“And
do you have ID to prove it’s you?” he counters.
Drat.
“Not
exactly . . .” I hedge. “But I can tell
you, there’ll be two lipsticks, a power bar, and a spare pair
of panties in there with my registration. I’m a regular girl
scout,” I wink. “Ready for anything.”
I
hear Will snort beside me, so I jam my elbow in his ribs. The cop
pauses, thinking, but before he can slap cuffs on us both and cart us
off to jail, his radio buzzes on his hip. He holds up one finger to
us and answers, murmuring for a moment before he hangs up and looks
back at us. “You’ll call triple A?”
I
nod enthusiastically. “Right now. Sorry to take your time!”
“Hrmph.”
He grunts, then gives a curt nod, turns, and heads back down the
block. I wait until he’s around the corner, then sink against
the car in relief.
“Oh my god, that was
close!” I exclaim, my heart racing. “I thought we were in
trouble for sure.”
“What was that, with your
eyelashes?” Will looks at me with clear amusement. “I
thought you’d lost a contact or something.”
“Those
were feminine wiles!” I protest.
“Is
that what you call it?” he teases.
“Hey!”
I hit his arm again, laughing. “Thank me later, why don’t
you? I just saved us both from jail. And orange goes terribly with my
complexion.”
“I don’t believe that
for a minute. But thank you, Delilah.”
He
smiles at me, all hazel eyes and strong jawline, and I can’t
help but feel a tiny jolt of something sweet snake into my
bloodstream, hot and bold.
My
name sounds good on his lips.
My
mouth would feel even better there.
Luckily,
Will is oblivious to my wandering mind. He picks up the coat hanger.
“Ready to give this another try?”
The
thunder rumbles again, and it starts to rain; just a smattering of
drops for now, but I know, with this humidity, a real downpour is
coming soon. “It’s OK, you don’t need to wait
around.” I sigh. “The gods have it out for me. I don’t
want my terrible luck rubbing off on you.”
“Bad
day?” Will looks sympathetic.
“The
worst. I had a big pitch, and I bombed. Well, I didn’t even get
a chance to bomb,” I correct myself. “They didn’t
even give me the chance.”
“I’m
sorry.”
I
shrug. “I’ll bounce back. I always do. What about you?
You look all dressed up.”
Will
looks down at his suit and gives a wry smile. “I’m in
town for a job interview.”
“Oh
yeah? How did it go?”
“Fine,
I guess.” He pauses, then gives a long sigh, leaning beside me
against the hood. “The truth is, I’m not sure I even want
the position. I live in New York right now, and I thought maybe
moving down here would be the change I’m looking for, but now I
wonder . . .” He trails off, his handsome face
looking tired for a moment; all worn out. I wonder for a moment what
would make a guy like this—so full of wit and easy, relaxed
charm—feel so lost.
“It sounds like you’re
ready for a fresh start.”
He
looks over, surprised. “Exactly. I guess I don’t know
where, or what, just yet.”
“Well,
if your new beginning needs real estate of any kind . . .”
I pull a card from my pocket and pass it over with a flourish. “I’m
your girl.”
Will
smiles. “Oak Harbor, huh? Whereabouts is that?”
“About
four hours that way.” I point south. “It’s the best
place in the world.”
“Oh
really?” He turns my card over in his hand.
“Really,”
I insist, knowing that to some big-city guy, I probably sound like a
hick. But I don’t care, not when it comes to the town I love.
“I grew up there. It’s right on the shore, some of the
most beautiful coastline in the state. It’s a small town, but
not nosy or judgmental like a lot of places, we just look out for
each other. Then you’ve got the creek, and the woods, and all
the wide-open country—”
“OK,
OK, I believe you.” Will cuts me off, laughing. “Oak
Harbor, huh? Well, if I ever find myself down here again, I’ll
let you know.”
I
catch his eye. “Make sure you do.”
Will
holds my gaze, and I feel that surge of heat rush through me again,
stronger this time despite the damp trickle of rain down the back of
my neck. I start to wonder if maybe being stuck in the city tonight
might have some perks after all. I mean, if Will’s in town on
business, that means he’s probably free, and could use a
local’s guide to the city . . .
But
before I can suggest we go get a bite to eat somewhere, maybe a drink
or two, he looks away. “Let’s get you out of this rain
and on the road before it really comes down,” he says, picking
up his tools. “Wedge?”
“Wedging,”
I agree, and jam it between the door frame again. He snakes the wire
through the gap, and angles it for the door release. This time, he
makes contact. A couple of jabs, and the lock releases.
“You
did it!” I open the driver’s door and do a little victory
dance. “Oh my god, I can’t believe it actually worked!”
I turn back and fling my arms around Will. “Thank you, thank
you!”
He
laughs, a rumble against me. “My pleasure.”
His
body is warm against mine, surprisingly taut and solid under that
fancy suit. My pulse kicks from his closeness, and I catch a breath
of his scent, fresh and clean, like the woods in spring. I have to
fight the urge to slide my arms over the planes of his shoulders to
lean in closer and nestle myself in the crook of his arm.
What
are you doing, Dee?
I
quickly step back, flushing. “I guess if you really want a
change, you could turn to a life of crime,” I blurt, covering.
“I’ll
put it on the list.” Will looks a little thrown too, and I
wonder if he felt the heat from that moment, too—or is just
weirded out by being groped by a complete stranger. “Wait.”
He pauses. “We got it open, but how are you going to drive?”
“Ta
da!” I lean into the car, flip the middle cup-holder, and pull
out a key. “And I have a spare under the mat at home, too.”
“You’re
all set.” Will grins. “Well, I guess I better get going
now.”
“Oh.”
I feel a surge of disappointment. For all the bad luck I’ve had
today, this part has actually been fun. I don’t want to see him
go so soon, but he’s spent enough of his time helping me out.
He probably has someplace to be—and a girl to show him a good
time once he’s there. “Sure, thanks again. I really
appreciate it.”
“Anytime.”
Will nods. “So . . .” He pauses like he’s
going to say something else, but instead, he nods, and flashes me
another heart-stopping smile. “Goodbye, Delilah.”
“Goodbye,
Will,” I echo, watching him walk away. Right on cue, there’s
another ominous rumble of thunder, and then the light smatter of
raindrops turns into a full-on shower. Will picks up the pace,
jogging for dry land.
I
feel a pang.
I
could get in my car right now, hit the road for home, but I can still
feel the warm imprint of his body against mine; feeling suddenly,
inexplicably
right
.
“Wait!”
I call, taking off after him. I sprint down the block, my feet
splashing in the gutters. “Will, wait!”
He
stops on the corner and turns back, looking confused. “Wait,”
I say again breathlessly, and then before I can think twice, I reach
up on my tiptoes, grab him by the tie, and kiss him.
Just
like that.
His
mouth is soft, cool from the rain, but the feel of his lips against
mine is hotter than an inferno. Every last nerve in my system ignites
in a heartbeat, screaming to life with red-hot electricity that
sizzles and surges, making me arch up closer, wanting more.
For
a moment, we’re suspended there, frozen. And he kisses me back.
Will
pulls me against him, easing my lips open and sliding his tongue deep
in a heady dance that makes my head spin and my knees go weak. The
fever of the moment crashes through me, and I hold on for dear life,
suddenly lost in the sweet, delicious feel of his mouth, his tongue,
his hands gripping my waist tightly, and
mmmm
,
the solid planes of his body, muscular arms crushing me close. I
could stay here forever, swept up in something so sweet and wild, but
at last, we come up for air.
I
step back, my heart pounding, blood singing in my veins. “Thanks
again,” I murmur, as the real world slips back into focus. I
smooth down his damp shirt and wink. “See you around.”
I
turn and walk away before he can say a word, breaking into a run as
the rain pours down and I dash to my car through the deluge. I hurl
myself inside, slam the door behind me, and catch my breath, my head
still spinning.
That
was some kiss.
A
grin spreads across my face as I buckle up, start the engine, and hit
the road again, the wipers doing a furious dance on the windshield.
But even through the torrents of rain, I still see Will’s face,
back there on the street after I kissed him: his wet hair rumpled,
his eyes bright with passion, and those lips . . .
I
shiver happily. I haven’t had a kiss like that in, well,
forever.
So
why didn’t you get his number?
I
shake off the scolding voice in my mind. The one thing I’ve
learned about guys is the good times never last. Commitment,
relationships—they all fall apart in the end, ruined by
cheating or lies, or just the ordinary grind of everyday existence.
I’ve seen it happen too often to keep believing in that
happily-ever-after. No, I decided a long time ago that it’s
better to just enjoy the moment for what it is: an amazing moment. A
heart-stopping kiss. A wild, adventurous night together. Nothing
more—and nothing less, either.
This
way, there’s no disappointment. I won’t ever find out
that Will leaves dirty laundry on the bathroom floor, or stops
calling after a couple of weeks, or has fifteen different online
dating profiles and a girl in every state. No mess, no fuss, no
angry, painful breakup three months from now that leaves me cursing
his name into a bottle of tequila.
He’ll
always be the gorgeous guy who helped me out of a tough spot—and
who kissed me on a rain-soaked street corner so hard, I forgot my own
name.
I
tuck the memory away, smiling, and head for home.
A
week later, and just as I predicted, Will seems like a distant dream.
The memory of our kiss feels more than just two hundred miles away,
but a different lifetime: a scene from a movie you watch before the
credits roll, and you emerge from the dark theatre blinking at the
bright sunlight of real life again.
Today,
real life is the Oak Harbor Realty office, my last appointment of the
day, and one very nervous client finally ready to sign their lease on
a dream condo. At least, that’s what was supposed to be the
plan.
“Are
you sure the traffic noise won’t be a problem?” the
client, Miles, pauses with the pen just over the lease. In his late
fifties, with two grown children moved away and a wife who decided to
pack up and become a yoga teacher in Arizona, Miles is finally ready
to move on with his life—and into a neat, small condo on the
golf course. We must have looked at two dozen places before finding
the perfect place for him, but even now, I can see his indecision
holding him back. “And those association fees . . .”
“Are
well within your budget,” I reassure him. “And we tested
for noise in every room, remember? Even with all the windows open,
you couldn’t hear a thing.”
“True . . .”
Miles reaches to sign, then pulls back his hand again. “I just
don’t know. Maybe we should keep looking, make sure there’s
nothing better around.”
“I
can promise you, you won’t find anything so close to the links.
Those condos get snatched up the minute they’re free.”
But I can see he’s still wavering, so I give him a big smile
and add, “You know what, if you’re not one hundred
percent, then don’t sign. We can look as long as you want. I’m
here to help you.”
Miles
looks surprised. Maybe he was expecting me to strong-arm him with
enthusiasm like other realtors, or threaten that we’d never
find him something this good, but I never see the point in those kind
of hard-sell tactics. My clients aren’t just commissions to me:
they’re my neighbors, too. Miles here sold insurance to my
parents, volunteers alongside me at the Christmas food drive, and
once helped me duct-tape a leaking pipe when the water wouldn’t
shut off. If he needs another day—or week, or month—before
making his decision, that’s just fine with me.
“You
know what? I’m being silly now,” he declares. “This
place is perfect, and I know my golf handicap will never be better.”
He signs the lease with a smile.
“Congratulations!”
I reach across my desk and shake his hand. “I’ll get
copies of everything made and set you up with an official move-in
date.”
“Thanks
for everything,” Miles says, getting to his feet. “I
guess it’s time for a new beginning.”
“You’ll
do great.”
By
the time I see him out and finish printing up some papers, it’s
time to close up for the day. I’m just leaving the files on my
boss’s desk when my cell rings. I fish it from my pocket.
“Eva!”
I exclaim, delighted, when I see the caller ID. “How are you? I
miss you! When are you coming to visit? When can
I
come and visit
you
?”
She
laughs down the line at my torrent of questions. “I’m
great! I miss you too, not for a while yet, and whenever you get your
ass up here!”
I
sink into Marcie’s chair, feeling a pang at her familiar voice.
Eva’s my best friend; she just moved away with her fiancé,
and even though we talk and text all the time, it’s not the
same. “This place isn’t the same without you,” I
sigh. “It feels like you’re on the other side of the
world. But tell me you’re having a great time.”