, curiosity winning out. If he had suggestions, maybe she should—

  He blew out a stream of smoke as their gazes met.

  “That’s disgusting.” She wrinkled her nose.

  “That’s what I hear.”

  His eyes were an intense mix of greens and browns, and with a thick frame of eyelashes and the way they sat deep in the sockets, they held an air of mystery. And a serious side of sexy.

  Only, today they just looked angry.

  He picked up his bag again, and rummaged inside it. What he pulled out that time was a beer and a bottle opener. He held the beer out in front of her. “Want to ream me about this bad habit, too?”

  “Are you kidding me? The sun isn’t even up yet.”

  “I know. Want one?”

  She gawked at him.

  He ignored her and popped the top, then took a long drink before putting the cigarette back to his lips. Her subconscious nagged at her to pay attention. To look beyond the obvious. This wasn’t the Carter she’d once known. What was going on with him?

  But she didn’t care if he had bad habits or not. He could fill his lungs with cancer and drink his liver into rot. She was too busy feeling sorry for herself to waste time worrying about him.

  “What did you mean?” she asked.

  When he lifted a brow, she clarified, “What you said about me playing harder to get. I’m not easy. I didn’t—”

  “I didn’t mean you were easy.” He took another drag on his cigarette. “Not that I know about that one way or another.”

  “I’m not,” she repeated.

  She waited for him to say more, but instead, he took another drink. His stubbled jaw was set and hard, and her irritation increased the longer he remained silent. Was she really willing to take advice from a man she hadn’t seen in years? One who looked to need more than a bit of advice himself?

  Apparently so.

  “What did you mean?” she asked again.

  He blew out the smoke that had been swirling in his lungs, still taking his time, and when his gaze landed on her once again, he flicked a glance over her body before bringing it to her face. “I mean . . . do you really dress like that these days?”

  She looked down at herself. “Like what?”

  “Like you were last night. All dolled up, looking more plastic than real.”

  “I looked good!”

  “You didn’t look like you.
I’ll bet you even had a high-pitched giggle going, even if he wasn’t funny.”

  Anger shoved its way to the head of the class. She had not giggled. Much.

  And she’d worked darned hard fixing herself up. “I looked like me,” she informed him. “It was just a better version of me.” The version that didn’t look like a fishing-boat captain. Guys wanted girls who smelled like flowers. Not fish.

  Which reminded her, she needed to buy more perfume. She’d had to use her mom’s last night, but it smelled too perfumey for her.

  Was that what had turned Patrick off? He didn’t like her smell?

  Carter was still watching her, and she braced herself for a snide comment. He had the air of someone who was only capable of snide these days. Yet when he asked, “Are you sure?” in a brutally honest voice, it shredded her insides.

  He didn’t understand. This was what women did. They primped for dates. They put their best foot forward. They freaking giggled even when the jokes weren’t funny.

  “Forget it,” she muttered. She’d been right the first time. She didn’t want to talk about the sad state of her dating life.

  He took another drink of beer and went back to the sunrise, and she once again hugged her knees tight. The sky was changing now, from all blues to showing some pinks. Clouds were also blossoming with pinks and oranges, and several paddleboarders could be spotted in the water.

  There was something about this time of day. When everything was quiet and still. It made the world seem easier. It also made it less scary to voice things she wouldn’t normally say.

  “He just didn’t like me,” she said softly. She could feel Carter’s gaze trained on her again, but she motioned toward the water. “You’ll miss the sunrise.”

  He took the hint and looked away. “What didn’t he like?”

  “If I knew that, I’d fix it.”

  The top edge of the sun popped out from behind the ocean, and she held her breath. It was magnificent. Color filled the sky just above the water, and sprays of sunshine shot light through the clouds.