Flirting with Forever

by Jennifer Bernard

  Shuri got up from the corner and came over to her. She settled next to her leg, her chin on Chrissie’s thigh, and peered up at Chrissie. “Sorry, girl. I’m talking to my gramps right now. Telling him about the time I sold bottled water. I made some pretty good cash. Know what I did with it?”

  She’d taken it to the only doctor she’d known.

  “I asked Dr. Shine to check on Gramps, Shuri. That’s how worried I was. I actually went to a doctor. He refused. He said he didn’t want to be chased off with a two-by-four again.”

  She took another sip and for a moment thought she heard her grandfather’s howl of a laugh.

  But it was just the wind picking up. The storm was coming fast and hard.

  And suddenly, she didn’t want to be here alone. She wanted someone to cuddle with as the wind and snow rolled in off the ocean. She wanted someone else to help chase the ghosts away. She wanted someone to laugh with, someone she could really talk to.

  She wanted Ian.

  Thirty-One

  The first flurries of wet snow were already slanting from the deep-slate sky when Ian arrived at Yatesville. As soon as he pulled up, Chrissie emerged from the door and ran to his side. She carried a black contractor’s garbage bag so bulky, it took both arms. A headlamp dangled from one of her hands. She handed it to him.

  “So you can see through the storm,” she told him. “It’s getting dark fast.”

  “What are we doing?”

  “We’re getting front-row seats to the last winter storm of the year.” Who could resist the call to adventure in her smile? He put on the headlamp, which was like a primitive younger brother of the fiber-optic headlight he used during surgery.

  “Can you carry this bag to the lighthouse? I have another load to grab. I’ll be right behind you.” She thrust the garbage bag at him and disappeared back inside the house.

  He faced into the wind and snow, which stung his face with icy prickles. Adjusting his grip on the garbage bag, he shouldered into the storm. The wind had whipped the snow that already covered the ground into sharply curving dunes. He felt as if he were trudging through the tundra on a mission to discover new territory.

  Hell, maybe he was. Everything with Chrissie felt new. The last thing he’d expected when she’d called was that he’d be carrying a garbage bag through a snowstorm into an abandoned lighthouse.

  He should know by now to expect the unexpected when it came to Chrissie.

  When he reached the lighthouse, he had to put down the garbage bag and use both hands to muscle open the door. The wind howled so fiercely, he could barely hear Chrissie shouting at him from behind.

  Then he looked down and saw that the garbage bag was about to fly off the steps and tumble onto the rocks, as if it contained nothing more than air or feathers. He grabbed it just in time and tossed it through the door, which he held open with one boot.

  Chrissie, carrying another garbage bag, charged the last few steps through the blowing snow. He held the door open for her. The wind at his back felt like a physical entity, as if he could fall backwards and still remain standing.

  After she’d dumped her bag on the floor, Chrissie reached a hand toward him and pulled him inside. The door thumped closed. The wind whined like a baby just deprived of its prize.

  The interior of the lighthouse was dark except for the crisscrossing beams of their headlamps. Chrissie found the light switch, but it had no effect.

  “Power’s out. No surprise. That’s okay, there’s a hurricane lamp somewhere around here.”

  She aimed her head lamp around the room, then hurried across to a wooden crate that must serve as a storage cabinet. From inside it, she retrieved several glass lanterns, then set them on top of the crate. She pulled a lighter from her pocket and lit them, one by one, handing each to Ian when she was done.

  He set them on the only surface available, the floor, choosing opposite corners in the angled space. Chrissie hung the last one from a wrought-iron hook embedded in one wall. It swayed back and forth, sending shadows sweeping across the floor.

  Chrissie steadied it and grinned at him. “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  “Thanks for coming. I wasn’t sure you would, there being a storm and all.”

  “Don’t you mean because I’m not known for my spontaneity?” he asked dryly.

  “I don’t know about that. So far, you’ve risen to the occasion every single time.” She came toward him and tilted her head for a kiss. He obliged, since he’d been longing to do exactly that ever since she’d handed him the headlamp.

  Which bonked against hers before their lips could even meet.

  He tore his off his headlamp, while she laughed and did the same, then they dove back into their kiss. It reached deep into his soul and made his heart race with a wild thrill. Snow and sleet hissed against the lighthouse windows, but the structure itself didn’t so much as tremble. Solid as the rocks it was built on.

  “I thought you wanted to spend your first night at Yatesville alone,” he murmured when their kiss drew to an end.

  “I did at first. But then I started thinking about how fun it would be if you were here to watch the storm with me. I have everything we need. Blankets, pillows, an air mattress that probably leaks, some snacks, even a thermos of hot chocolate with an expiration date of four years ago. Hot chocolate doesn’t go bad, does it?”

  She kneeled down and opened the first garbage bag and handed him items, one by one, until his arms were full of blankets that smelled of cedar.

  “Here’s the air mattress. Self-inflating. Just give me a second.”

  He watched as she very capably set it up and opened the valve that would let in the air. It was a queen-size air mattress with a plush covering.

  “We might get a few hours of use from it before it leaks too much air,” Chrissie said cheerfully as she straightened up.

  He cocked his head at her. “You’re in a good mood.”

  “Storms always do that to me. I love all the energy rushing through the air. Isn’t it exhilarating?”

  “I’ve never given much thought to it. But now that you mention it, yes.” He smiled at her flushed face and shining eyes. “Storms suit you.”

  He wondered if the emotion tightening his chest showed on his face. She took his breath away. She was like the wind and the lightning. What did that make him? The rocks?

  She smiled and crouched next to the second garbage bag. From this one, she withdrew a vintage stainless steel thermos and a stream of snacks: Ritz crackers, Nutter Butter cookies, Pringles, banana chips, a jar of pickles.

  “Interesting menu,” he observed. “Are you reliving your adolescence?”

  “You nailed it. I figured since I was taking this trip down memory lane it might as well be historically accurate. You’re looking at all my favorite foods from the age of twelve through sixteen. I hope you’ve already eaten,” she added with a smile. “I didn’t promise you nutrition, just calories.”

  “I did, but this all looks good to me. Perfect storm-watching menu.”

  “I thought so.” She beamed at him and pulled out a tablecloth that she spread on the floor next to the air mattress. He helped her set everything out and tear open the packages. “Dinner prep, done!”

  “Efficient.”

  “Yes. And no dishes. My kind of meal.”

  She popped a Ritz cracker into her mouth, then offered a handful to him. They munched crackers in happy silence—except for the buffeting of the wind on the windows and the slow hiss of the air mattress inflating.

  “I’m glad I’m not on call tonight,” she said.

  “Isn’t it too dangerous to fly a helicopter in all this?” He gestured at the storm outside the lighthouse windows.

  “Probably. It’s always harder to fly at night. With these conditions, the hospital probably wouldn’t even call for an air ambulance. Everyone better stay home and not have any emergencies. Have you heard anything from the Desperado?”

  “No, but I checked the r
adar. Out there, they’ll just get some high surf.”

  She gave him a cheeky grin. “Look at you, getting all marine forecast-y.”

  “No one told me how much I’d worry about Bo now that he’s in my care. Elinor warned me about everything else, but not that.”

  An odd expression rippled across her face. “Funny you should say that. Before you came over I was remembering some of my childhood here.” She paused while she screwed off the lid of the thermos. A sweet, chocolatey steam rose into the air. “I remembered that I was really worried about Gramps. That’s why I didn’t leave with my mother.”

  “Why were you worried about him?”

  She swallowed hard and put the thermos down without even taking a sip. “He was…driving people away. All the woofers left. My mother was the last of his children to stick around. He’d hole up here in the lighthouse, or in his woodworking yurt. He’d spend hours at the dump. At first I didn’t mind because I had so much freedom. That’s when I got together with Tris. I signed up for some high school classes, that sort of thing. But then he just got…even more strange. Talking about portals to other dimensions and government coverups and…then sometimes he didn’t seem to know who I was.”

  He watched tears gather in her eyes, but she blinked them away.

  “I was in over my head,” she said finally. “I tried to get a doctor to see him, but he refused. I even called the police to do a wellness check. They caught him at a lucid moment so that went nowhere. I was at the end of my rope. And then he kicked me out. And I was so hurt and furious I never looked back.”

  Ian set his hand on her knee. “Maybe that’s what he wanted.”

  “Of course that’s what he wanted. He wanted me gone so he could stew in his wild ideas without being bothered with human companionship.”

  “No. That’s not what I mean.”

  She lifted her eyebrows at him, and for a moment he thought she was going to make a joke about his awkward communication style. Instead, she said softly, “I’d love to hear what you think. You’ve been reading his journal. Maybe you understand him better than I ever did.”

  “His journal is mostly notes about his projects. And…instructions for accessing other dimensions,” he added.

  She wrapped her hands around the warm thermos. “Oh good, something to look forward to when I start going through them.”

  “Wait. Let me finish. Partway through I started reading it as a neurologist. Of course I can’t diagnose anyone without examining them, so take this with a grain of salt, but it’s pretty clear he had some form of dementia.”

  “Well yeah, that’s what I thought. That’s why I wanted a doctor to see him.”

  He caught the defensive tone in her voice. “Here’s my theory. He knew what was happening. He wanted to end his days the way he did, writing down all the things that came into his head. I think he didn’t want you to bear the burden.”

  Her eyes went brilliant with tears. “It wouldn’t have been a burden.”

  “He knew you’d think that,” he told her gravely. “He knew you well. He knew your loyalty. He knew how much you loved him. I believe he wanted to set you free.”

  Thirty-Two

  The wind interrupted him with a loud gust that rattled the windows like an invader raging to get in. The timing of it made them both jump.

  Chrissie wiped the tears off her face with the heel of her hand. “You’re saying he kicked me out to set me free?”

  “Possibly.”

  “I always thought he did it because I wasn’t good enough for Yatesville anymore. I was a big disappointment.”

  “I don’t think so.” His steady certainty felt like a lifeline.

  “And then he left me all of this to suck me back in?”

  “To do whatever you want,” he corrected. “He’s clear about that.”

  Chrissie wiped away another tear. The hurricane lantern trembled in a gust that snuck in through a window crack. The shadows it cast looked almost alive.

  “Okay, you’ve now witnessed me having multiple emotional meltdowns,” she said. “I swear I’m not usually like this.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “You don’t have to say that. I get it. I’m a mess, as usual. Thanks for telling me your theory. It helps to think that maybe he banished me out of love. That helps a lot. I have to think about that some more.” Chrissie gazed wistfully around the space. “But I wish I knew what to do next. It would be a lot easier to think about selling Yatesville if not for this lighthouse. And the house. And even the greenhouse, and the—”

  He laughed as she threw up her hands in comical frustration. “Maybe you don’t want to sell it at all.”

  “Yes. No. Sometimes I want to get it done as quick as possible. Sometimes I get nostalgic. Sometimes I’m bursting with ideas about it. Then I kick myself for being a fool.” She sighed and rested her elbows back on the fully inflated air mattress. “I’m usually pretty good at making decisions. I make a lot of bad ones, but at least I make them.”

  He knew that self-deprecating tone; he still didn’t like it. “What ideas have you had?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can’t afford any of them. I don’t have any savings. I’ve been rebuilding ever since Dustin fucked me over. My Mediguard pay helps but it’s not enough for everything this place needs.” She laughed a little. “I’d probably be better off if the wind just blew it all down. It turns out Gramps actually did pay for insurance, so that’s something.”

  “But why do you have to do it all alone?” He took a Nutter Butter cookie from the plastic tray and bit into it.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe you could find some people here in Lost Harbor who’d be interested in partnering with you.”

  “Is that an offer?”

  He nearly choked on the crumbs of his cookie. “Um, no. Sorry if I misled—”

  She laughed and poked him in the shoulder. “Just teasing. Wow, you should see the look on your face. I know you have a brilliant career of your own and would have no interest in a random assortment of half-finished buildings.”

  “You’re wrong. I am interested. I find all this interesting.” He slid his glasses back up his nose and looked around at the angular room. “The lighthouse, the property, Lost Harbor, all of it. But mostly you. I find you interesting. Endlessly so. That’s why I’m very curious about these ideas you’ve had.”

  She eyed him cautiously, as if she wasn’t entirely sure she could trust him.

  “I won’t recruit anyone,” he assured her. “No more real estate agents showing up out of the blue.”

  “No, it’s not that. I trust you. But all of these ideas are just little flashes so far. Nothing’s fleshed out.”

  He leaned toward her, unable to stop himself, and touched her cheek with his thumb. “You had a crumb there,” he explained, his voice tighter than normal. “So you really do trust me?”

  She cocked her head, a soft smile playing across her lips. “I really do. And if you know anything about me, you probably know I don’t trust easily. So give yourself a pat on the back. Or the backside. Actually, I can do that part. It’s better naked, of course.”

  They smiled at each other in perfect understanding.

  He had no idea how or why his ordinary, workaholic life had brought him to this point. But it had. And he didn’t ever want to go back. He wanted her in his life forever.

  Something twisted in his heart, and truth stared him in the face, clearer than an MRI. He loved Chrissie. With all her mess and her chaos and her so-called flaws—he loved her.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked him, eyes wide with questions. “You haven’t even heard my ideas yet and you already look worried.”

  The wail of the wind rose and fell around them.

  “I’m not worried. I’m—”

  He couldn’t say it. He’d never told a woman that he loved her. Had he told anyone? His family didn’t go in for that kind of sentiment. It wasn’t their way. But the words were welli
ng up in his heart like an ocean swell, and they terrified him.

  Chrissie had never given any hint that she felt more deeply about him than “flirting.” She was dealing with so much right now. Would he overwhelm her if he told her how he felt? Would she tell him to forget it? Toss him out into the storm?

  Instead of saying anything, he set aside the can of Pringles and crawled toward her. He nudged her back onto the air mattress. The gleam in her eyes told him that this, at least, was perfectly welcome.

  Together, they rolled onto the mattress, which sagged and squished under their combined weight. Chrissie burst out laughing. “So much for sleeping tonight.”

  “Who needs sleep?” As an onslaught of sleet battered the windows, he eased himself off the mattress. “It’s too loud anyway.”

  Crouching between her legs, he unsnapped her pants and opened them to reveal the tender skin of her lower belly and a glimpse of her underwear. Sunshine yellow, this time. He ran his hands down her legs, squeezing lightly through the thick fleece fabric.

  “What are you doing?” She propped herself on her elbows, even though the mattress pulled at her like quicksand. “I thought you wanted to hear all my fantastic and unachievable ideas.”

  “I do.” He kissed the sensitive skin just above her curls. “All of them. But I’m having trouble keeping my hands off you.” He twisted one finger through her curls and tugged lightly. “Do you want me to stop? Please say no.”

  She laughed softly. “I do love it when a man begs. You may continue,” she said graciously.

  Her breath hitched as he slid her pants lower down her thighs. He’d spent the past weeks learning everything he could about her. Hands-on learning, or in this case, mouth-on. He knew she went absolutely wild when he stroked her clit with his tongue. Which worked out great because he found the taste of her electrifying. All it took was inhaling the scent of her and he went hard as a hammer. And that first touch of his tongue on her soft folds sent him into a kind of fugue state.