Ready for Anything, Anywhere! Page 44

  “Thank you. And you’ll be careful around that kid you’re tutoring?”

  Of course she would, but wondered at Carson’s continued insistence. “You don’t trust anyone, do you?”

  “This isn’t about me.”

  “I think it just became about you.” She hitched a knee up to turn and face him even as he kept his eyes forward on the road. “You say you want to apologize, and sure you’re helping. But I’m still confused. Can we only relate if things are about me? When does it become about you, too? Otherwise this is a one-sided, um, friendship—” yeah, friendship was a good word “—that’s not fair to either of us.”

  His hands tightened around the wheel and she thought for a while he would simply keep driving until he whipped into the next turn. At a fast-food parking lot?

  He threw the truck in park and turned to face her. “My parents were drug addicts.”

  Huh? That was a little more than she’d expected. She was thinking more along the lines of … What? She didn’t know much of anything about him, and she wouldn’t know more if she didn’t unglue her tongue from the roof of her mouth and participate in this conversation. “I thought you said you had a privileged upbringing.”

  “I said my family has money.”

  “Guess I’m just as guilty of making character assumptions as you were with ‘Thug.’” She couldn’t stop herself from placing a sympathetic hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry—for the assumption and for how difficult your childhood must have been.”

  His quick nod offered his only acknowledgment of her empathy. With a brief squeeze of comfort she took her hand back, the heat of him tingling through her veins until she clenched her fist to hold on to the sensation. Already she could piece together parts he’d left unsaid, how no one thought to suspect anything, which left Carson and his sister unprotected.

  Carson cut a quick glance over. “You can ease up a little on the sympathy. My sister and I went to great schools, and thank God for the nannies or things would have been a helluva lot worse.”

  “Somehow I think it was plenty bad enough.” She shuffled this new image of Carson around in her mind and couldn’t help but soften. “Where are your parents now?”

  “Dad almost died of an overdose about two years ago.” He recited the information in emotionless monotones. “Some thought that would scare him clean, he even tried. They’ve both been in and out of rehab clinics a dozen times and it never seemed to stick. Bottom line, I don’t think either of them wants to change.”

  The resigned acceptance in his voice stabbed through her.

  He kept his face forward even though their parking spot under the golden arches enabled him to look wherever he wished. “So, no. I don’t trust easily.”

  Yet she couldn’t miss how he’d trusted her today with a piece of himself and his past she suspected very few—if any—knew about.

  “Enough heavy crap for one day.” He reached for the door. “I hope burgers are okay.”

  “What?”

  “Burgers. As in lunch, with some salty fries and a couple of apple pies. I assume you haven’t eaten yet.”

  “No. But—”

  “We’ll get them to go.”

  “And where are we going with these burgers?”

  He smiled.

  “Trust me.” God help her, she did.

  Chapter 7

  Trust was a tricky thing. Much easier to live up to than to give.

  Carson parked his truck in the marina lot, more than a little humbled by how easily Nikki had gone along with his mystery plan. Although given the wariness creeping into her clear gray eyes as she looked across the line of bobbing boats down to Beachcombers Bar and Grill, she seemed ready to revoke her easy compliance.

  “My sailboat’s docked here now that I invested in something larger,” he explained.

  “Oh. Right. I thought for a minute you planned to wrangle some memories out of me and honestly, I’ve found that forcing it doesn’t work.” She sagged against the seat, staring out toward the bar with a melancholy weariness staining her eyes. “They always sneak up on me best when I’m not expecting anything.”

  “You’re starting to remember what happened with Owens?”

  She turned her head on the seat toward him. “Almost right away actually, I’ve gotten these smattering bits and pieces that may or may not be helpful. I shared everything with Agent Reis, for what it’s worth. I even let Mom contact a hypnotist colleague from work, but I never could get past thinking what an ugly watch he was using for a focus point.”

  “Resistant?”

  “Scared to death.”

  “Thank you for trusting me today.” He wanted to say more, but knew better than to let things get any deeper and thereby ruin the afternoon. “Come on. I don’t have lazy days much anymore and I intend to enjoy the hell out of this one.”

  Reaching into the back, he grabbed an extra windbreaker and tossed it to Nikki before snatching up their fast-food bags. Seemed she needed this day out on the water even more than he did. He couldn’t help but think how in the past he would have offered a woman a more romantic meal such as croissants, fruit—mimosas.

  Except he’d left behind his days of setting his mustache on fire with a flaming bar drink. His call sign Scorch may have stuck, but his party ways were long gone. He just hoped the burgers and sodas he had to offer now would be enough.

  Even on the chilly winter day, the marina hummed with activity. No one swam in the frigid waters, but plenty perched on boat decks and along the docks wearing downy wind-breakers and cinched hoods, fishing off the pier or lounging on a bow. Carson searched the faces, wondering how many of them may have been at Beachcombers that night. Damn it, why couldn’t he remember who he’d seen on his way to pick up his barbecue wings?

  He’d been so hell-bent on getting out of there, the scent of whiskey and rum taking him to dangerous mental places. Then once he’d seen Nikki, he hadn’t been looking at anyone else. He’d been tempted to hang out and talk to her as he’d done too often in the past. Since he’d been so tempted, he’d hauled ass away as fast as possible.

  Guilt hammered him like the rogue swing of a boat boom. If he’d stayed around, maybe he could have prevented what happened. Owens would be alive. Nikki’s life would be nor-mal—and he would still be dodging her.

  Wouldn’t he? His fist tightened around the sack of burgers, which made him think of those brown-sugar-rich wings and that night all over again, not to mention another time he’d tasted hints of the sugary sauce while kissing Nikki after their friends’ wedding.

  Jesus, he really was in a crapload of trouble if he could remember who catered a wedding seven months ago. His feet thudded down the planked dock, past everything from a tiny Hobie catamaran manned by two teens in wet suits to a Beneteau yacht with jeweled partiers, toward his thirty-one-foot Catalina, a bargain bought used. Good thing boats didn’t age like cars.

  Without stopping, which would invite conversation and gossip, he waved at the crowded deck on the Dakota-Rat, a sailboat owned by Vic Jansen, the brother-in-law of fellow crew member Bo Rokowsky. The Rokowsky family outing resembled nothing from Carson’s past but exactly the sort he’d wanted right down to the little blond kid with pigtails and a wife.

  Except there was an empty space in the family since Bo was deployed.

  Nikki shouted a greeting out over the water which would no doubt start the rumor mill churning at the squadron. He should have thought about that.

  Maybe other people would have stepped in to help her if he hadn’t preempted everyone else. Was he keeping her from something better on a personal level, too? She should have a houseful of children. She was a helluva teacher. He’d bet she would be an amazing mother, much like her own.

  And she would. With some lucky bastard he didn’t want to think about. Someday. Later. After he got her through this nightmarish time in her life safely.

  “I brought you here to relax, but I didn’t think about Beachcombers being so close. If it’s
a problem we can leave.”

  He stopped beside his boat slip, considering something else he could do to fill the day, kicking himself for assuming she would enjoy sailing as much as he did.

  “No, really. It’s all right. If I hid from every reminder of this whole mess, I would never go anywhere.” She extended her hand. “Help me aboard?”

  There she went again, being so trusting when he deserved to crawl for what he’d done. He certainly deserved more wariness. All he’d offered her were a couple of unsavory facts from his childhood.

  He took her hand, a strong hand with short nails and impossibly soft skin he remembered, too. His memory flamed with their out-of-control kiss at his door, her hands tunneling up under his shirt, gliding her softness over him at a time when raw pain heated him from the inside out. He owed her so damn much.

  Carson held her hand tighter as she stepped on the rocking hull, palmed her waist for the final boost. She looked so right there he wondered why he’d never thought to bring her before.

  “Catch.” He pitched the rope to her, leaped aboard and finished launching from the dock.

  Already the familiar roll of the waves rocking beneath soothed his soul like a cradle in motion shooshes a baby. He took his place behind the wheel, firing the small motor to power them out of the narrow channel, Nikki an arm’s reach away, trailing her fingers in the light spray.

  She pulled her hand out. “Are you doing this today for my dad, too?”

  “What part of trust me did you not understand?”

  She flicked her damp fingers, showering an icy spray on his face. “Just joking.”

  Laughing, he leaned low and popped in the CD he’d bought this morning once he’d realized he would be detouring to her parents’ house. He cranked the volume as the best of the 1940’s spun up some “Bing” along with the percussion of the waves against the hull.

  “Oh, you’re playing dirty today.”

  “Gotta work with what you’ve got.” He revved the motor to clear the channel without creating too large a wake to damage the shore.

  The croon of the engine and slosh of waves mixed with Nikki’s off-key croonings that somehow took on a musicality all their own.

  After they finished the final bite of apple pie, she glanced over at him. “Thank you. This is really nice.”

  “I’ve missed running into you.”

  “Missed me showing up all the time, you mean?” She tipped her face into the sun. “God, I can hardly believe now how obvious I must have been with that mega embarrassing crush I had on you.”

  Had. Past tense.

  Of course he’d known, and done his best to treat her like a little sister—except for one major lapse. He should have kept well away all the time, but God, she was charming.

  He cut the motor, ready to switch to sail power. In a minute. After he had the answer to one more question he had to know now. “What do you think we would have done today if I hadn’t screwed everything up then?”

  “Hmm. You would have asked me to come along and I would have pretended it was no big deal. So we would have been doing the same thing, except now we’re both coming into this with no expectations and being totally true to who we are. And speaking of being totally me, do you mind waiting a few more minutes to set sail?”

  “Whatever works for you. This day is about you relaxing.”

  “Sometimes there’s nothing more relaxing than getting your heart racing.”

  Heart racing? She couldn’t actually mean what his body hoped she meant even if his mind knew better. She’d just said she was over her crush on him.

  Before he could reason through the maze of her words, she’d jumped from her seat and clambered over to the main mast.

  And up.

  Holy crap.

  Those long legs of hers in jeans and strong arms in his windbreaker shimmied her higher, her ponytail swaying from the back of her ball cap. He’d done the same countless times, but this was different. Enticingly different. He held the wheel and watched her stare out over the scenery, gasp in air, totally in the moment.

  Sunlight streamed down over her. No makeup. No jewelry. But plenty of bling just from … her.

  Bling and Bing. Modern but timeless, with a breezy sophistication in her old-soul self. He was toast.

  So for the moment he surrendered and simply enjoyed the view of her slim body, the sweet curve of her bottom so perfectly on display. Sensory memory returned of gripping her taut roundness as he rolled her beneath him.

  Who knew how much time he spent staring at her before she inched her way back down again and settled in a seat beside him. “Wow, the view from there is amazing.”

  Amazing. Yeah. That summed her up. “You scared the crap out of me, but that’s one helluva pole dance, lady.”

  She threw her head back in her full-out laugh, so much more “real” than anything he could ever remember hearing or seeing in the affected world of his parents’ social whirl. He raised the nylon sails, easing out the line bit by bit, savoring the increasing pull on his muscles.

  Nikki shaded her eyes with her hand. “Do you need help?”

  “I’ll let you know. For now, just enjoy the ride.”

  Too bad he couldn’t seem to take his own advice around this woman.

  * * *

  Her eyes full of sun, sail and sky, Nikki lounged along the cushioned seat while Carson manned the wheel like a Viking captain of old, making minor adjustments while the star-burst-patterned nylon billowed. Why hadn’t he named his boat? He obviously loved this vessel, and she could understand why.

  Sailing offered a secluded slice of heaven.

  He’d been right to bring her here. Tension from the investigation eased, even while another tension altogether kinked as she felt herself drawn in again by this man.

  Except before, she never would have done something as impulsive and undignified as climb a mast while he could see her. How strange to realize that in those days she hadn’t been true to herself. She hadn’t shown him the total picture of Nikki Price. Or had she tried to morph herself into what she thought he wanted?

  The craft picked up speed along the waves, biting through the wind like a plane cutting through the clouds. She imagined he looked much the same at the helm of his C-17. “If you love the water so much, why didn’t you join the Navy?”

  Feet planted and braced, his thigh muscles bulged against worn denim. “I didn’t much like the idea of six months out on ship duty every year. Besides, the water’s my hobby, my way of relaxing. If I turn it into work, I might lose that.”

  “Such as how I enjoy sports and running, but didn’t want to be a gym teacher.”

  “Exactly.” A gull winged low, dipping for supper in the comfortable silence before he picked up the conversational thread again. “Have you sailed much?”

  “Nope. This is my first time.”

  The wheel slithered through his shocked-slack fingers before he secured his grip again and redirected the bow. “You crawled up there blind? What if it hadn’t been safe? Good God, haven’t you pitched off enough high places into water for one month?”

  His concern was more than a little touching. She brushed a reassuring hand over his thigh—whoa baby. She pulled her arm back. “You would have told me to stop.”

  “You’re trusting me too easily.”

  “That’s just my body, not my heart, pal. Two very different matters.”

  At least he had the grace to look away. “So this is your first boating trip.”

  “It’s my first sailing outing, but I’ve been boating. My family camped a lot growing up. Dad had a little John boat.” She’d forgotten about those outings until now, and took comfort from knowing her childhood hadn’t been all about her parents’ arguments. “He pulled it behind that old truck he still drives. I swear he’ll be driving that same truck when he takes Jamie and the new baby off to college.”

  “Are you okay with these new additions to your family?” Alongside, a fish jumped and plopped.

&
nbsp; “I’m a little old for sibling rivalry, don’t you think?”

  “Feelings aren’t always reasonable.”

  She’d never even considered it, but searched her heart and came up with. “I feel more like their aunt than a sister, which makes me a little sad. But Mom and Dad are a lot stronger as a couple this go-round. The kids will have everything they need and more. Actually, since Dad’s coming up on retirement in less than five years, he’ll be pulling cupcake duty for elementary birthday parties while Mom works.”

  “Now that’s an image guaranteed to spread grins around the squadron, a crusty old loadmaster stirring up a batch of frosting with sprinkles.”

  “I’ll try to slip you some pictures.”

  His laugh rolled out over the cresting waves rippling toward one of the ka-jillion small historic battlefield parks throughout the Charleston area. “So you really are okay with the new rug rat siblings.”

  “Totally. They’re gonna have a great life. Don’t get me wrong, Chris and I had a good childhood in so many ways, but for these children, things will be more stable.”

  He set the autopilot and shifted to stand beside her, leaning back against the side. “So when your dad says no flyboys for his little girl, it’s a sentiment you echo.”

  “That would be strange since I’ve spent so much time dating flyers.” Was he only making idle conversation? Tough to think and decide with his body heat blasting.

  “I figured it was a rebellion thing against your father.”

  No way was she confessing to her real reason for her recent run of flyboy dates who happened to have preppy blond good looks.

  She shifted her attention to the boats in the distance and the ones remaining in the faraway dock by Beachcombers. More familiar memories of the place flooded her brain, stuffed fish peering down from over windows with glass eyeballs and slack jaws. Netting full of shells, sand dollars and coral stretched across the wall. Small lanterns rested on each wooden picnic table, the smoky blue glass letting little light flicker through, more mood setting than illuminating.

  Nothing new, yet she still clung to every detail, searching for a hidden clue in the place where she’d run into Carson last week while waiting for Gary.