Imagine With Me: A With Me In Seattle Novel

by Kristen Proby

  “I’d love to try it. I can’t believe I can eat anything at all after the meal you made us for dinner.”

  “It’s been a while,” he says and serves me the stew. “I like having you in here where I can see you.”

  “Do you think I’m going to escape? Or embarrass you?”

  Shawn laughs and then shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean. You’re in here where I can see you. Rather than having to make excuses to go out there and get a glimpse of you. You may drive me mad, but you’re a pleasure to look at.”

  “Back at you, Mr. O’Callaghan.” I take a bite of the stew and sigh in happiness. “Oh, this is amazing. I’m going to have to try to talk Maggie into the recipe before I go home to Minneapolis. No one should have to live without this.”

  “She might give it to you,” he says. “I’m sorry I dragged you in here for the whole evening. If you want to take my car and go back to the house, you’re welcome to. I can catch a ride back with one of the others when we’re done.”

  Normally, I’d be itching to go home. To be wrapped up in my blankets and reading a book.

  But I’m enjoying myself here—much more than anticipated.

  “I’m actually fine where I am,” I say and eat more of my stew. “Is there bread to go with this?”

  “Of course.” He slices and butters a fresh roll, then passes it to me.

  “So good,” I say with a sigh. “Yeah, I’m good here. I’ll gain a million pounds, but who cares?”

  “Who indeed?”

  Last night, I was charmed by the clever pub and the wonderful patrons there, the music, and the O’Callaghan siblings. Especially Shawn. I spent several hours with him in the kitchen, and even jumped up to help him fill some orders when he had an extra-busy streak at about ten o’clock.

  Today, I’m back to wanting to commit the kind of murder I write about. Bloody, sinister slaughter.

  “You’re not listening to me,” I say, crushing a pillow with my fist. “Seriously, I listened to you the other day, and you’re not hearing me.”

  “Fine. Do whatever you want, Lexi.”

  “Oh my God. That’s not what I want either!”

  I’m going to scream, so I turn and stomp out of the room into the foyer, where I shove my feet into some shoes and storm out the door, slamming it behind me.

  That felt good.

  Yes, it was childish, but I don’t care.

  I need fresh air.

  I want to walk on the beach.

  I frown as I glance around the house. I know where the beach is, I just have no idea how to get down to it.

  Instead, I walk in large circles around Shawn’s driveway, breathing deeply.

  Why won’t he just listen to me? As soon as I start explaining why I think something should be written differently, he clams up. Doesn’t talk, won’t listen.

  Simply acts like a freaking child.

  I don’t know how I’m supposed to work like this.

  I hear the door open, but I don’t turn to look at him. I just keep marching around the driveway.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Walking off a mad.”

  I glance over. He’s standing on the bottom step, his hands in his pockets.

  “In the driveway?”

  “I wanted to walk on the beach, but I don’t know how to get down there.”

  He starts to walk, and I follow him. Mostly because I really want to walk on the beach. I’ve heard people talk about it all my life, and I want to see what the hype is about. Will it calm me? Will it terrify me?

  Most things scare me.

  There’s a path behind the house that leads down to the sand. At the bottom, I look both north and south, then back to the path that leads to the house so I don’t forget what it looks like. And then I turn to Shawn.

  “You can leave now.”

  I set off, headed south. The sand is packed and wet, I assume because the tide reaches up this far. The waves crash against the shore about fifty yards from me. Far enough away that I’m not afraid of being swept out by a riptide, or fear getting eaten by a beached whale.

  Not that I know anything about those things.

  The sound of the water is soothing, and before long, I feel my blood pressure start to lower.

  When I turn around to head back the way I came, I’m surprised to find Shawn not even a hundred yards behind me, his hands still in his pockets, his face impassive as he waits patiently.

  I walk toward him, pretty sure that the urge to kill him has passed. When I reach him, he surprises me by tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear.

  He’s done that before.

  Both times have made me sigh.

  “You infuriate me,” I admit in a calm voice.

  “I know. It’s not on purpose.”

  “Feels like it is.” We start to walk back down the beach, side by side. “When I tell you I don’t like something about what you’ve written, you clam up on me. You don’t say anything in response to me, and you don’t listen.”

  “I’m thinking,” he says. “If I’m not responding, it’s because I’m thinking, Lexi. It’s not because I’m deliberately being a jerk.”

  “It shouldn’t take you ten minutes to think of a response.”

  “No, but it might take me two minutes to wrap my head around something. I don’t think aloud like you and so many others. I process internally.”

  “Okay.” I sigh and step around a piece of driftwood. “Maybe in the future, if I disagree with you on something, I should state my case and then let you ponder it while I use the restroom or grab a snack or something.”

  “That would help, yes.” He takes my hand in his, surprising me. But I don’t pull away. “You’re not the most patient of women, Lexi.”

  I laugh. “You’re right. I’m not. I’ll try to work on it.”

  I wish we could spend all of our time away from the office. Because as much as we are at odds while we work, Shawn and I get along really well when we’re not talking business.

  Under different circumstances, I could see having a romantic relationship with this man.

  Unfortunately, that’s not in the cards. We need to figure out how to work together productively so we can finish the project, and then I’ll be on my way home.

  We head back to the path that leads up to Shawn’s house, and he suddenly tenses.

  “What is it?”

  “Something’s wrong.”

  Chapter 4

  ~Shawn~

  “What’s wrong?” Lexi calls out from behind me as she scurries up the hill, following my lead. She’s in excellent shape, and she’s able to keep up with me.

  “Don’t you smell it?”

  “Smell what?”

  I stop and turn to her, and she plows right into my chest. I catch her shoulders in my hands to keep her from falling.

  “Take a deep breath.”

  She complies, and then her eyes grow round. “Fire?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Oh, God. Is your house on fire?”

  “I fucking hope not.”

  My heart races in my chest as I crest the top of the hill and round the path. My eyes skim over my home, and I breathe a sigh of relief that I don’t see any smoke coming from the building or the detached garage.

  “Not your house,” she says, panting. “Has to be a neighbor. Or the woods.”

  “I only have one neighbor close by. I’m going to run over and see if it’s their house. You stay here.”

  “Yeah, right,” I hear her mutter as I take off in a full sprint, running to the neighbor’s house that’s a quarter of a mile down the road. Sure enough, smoke plumes from the roof of Steve’s house.

  I don’t have to look back to know that Lexi’s right behind me. I can hear her panting. She’s too damn stubborn to do as I ask.

  “Stay back. I mean it, Lexi.”

  “You can’t go in there!” she shouts, but I ignore her and kick in Steve’s back door.

  “Duchess!” The
fattest English Bulldog you’ve ever seen in your life comes jogging toward me, whining. “Come on, baby girl. Let’s get you out of here.”

  “Oh, poor baby,” Lexi says as Duchess lumbers over to Lexi and kisses her hand.

  I immediately call 911 and give them the information about the fire, and then call my neighbor on his mobile.

  “Hello?”

  “Steve, it’s Shawn. Your house is on fire, man. I got Duchess out and called 911, but you’ll want to get over here.”

  “Shit. I’m on my way. How bad?”

  I stare at the billowing smoke. I can now see flames coming out of the roof.

  “Bad. I’m sorry.”

  “Be there in ten.”

  He hangs up, and I can hear sirens from the fire trucks as they make their way down our windy road. Lexi’s sitting on the ground, cradling the big dog in her arms.

  “At least Duchess looks happy.”

  “She’s a sweetie,” Lexi says and kisses the dog’s face. “You know, I never thought much about having a dog, but I think when I get home, I’ll look into getting one. I mean, how could anyone resist this face?”

  Her anger from earlier is gone, and despite the inferno raging behind me, Lexi grins at Duchess, petting her gently. I briefly wonder what it would feel like to have Lexi’s hands stroking me like that; to have her smile at me with such tender affection.

  I must be losing it if I’m jealous of a dog.

  The fire trucks descend on the area, and we’re pushed back so the firemen can do their jobs. Steve comes screeching up beside us in his truck a few minutes later. He immediately reaches for his bulldog, who happily abandons Lexi for her master.

  “Thank God you got her out.” Steve’s a middle-aged bachelor who never married. He has his dog, and he works as an attorney in town. “I usually take her with me, but I had meetings today, so I left her home.”

  “It doesn’t look like she was near the fire,” I reply. “I’m sure sorry about this. Just let us know if you need anything.”

  He nods, and I step back to take Lexi’s hand. We stay for a few minutes more as Steve calls his brother and gets things as under control as he can, and then I lead Lexi back to my house.

  “That poor man,” she says quietly. “He just lost everything.”

  “Not everything. He still has Duchess and his family, who will be happy to let him stay with them while he rebuilds.”

  “Still, it’s scary.”

  “Look,” I say as we approach my house. I take a deep breath. The idea of going back to work now, returning to the bickering and being flat-out pissed at each other, appeals about as much as a root canal. “It’s Saturday. We shouldn’t be working today anyway. Let’s go into the city for a few hours. I’ll show you some stuff, and we can just enjoy the day.”

  “That actually sounds nice. But I smell like a campfire.”

  “Showers first. Then we play hooky.”

  “I’ve never seen so many flowers in one place in all my life,” Lexi says a couple of hours later as we walk through Pike’s Place Market. We just took her obligatory photo with the famous pig statue, and we’re eating piping-hot tiny donuts as we browse. She fusses over a specific bouquet, and without a second thought, I tug some cash from my pocket and buy it for her. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “If you’d seen the smile on your face when you smelled them, you’d disagree. Enjoy.”

  She buries her nose in a bloom, and we continue walking. It’s Saturday, so the market is busy, full of tourists and locals alike, people stocking up on produce for the week or just out and about for the day.

  Lexi’s eyes are huge as she takes it all in, seeming to commit everything to memory.

  Most likely storing it all away to include in a book later.

  “I’ll buy some crab for dinner,” I say as we approach a seafood vendor. “The food here is fresh and delicious. Do you like crab?”

  She nods with a smile, and I turn to the vendor and choose two good-sized Dungeness crabs to take home.

  By the time we exit out the other side of the market, we’re loaded down with bags, flowers, and a box of crabs, packed on ice.

  “That was a successful shopping trip,” I say with a smile. I notice Lexi’s stopped at an art vendor, admiring a painting of the coastline. It’s done in gray and blue, and the waves are moody against the sand.

  “I’d like to buy this,” she says to the man. “Are you able to ship it?”

  “Absolutely,” he replies with a smile. I wait as Lexi finishes the transaction and arranges for the painting to be shipped to her home in Minneapolis.

  As we walk away, I say, “You have good taste. That is beautiful.”

  “It’ll always remind me of my time here,” she says. “I’ll hang it in my office. I have a story brewing that takes place on your island, and I’ll stare at that piece as I plot. It’s perfect.”

  I want to ask more. I want to help her brainstorm her plotline and read it as she writes.

  I have no right to ask for any of that so I just nod and gesture to the shop across the street that has a line out the door.

  “That’s the first Starbucks café,” I inform her. “It’s always packed, but we can go get something if you’d like. You can say you’ve been to the original place that started it all.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “It’s very…peopley over there.”

  “Yeah.” I chuckle, and if my hands were free, I’d tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Is that a no, then?”

  “I can get Starbucks anywhere. I’m not fighting that crowd for it. But thanks anyway.”

  I nod, and we walk in comfortable silence back to the SUV.

  “Are you going to work at the pub again this evening?” she asks.

  “I am, yes. You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want.”

  She stands by as I load the car with our market finds. “I don’t mind. If you don’t.”

  I raise a brow. “You really want to spend another evening at the pub so soon?”

  “I liked it,” she says. “I know, it surprises me too because I like quiet, and I enjoy being alone. I get neither of those things at the pub, but I like your family, and watching you in the kitchen was fun. I could even be your sous chef, if you’d like. Unless you’d rather I get out from under your feet and leave you be for the night, which I totally understand.”

  “You’re welcome at O’Callaghan’s anytime, Lexi. Of course, I’d like you to come.”

  She smiles. “Okay. I’ll come then.”

  Her arms are still full of flowers. She held them back when I offered to lay them on the back seat. Her eyes look almost violet as she grins up at me.

  “Is there anywhere else you’d like to go or see?” I ask.

  “I think we can head back to the island, if it’s all the same to you,” she replies. “I’d like to get these into some water, and maybe read for an hour or so before we go to the pub.”

  I nod and open her door for her. “Your wish is my command, my lady.”

  She wrinkles her nose and sits in the car. Before long, I’ve pulled the SUV onto the ferry, and Lexi and I are standing on the deck. I even talked her into leaving the flowers in the backseat, assuring her that they would be safe in the shade.

  She takes a deep breath. I know the ferry makes her nervous, and I’m just relieved that she didn’t ask me to drive three hours out of the way to avoid it.

  Lexi’s hands grip the railing tightly, her knuckles turning white from the pressure.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Fine.” The answer is short and strained, and I know she’s not fine.

  I instinctively reach out and rub circles on her back, and she relaxes at my touch just a bit, but her grip on the railing doesn’t loosen.

  “What do you enjoy doing?” I ask, trying to make conversation.

  “I write. That’s about it.”

  “You have literally no other hobbies?”

  “I read,” she say
s. “I take walks. In the summer, I like to ride my bike.”

  “That’s a hobby. Some people are voracious about cycling.”

  She shrugs a shoulder. “I wouldn’t say I’m that. But I prefer it to driving in the summer. We get a lot of snow in Minneapolis, so I like to get fresh air the rest of the year. And riding around Lake Harriet is beautiful.”

  “Not a snow person, huh?”

  “I know, it’s weird, right? I like the cold, but I hate the snow. I’m an odd duck, Shawn.”

  I frown and nudge her sideways to face me.

  “You’re not odd at all.”

  She laughs, sending shivers through me. “Yeah, I am. But it’s okay, I accepted it a long time ago. I figure it’s the artist thing.”

  We hit a spot of choppy water, and she bites her lip.

  “I’m sorry the ferry scares you.”

  “We’re almost there, right?”

  I don’t have the heart to tell her that we’re only halfway into our journey. I brush a lock of hair off her cheek and let my fingers linger on her jawline.

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Lexi.”

  She blinks rapidly, and before she can reply, I lean in and cover her lips with mine. I’ve been dying to kiss her pouty lips for days. The light brush I intended quickly turns into something much more when she grips onto the sides of my shirt and leans into me, our bodies pressed together from hips to chest. I’m always in a constant state of low-grade arousal around this woman. Even her temper turns me on. But against me like this, with our mouths tangled, it turns to full-on arousal in two-point-six seconds.

  She purrs low in her throat, and I accept the invitation, sinking into her. My hands dive into her soft hair, and I nibble the side of her mouth.

  “Delicious,” I whisper before plundering her once more. I don’t give a fuck that we’re surrounded by people. Now that I’ve tasted her, I don’t know that I can ever stop.

  But she plants her hand on my chest and takes a small step back, and I reluctantly let her go.

  “Well, then,” she says before she swallows hard and stares out at the water. “I wondered what that would be like.”

  “Me, too.” I blow out a breath and grip the railing before I pull her back to me.