Kelty will only be distracted for so long, and by the time she’s installed on the back seat, and I take Dad’s place behind the wheel and start driving, she repeats her question.
“Dad? What did that man want?”
“What man?” my father wants to know, and I throw him a look before focusing on my daughter in the rearview mirror.
“Did you know Mika was sometimes on TV before she came to us?”
“Grampa told me,” she says, nodding. “She was kinda famous.”
“Right. Well, that man was a reporter for a newspaper asking questions about Mika, but she came to Cape Cod for some quiet time.”
“Like Katy Perry hiding from the paparazzi?”
“Sort of.” I chuckle and glance at my father but he doesn’t look at all amused. “The guy was from the Telegraph. Approached me by name.” I talk softly to avoid my daughter overhearing. “Seen him hanging around the hospital the past few days, but this morning he was at the nurses’ station outside our room.”
“Short guy, dawk messy mop that shoulda seen a barbah months ago, and one a them silly little goatee things?”
“That would be him,” I confirm.
“Makes sense. Caught him in the lobby starin’ when you kissed Mika the othah day.”
Like a Jack-in-the-box, Kelty’s head darts between the seats.
“You kissed Mika?”
MIKA
I feel a little like the pied piper, with Nauset Beach’s gull population following me around as I poke through the clumps of seaweed left in the wake of the ebbing tide.
I’ve only seen one fellow beachcomber this morning; an older man with a friendly dog, who enthusiastically put his wet, sandy paws all over my khaki linen pants. I didn’t really care, glad for the unexpected affection, but the man had been mortified, insisting he pay for any dry-cleaning, which I refused.
The shimmer of something smooth catches my eye, and when I brush away the seaweed I see a beautiful piece of polished red glass. A rare color I know from my research, and one I don’t have yet.
I quickly wipe my hands on my pants—they’re dirty already—and lift my camera. I already know how I’m going to edit these shots, leaving the red of the glass intact, but draining the rest of the frame of color. I’ve done that with a few of the ones I found in the more common greens and blues, and the effect is quite stunning. If I group those images together, they’d make an interesting collection.
I’m building up a decent portfolio and these past few days, since the sale of the house was finalized, I’ve been seriously considering getting a bunch of them framed and maybe checking around if any place would be interested in displaying them. If anything, it could become a hobby that pays for itself.
When I’ve taken just about every composition I can think of, I carefully pick up the glass and brush the sand off. Looking at it in the palm of my hand, I notice its unique shape. It’s beautiful, and I carefully wrap it in one of my lens cloths and tuck it away in my camera bag.
I start walking back to where my car is parked; while behind me the gulls descend on the pile of seaweed I left behind, scouring for anything edible I might’ve left behind.
To my surprise, I find the old man and his dog I’d encountered earlier sitting on the bench by the parking lot.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he starts. “But I was sitting here, having a little break before taking Sadie here home to her babies, when I noticed you taking pictures. My name is Giles Taylor, by the way.” He holds out his hand, which I promptly shake.
“Mika Spencer.”
“Nice to meet you. I realize this will sound strange—and I’d insist on paying you—but I was wondering if I could ask you to take a picture.” My face must’ve shown my confusion because he quickly clarifies, “Of my dogs. Sadie here…” he distractedly scratches the golden retriever behind the ears, “…had a litter almost two months ago. Four of them. Unfortunately, it appears my girl has a taste for bad boys, because it’s clear their father is the ugly mutt from down the street she’s taken a shine too. Full breed puppies would go like hotcakes I’m told by the local shelter, but an advertisement with the description: mother full-bred golden, father unidentified neighborhood menace, apparently, doesn’t make for good copy. Even when I offer them for free.”
I chuckle at his description and crouch down to give slutty Sadie some loving. “So the picture…?”
“Ah, yes, the picture. I was hoping perhaps if people could see how cute they are, it might help make them more attractive. Sadly, I’m a bit of a Luddite, and don’t own a camera or a mobile phone, which is why I am hoping you might be able to assist me. For a fee, of course. I just live up the road.”
For a moment I contemplate the wisdom of what I’m about to do, but the man is at least eighty, if he is a day, and I could probably take him with my pinky finger if I had to.
I straighten up and sling my camera bag over my shoulder. “Then by all means, let’s go take some pictures of Sadie’s babies.”
I finally convince Giles that Sadie can’t do any harm in the back of the wagon and he gets in the passenger seat, directing me to a small, cottage-style house not that far up from the beach.
“Wait here,” he says when I follow him up on the porch, where Sadie is already scratching at the door. “I have a baby gate I use to block off the porch so they can’t get away.”
“Perfect. I prefer using outside light to take pictures.”
He sets up the little gate, disappears back inside, and comes walking out moments later with Sadie dancing around his feet, and carrying—two per arm—the most adorable puppies I’ve ever seen.
All four are multicolored with floppy ears and predominantly short hair, with occasional longer tufts sticking out from around their little faces. The moment he sets them on the ground, their little fat bodies toddle over and try to climb my legs. I sink down on my butt and let them clamber all over me, laughing as the little boy—the only one with blue eyes—tries to take off with one of my flip-flops.
“They are adorable,” I confirm to Giles, who’s taken a seat on the porch bench, wearing a benevolent smile.
“Yes. Must be Sadie’s superior genes,” he quips and I smile up at him.
I spend at least half an hour taking pictures while the puppies play, chatting with Giles the entire time. I know someone who would love meeting these little bundles of energy, and I ask if he would mind if I came back one day with a friend. I get the sense he doesn’t get visitors a lot, if the wide smile on his face is anything to go by as he quickly agrees.
I promise I’ll get the shots printed off and even offer to send a new ad with picture to the local newspaper.
“Young lady, I really appreciate your help,” Giles says, shaking my hand again when I get up, ready to head out. “But you must tell me what I owe you,” he insists.
I start to climb over the baby gate when the feisty little blue-eyed pup puts his teeth in the hem of my pants. I bend down and pick him up, holding him in front of my face as he frantically wiggles his little butt, trying to lick my nose.
“They’ll be old enough in a week or two, you say?”
“Ten weeks by then.”
I don’t really know what I’m doing, and I’m positive I’ve not thought this through at all, but something drives me to say, “Would you consider letting me adopt this little rascal?”
19
JUDE
God, it feels good to be home.
I notice the parking lot is pretty full when I pull into my driveway. Looks like we have a good crowd for lunch.
“Can we go say hi, Dad?” Kelty asks from the back seat as I turn off the engine.
“You heard the nurse, Princess, we have to be extra careful for a while longer and going into a busy restaurant may not be smart. How about you have a nap, and I’ll go ask everyone to pop in here to say hello if they have a chance?”
She doesn’t look thrilled, but she’s smart enough after these past few days not to push the
issue. She walks inside under her own steam, but I carry her upstairs to her room.
“Need anything, baby?”
She rolls on her side in bed, her eyes half closed. “Is Mika your girlfriend?” she mumbles.
“What if I said she was, how would you feel about that?”
Even with her eyelids drifting shut she manages to smile wide, giving me a thumbs-up.
Dad’s downstairs on the couch, with his feet on the coffee table, arms crossed over his chest, his head back, and eyes closed. A good time for me to slip out and check in at the Cooker.
Mandy comes charging from the behind the bar when I walk in and throws herself in my arms, startling not only me, but also some of the lunch crowd eating inside.
“So glad you guys are home,” she mumbles before taking a step back and self-consciously brushing at the wrinkles in my shirt.
A young guy, maybe early twenties, comes out of the kitchen carrying a large tray of food. “Who’s that?” I ask Mandy under my breath.
“Nick. He started yesterday.” When I look at her with my eyebrows raised, she puts her hands on her hips. “It’s been crazy busy, and with the weekend coming up, I needed extra hands. Figured it couldn’t hurt.”
“At least he looks like he knows what he’s doing,” I comment, watching as he serves a table of six on the patio. “Where’s Mika?” I haven’t seen her yet.
Mandy grins and tilts her head in the direction of my office. “She’s on the phone trying to figure out where our booze is. They missed our delivery yesterday.”
I’m about to head in there when the door opens and an annoyed-looking Mika walks out. She stops when she sees me and a smile breaks through.
“Five minutes, Mandy,” I tell her, already moving down the hall.
Mandy’s lazy, “Sure,” and subsequent chuckle disappear when I back Mika into the office and kick the door shut.
“I have to check on my tables,” she protests without much conviction, as I tug her close. Her arms slip around my neck and then we’re kissing.
Kissing like we’re starved, like it’s been months instead of a couple of days. The sweet tang of her mouth tastes like wild ocean and fresh mint. The soft curves under my hands and pressed against my body feel like home.
“God, I missed you,” I mumble, as I lift my mouth from hers.
Her blue eyes sparkle with a smile as she looks up at me. “Yeah.” Then her hand lifts to my cheek and she brushes a thumb under my eye. “You look tired.”
“You would be too if you had to share a hotel bed with my father.” She chuckles at my pained expression.
“I’ll pass.”
“Don’t blame you. By the way, Kelty knows,” I share, changing topics. “She overheard Dad and me talking on the way here.” I see a flash of concern in her eyes and quickly clarify, “You and me, she likes it.”
She blows out a relieved breath I can feel against my face, just a fraction away from hers. “How is she doing?”
“Napping. So is Dad.”
“Happy to be home?”
“Not as happy as I am,” I confess, tightening my hold on her just as the door swings open, and the new guy sticks his head in.
“Oh, sorry,” he apologizes, but his eyes take us in with more curiosity than I’m comfortable with before he focuses on Mika. “Want me to serve table twenty-one? Food is ready.”
“I’ll be right out. Thanks, Nick.”
“I don’t know if I like that guy,” I mumble when he shuts the door again, making her snicker.
“He’s a nice guy and barely out of diapers,” she says, lifting up to press her lips against mine. “I better get out there or you’re gonna get me fired.”
“I might have to do it myself if I want any time with you.”
“Don’t you dare,” she threatens, punching my shoulder. “I like working here, and love the job benefits,” she teases, lifting up for another kiss before she slips from my hold.
“Mika,” I call her attention when she opens the door and wait for her to turn around. “I’ll be waiting for you when you get off.”
The flash of heat in her eyes matches the one I feel. I may not get a whole lot of sleep tonight either.
I sit down at my desk and look over the new schedule Mandy’s left there. Maybe I shouldn’t complain too much about her recent hire, since it looks like it leaves Mika with a little more free time. Time I wouldn’t mind spending with her.
The next hour I spend calling in the orders for the weekend I’d asked Mandy to leave on my desk. It feels good to be doing something productive, instead of hanging around the hospital.
Hanging around the hospital.
Shit. I have to remember to tell Mika about the Telegraph reporter seeking me out. I don’t want her to be blindsided like I was if he shows up.
We should probably discuss whether or not Kelty should know where her heart came from. I’d prefer she didn’t—it seems like a little too much responsibility on her little shoulders—but with the press already sniffing around, I also don’t want to risk her finding out from anyone other than us.
I’m going to have to talk to Cassie and Mark too. Get their take on it.
Folding my arms behind my head, I lean back in my chair and let my gaze drift when something catches my eye. On the wall above the filing cabinet, where an old calendar hung well beyond its years, now hangs a large black and white print.
My daughter’s smiling face, larger than life, with eyes so clear, I can see the reflection of the ocean in them.
MIKA
“You and the boss an item?”
I’m rolling cutlery in the linen napkins for tomorrow, while Nick tops up the condiments.
“What does it look like?” I deflect, a little annoyed at the forward question.
Don’t get me wrong, he seems like an overall nice guy. He’s charming, has an easy way about him, and seems to fit in seamlessly, but I’ve known him for all of twenty-four hours. Not really at the point where we share details of our personal lives, if ever there would be such a time.
Nick shrugs, letting my sharp tone slide off his back like water. “Looks like the boss is one lucky man.”
“Puleeze,” I drawl mockingly. “I’m old enough to be your mother.”
“Doubtful,” he returns. “I’m twenty-seven.” He looks like he barely celebrated his twenty-first birthday. “Besides,” he continues, “you can’t fault a guy trying for the hot chick who knows the difference between a linebacker and a safety.”
My hand freezes midair. It’s suddenly clear from the football reference, he knows who I am. My eyes squint as I look up at him. “You’re from Boston.”
“Quincy. Boston Sports News was one of the few presets on our TV growing up.”
Ouch. Probably without realizing it, he’s just aged me. I had a good twelve years in as a sports journalist with BSN before I left early last year.
“Another lifetime,” I share before grabbing the bin of cutlery I’ve been filling, carrying it to the serving station. “Mandy,” I call down the hall where I can see her sitting at Jude’s desk, going over the receipts for the day. “I’m out of here.”
“Four tomorrow,” she calls back.
I duck my head in the kitchen, where Daniel is doing some prep work for tomorrow. “Night, Daniel.”
“Night, girl.”
“See ya, Nick,” I say on my way out of the restaurant.
“Later, Mika.”
The cottage is dark. I forgot to turn on the porch light again. I barely have the door open when I’m suddenly lifted off my feet from behind and pushed inside. The panic only lasts for the second it takes me to recognize Jude’s scent, and no sooner than it takes him to kick the door shut, I turn in his arms and climb him like a tree.
“Fucking longest eight hours of my life,” he growls, his hands cupping my ass as his mouth slams down on mine.
Spontaneous combustion has hands ripping at clothes, and I’m barely aware of being carried through the cottage to
the bedroom. The moment my feet touch the floor, I’m tugging down my jeans and panties at once. In the span of a few seconds, we’re both buck naked, panting hard as we stare at each other by just the light from the parking lot filtering in through the window.
I don’t need light to see the hot desire shimmering in his eyes, or the need that has his cock hard and pulsing.
“Mika…” he groans when I sink to my knees in front of him, curling my hand around the silk steel of his erection. I softly blow on the crown, feeling him jerk in my hand, before sliding my lips around his girth.
There is something so powerful about feeling his body’s involuntary response to my touch. This need building in him as his hand slips around the back of my head, fingers tightening in my hair, is feeding my own. I let the taste of him imprint itself on my senses as I work his length, trying to take in as much as I can. When I slip a hand around his heavy sac, tugging slightly as I extend a finger to rub his taint, he hisses sharply.
“Babe, you do that I’m gonna blow and I want to be inside you when I do.” He grabs me under my arms, ignoring my sounds of protest, and pulls me to my feet. “That felt way too good,” he mumbles, pressing his lips to mine as he backs up to the bed, falling back and pulling me down with him. “If I didn’t feel like I need to be inside you now,” he says through grinding teeth as he moves my legs so I’m braced with a knee on either side of his hips. “I’d love to let you explore every fucking inch of my body, and I’d do the same to you.” His hands are on my hips, rocking me along his hard length. “Fuck, you’re so wet. Feel what you do to me?” His hips flex up, grinding his cock against my clit, and I moan as my head falls back. “Beautiful. You’re so goddamn beautiful it hurts.” He surges upright, taking me with him, and buries his face between my breasts. “Jesus, you smell good. Let me inside, baby.”
His breath is choppy as I lift my hips under his firm guidance and slide myself slowly down on his cock.
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