Flirting with Forever

by Jennifer Bernard

  He opened his mouth, then closed it again. She could practically see the wheels spinning in that overly brainy head of his. Cars don’t have emotions. Don’t anthropomorphize a mechanical object. You’re a dumbbell.

  Luckily, he didn’t say any of that out loud. “Recovery is sometimes the most difficult part of a major surgery,” he said as she beckoned him toward the passenger seat.

  Delighted, she beamed at him over the roof of the car. “There’s hope for you yet, Dr. Ian Finnegan. Come on, hop in.”

  Inside her car, he tugged at the seat belt, which always got caught in its tracks. Most people tended to yank at it, but he didn’t. He took the time to assess the problem, then carefully maneuver the strap out of its pinch point.

  Maybe all that surgical training was good for something.

  “Where are we going?” he asked when they were underway, cruising down the slushy main street of the old downtown. Familiar cedar-shingled storefronts slid past, most with their holiday lights still in place. Even though the days were lasting longer as they neared the March equinox, it still felt like the ragged end of winter. This was the time of year when a lot of Lost Harborites scheduled vacations to warm places because the winter dragged on, and on, and on.

  She never had, because Gramps hadn’t believed in vacations. Alaska was good enough for him, he always said. And it oughta be good enough for his offspring.

  “My grandfather’s homestead.”

  She could feel his dark gaze on her. “Yatesville?”

  “You remember.”

  “I have a relentlessly good memory. It has a decommissioned lighthouse where you had slumber parties.”

  “Among other things. Who knows what’s still standing at this point.”

  “You don’t know? Are you saying you haven’t gone out there before now?”

  “That’s what I’m saying, and believe me, I’ve already been lectured about it.” She braced herself for another round of “what’s wrong with you, Chrissie Yates?”

  “No lecture,” Ian said. “But I got the sense you were eager to be in and out of Lost Harbor as quickly as possible.”

  “I was. I am.” But was she? Being back in Lost Harbor was so much better than she’d imagined. Seeing her old friends, soaking in all the magnificent natural beauty, playing with Shuri on the beach…every day she relaxed a little more. Even finally running into Tristan had been fun, in a “wow, he’s like a long-lost brother now” kind of way.

  But Lost Harbor was one thing; Yatesville was another.

  “I’ve thought about going back every day. But I always find an excuse not to. I’m just being my usual hot-mess self, I guess.”

  She gave a laughing shrug, but he didn’t smile at her attempt to be self-deprecating. “There’s no rush, I assume.”

  “Not really. My friends offered to go with me. Even the police chief offered. She’s a friend,” she explained. “But you’re the lucky winner.”

  “Why?”

  She liked his direct approach. “Because there’s one thing you have that they don’t.”

  “A medical degree? A mental block about flirting?”

  She laughed a little, assuming that he was joking. But when she glanced over at him, she realized that maybe he wasn’t. It could be hard to tell with him. He was very deadpan.

  “That was a joke,” he assured her.

  “Good one. Nice. No, I’m talking about emotional distance. You’ve never seen the place before. It doesn’t have any memories for you. I was born on that property. Literally, because my grandfather insisted on doing everything for ourselves, even birthing babies. He believed a water birth was the healthiest, so I was basically born in a hot tub. I still love hot tubs,” she added thoughtfully.

  “I’ve never been in a hot tub.”

  “Really?” She swung her gaze toward him, but he gestured for her to watch the road instead. “Well, we might still have my birth tub around somewhere.” At his expression of alarm, she laughed. “I’m joking. But seriously, how can you live in Alaska and never been in a hot tub?”

  “I was invited once, but I declined. My instincts were correct, by the way. The woman who invited me turned out to be a stalker who drove all the way to Lost Harbor to attack Gretel. She was the mother of one of my patients.”

  “Why Gretel?”

  A bit of color appeared in his cheeks. “She was misguided. Gretel and I were never together. She’s just a friend.”

  “For a man who wants help with flirting, you sure have some interesting history with the opposite sex.”

  He gave a low chuckle. “I don’t want interesting. I want a partner. I want someone who will make my life more fulfilling, and vice versa.”

  She wondered what exactly he envisioned that “fulfilling life” to be like. A wife to put dinner on the table for him after a long shift? Someone to give him neck rubs after surgery? Or was it more of a two-way street?

  Doctors could be arrogant, especially surgeons. Gramps had despised the entire medical profession. He refused to get so much as a flu shot. When she was a baby, her mother had secretly gotten her vaccinated for the mumps and the measles, and he’d been furious when he found out.

  Was her opinion of doctors because of her grandfather’s views? Or was it because of the cardiologist she’d dated in San Diego, the one who was late for every single date and never apologized?

  Ian didn’t seem arrogant, exactly. An arrogant man wouldn’t have admitted his need for help in the art of flirting. He’d really opened himself up to her in that conversation; it made her like him even more.

  They were now climbing up the bluff road. Gusts of wind were buffeting poor Prince Valiant’s sides. The sweeping panorama of Misty Bay grew more expansive the higher they got. More of the majestic Lost Souls Wilderness mountains came into view; it felt as if they were headed to the top of the world. She’d always loved this part of the drive. After they crested the ridge, they’d hurtle back down into Yates territory.

  “How far out of town is your place?” Ian asked.

  “Just a few more miles. It’s on the other side of this ridge. My grandfather came here fifty years ago and bought a chunk of land when they were practically giving it away. They were trying to lure families to settle here. But he didn’t want the regular homestead lots they were selling. Oh, no. Not Ohlson Yates. He negotiated with one of the original settlers for their acreage. A hundred and fifty-six acres in all. Most of it is unworkable land, too steep, too forested, too many ravines. The first thing he built was a sawmill. Then he built a cabin, while my grandmother started having babies. They had three kids in that first tiny little cabin.”

  “Intrepid.”

  “Oh yes. The early settlers around here were tough mother-effers. They had to be, or they’d either freeze to death or starve or get mauled by a bear. Some of them did. But my grandparents hung in there. Well, my grandma died pretty young. I never even met her. My mom was nine by then.”

  She realized that she was rambling. Talking about her family could be like that. Once she started, it was like telling a story—one that had nothing to do with her. She didn’t live here anymore. This wasn’t her life. Her life was elsewhere. Anywhere else but here.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go on about ancient history like that.” She gave him a nervous smile.

  “It’s interesting.” He sounded as if he meant it. “Very different from my family.”

  “That’s not at all surprising, since we’re different from most families. Where did you grow up? Wait, let me guess.” She cast a glance his way, appreciating his well-defined profile and dense thicket of black hair. He sure was easy on the eyes. But he didn’t seem at all vain about it, or even necessarily aware that he was what could be described as a “hottie.”

  “You grew up in or near a city. You graduated at the top of your class in high school. You got teased because of your glasses and your grades. You’re the pride of the family now that you’re a neurosurgeon.” She smiled as she painted the
picture in her mind. “Their only regret is that you work so much and haven’t found the perfect wife and produced any baby neurosurgeons yet.”

  “Mostly wrong.” He ticked off the points one by one. “I grew up in Nebraska. My family runs a cattle ranch. I wasn’t top of my class, but close enough. There was some teasing at school. To my family, I’m a bit of a freak. Neurosurgery scares them. They tell their friends I’m a knee doctor. That makes more sense to them.”

  She detected hurt in his voice, but very distant, as if he’d long ago stopped expecting acceptance from his family. “I’m sorry. That sounds kind of unfair.”

  He gave a shrug. “I was always an oddball when I was growing up. I’m used to it.”

  “Well, at least you were a good-looking oddball,” she said lightly. “That must have helped, right? Did the girls appreciate you, at least?”

  “Not until later.”

  “Later?” Curious, she looked over at him as she took the curve downhill toward the Yates road. “Why later?”

  “You’re very good at asking questions, aren’t you?”

  “I am. Let that be flirting lesson number one. The more you can express interest in what someone has to say, the more they’ll warm up to you.”

  He cocked his head thoughtfully. “You’re right. I do seem to be warming up to you.” The sidelong glance he slid her way was filled with mischief.

  Sweet Jesus…the man caught on quick.

  “Nice,” she told him. “Most flirtatious, much improvement. But I still want to know why you said ‘later.’ That’s okay, if it’s too personal of a question, you don’t have to answer. I’ve been told I can be kind of nosy.”

  “Nosy. That happens to be an interesting choice of words.”

  “How so?”

  “It’s ancient history too, as you say. But maybe it’ll help explain why I’m flirt-impaired.”

  “Flirt-improving,” she corrected.

  “I’ll take your word for it.” He touched the bridge of his nose. “When I was in fifth grade another boy broke my nose during recess. It never healed right and looked terrible. My parents couldn’t afford to get it fixed, and I just got used to it. Then in medical school I volunteered to let a plastic surgery student practice on me. All of a sudden, overnight, I became…what I am now.”

  “A hottie.”

  “Less unattractive.”

  “A snack,” she corrected.

  “A snack?”

  “Oh yes. Well, at least now I understand why you aren’t as full of yourself as a hot doctor deserves to be.”

  “Excuse me, a hot doctor?”

  She shook her head, mystified. “You must know that you’re probably catnip to some women.”

  “See, that’s the problem. I have a difficult time interpreting signals. I tend to be more focused on whatever problem I’m working on in my head than in what’s going on outside my head.”

  She found his rueful smile incredibly endearing, much more so than the smooth talkers she’d encountered in her life. There was something very straightforward about Ian.

  “You know what I like about you, Ian?”

  He seemed almost surprised by that question. “There’s something you like about me?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course there is, or I wouldn’t let you near Prince Valiant. You’re honest with yourself. You aren’t hiding stuff away, hoping no one will notice until it’s too late.”

  “What kind of ‘stuff’ are you referring to?”

  “Well, like my ex. He had…addiction problems.”

  “Oh.” He winced sympathetically. “That’s tough. Drugs? Gambling?”

  “No, he was addicted to hooking up with women and emptying out their bank accounts,” she said dryly. “He knew about the spray cheese connection and assumed that I was wealthy. Boy, was he disappointed. Now I’m a goddamn heiress. Ironic, really.” She turned down the long gravel drive that cut through the Yates acreage and ended at the original homestead. With a sweep of her hand, she gestured at the dense stands of ancient spruce and hemlock. “All this could have been his.”

  They bumped across frozen ruts of ice and gravel. Ian ignored her joking tone and said, “I’m sorry about your ex. He sounds like a foolish person.”

  His grave tone made her uncomfortable. “You don’t have to worry. I’m over it. I was young and naive. No harm done.”

  He didn’t respond to that, and in the ensuing silence, she realized how untrue those words were. Harm had been done. Dustin had decimated her young vulnerable twenty-two-year-old heart. She’d been crushed by his betrayal, especially after…

  She shied away from that memory, the most painful one of all.

  It had taught her an important lesson, after all. Don’t trust people so easily, especially men. Since then, she’d only allowed herself to get involved in fun, casual relationships. None of them had lasted longer than a year and she was perfectly happy with that. No pain, no regrets.

  The first outbuilding appeared, a canvas-covered yurt deep in the forest. “That was my grandfather’s woodworking shop. He used to make signs for people’s shops and so forth. You’ve probably seen his work around town.”

  “I don’t pay much attention to that sort of thing. When I’m in Lost Harbor most of my time is spent at the hospital.” The stiff, somewhat awkward Ian was back. She wondered if that was her fault, because she’d laughed away his offer of sympathy.

  “You should try to get out more. At heart, flirting is just another way to connect with people. You can start simple. Maybe I should set you up with some challenges.”

  “What kind of challenges?”

  “Hmm. Lost Harbor challenges. Like, buy a round for the fishermen at the Olde Salt.”

  “That doesn’t sound very difficult.”

  “Something more advanced, then. You should put yourself up for auction at the Volunteer Fire Department Bachelor Auction.”

  “The what? Absolutely not.”

  “After that you can strip down for the Men of Alaska calendar,” she continued, ignoring his objections.

  He gripped the door handle, as if he was about to throw himself out of Prince Valiant.

  She laughed as they bumped over the rutted ice of the Yatesville road. “You really are fun to tease. I hope this woman you’re trying to impress appreciates that.”

  And then she rounded the last bend and there was the house where she’d spent the first seventeen years of her life. All the breath went out of her.

  Nine

  One minute, Chrissie had been teasing the living daylights out of him, the next she went dead silent. The car slowed to a crawl as they crept closer to the two-story house that squatted in the midst of a collection of smaller structures. He spotted cabins with boarded-up windows, a tattered Army tent, multiple sheds of various shapes and sizes. Nothing seemed to be completely finished; everything was missing siding or a roof or trim or paint.

  It was as if a giant kept getting new toys and discarding the old ones.

  A rusty tractor, a mini-backhoe, and what looked like a cement truck were parked at the rear of the house—perhaps in an imaginary future garage. If there was a drivable car or truck around, he couldn’t see it.

  The house itself was just as unfinished as everything else. It had no more than patchwork siding, with exposed Tyvek fluttering in the wind. Its wraparound deck was cluttered with pieces of machinery that Ian couldn’t possibly identify. A tattered pirate flag in a flagpole near the front door gave the place a rebellious flair.

  Chrissie brought the car to a stop and folded her arms on the steering wheel, staring at the black flag. Her sunshiny hair tumbled down her back as she rested her chin on her arms.

  “See that flag? That’s the official flag of Yatesville. I know it looks like the pirate has horns, but it’s actually a Y. I mentioned that Ohlson tried to secede from Alaska, right?”

  “You did, but I wasn’t sure how serious that was.”

  “Oh, he was serious, all right. He never li
ked rules. He wanted to start his own little territory of one. It would have been two, but I refused to be his only citizen. Then he tried to recruit our woofers. Willing workers on organic farms,” she explained. “College kids from the Lower Forty-eight looking for adventure. With Gramps, they got more than they ever imagined. He offered them all citizenship in Yatesville. Luckily, they all had more sense than that.”

  “Yatesville was the official name?”

  “That was one of the names. Another was the United Yates of America. Land of Yates. My favorite was Isle of Yates, because it sounds like ‘I love Yates.’ He never quite settled on one. You know, it’s quite possible that the IRS will just take this property because he stopped paying his taxes. I should check into that.”

  She didn’t make a move to get out of the car. The sight of her old home seemed to freeze her in place. Ian wasn’t quite sure what his role here was supposed to be. Should he nudge her into action? Offer silent support? Go inside the house and make sure it was safe?

  He cleared his throat. “Was that why you left? You didn’t want to be a Yatesville citizen?”

  “I left because he told me to. Yelled it, quite loudly. Then made sure it happened by calling my mother. I knew he was serious when he did that, because he didn’t like talking to her. I think she hurt his feelings when she left for a job as a flight attendant.”

  He wondered why she hadn’t left with her mother, but before he could ask, she answered the question herself.

  “I didn’t want to go with Mom because we were fighting a lot then, and I wanted to stay with my friends. And I didn’t want my Gramps to be alone. Silly me, since he kicked me out himself five years later.”

  Her light tone didn’t fool him this time.

  “Was he always like that?”

  “Like what? Don’t judge him. He was an eccentric old ornery guy who always did things his own way. Like a lot of people around here.”

  With that, she flung herself out of the car and stood shivering in the snow. She folded her arms across her chest and tugged the hood of her long sweater over her head.