“I’d say you need a pay cut.”
“It’s just a coffee date. Dr. Drew really wants to meet you, and Stewie and I’ll be there, so buh-bye first-date awkwardness. Plus, you can stock up on coffee beans while you’re there.”
Madison set her stethoscope on her desk and shrugged from her lab coat. “I don’t know.”
“What’s the holdup? He’s a doctor, he’s handsome . . . he’s a doctor . . .” Cassidy brushed her hair off her shoulder. Today it lay in obedient curls, framing her friend’s face.
“Your hair looks nice.”
“Don’t change the— Really?” Cassidy turned to the small antique mirror behind her, peering into the speckled glass. “I bought a new curling iron, it has ions or something. But never mind that. Say yes. I promise you won’t regret it.”
Truth was, Madison didn’t know what was holding her back.
Yes, you do, Madison. He was about six-one, with strapping shoulders and smoldering eyes. She had to stop thinking about Beckett. Clearly he wasn’t interested in her. He wasn’t the one asking her out, was he?
She sighed hard enough to move papers on her desk. “Fine.”
Cassidy whooped. “Super! Okay, I have to run. See you in the morning . . . and tomorrow night!” She left the office, calling down the hall, “You won’t regret it!”
“I already do,” Madison called back.
Coachlight Coffeehouse was located in a remodeled Victorian. Originally built in 1907, the brick structure crouched on the corner of Main and Maple, its wide porch and bold columns an open invitation to enter. A gathering place for locals and tourists alike, it featured excellent brews, tasty pastries, and turn-of-the-century ambience.
Beckett, however, came only for the coffee, a dark-roasted Colombian that made Dewitt’s coffee-machine brew seem like motor oil. After a busy summer day like today, he was ready for a tall glass of iced coffee as he climbed the wide concrete steps.
His plans for the evening were refreshingly simple. Grab a cup of joe and head for his rock tower. Accessed by a trail behind Riverside Park and a long uphill climb, the rock tower offered an inspiring view of the valley. It was Beckett’s favorite spot to escape humanity and enjoy the beauty of God’s creation.
The rich aroma of good coffee teased his senses as he opened the door and stepped aside for a couple tourists as they exited. He crossed the squeaky wood floor and got in the line, which, as usual on a Friday night, was a long one.
He looked over the display case, eyeing the pastries. He’d worked straight through lunch, munching on an apple between repair jobs.
When it was his turn, he ordered coffee and a slice of Dutch apple pie from the cashier, a teenaged girl who smiled at him with moony eyes.
After paying, he stepped aside and glanced around the bustling room. Maeve Perkins and Dottie Meyers sat at a window table sipping tea. He recognized a couple tourists who’d rented a fishing boat the day before. They’d returned with a string of smallmouth bass.
He passed over a table near the door, then his eyes returned to the group as he recognized Madison. She was sitting with Cassidy Zimmerman, Stew Flannery, and a man he recognized but couldn’t place. Beckett wasn’t sure how he’d missed them when he’d entered.
Two men, two women—he knew a double date when he saw one. Especially when the familiar man set his hand on the back of Madison’s chair, his knuckles brushing her hair.
Beckett’s jaw clenched as his eyes swung back to her. Dark waves swept over her slender shoulders. The candlelight on the table cast a warm glow over her face and shimmered off her glossy lips. She wore a thin pink sweater over a white top. A silver necklace sparkled against a modest display of her creamy neckline. She laughed at something, and Beckett’s eyes swung to her date.
Beckett suddenly remembered the man. He was the new doctor at Riverview General. He’d rented a fishing boat after he’d moved to town early in the spring.
He had tousled, light brown hair, a perfect set of teeth, and dimples when he smiled—and he was doing plenty of that.
“Here you go, Mr. O’Reilly,” the teenager said.
He turned to his plated pie and mug of coffee. Last thing he wanted was to be stuck here watching some guy fawn over Madison.
“Sorry, can I get this to go?”
She smiled charmingly. “Absolutely.”
Of course, Madison had gone out with other men before. He’d seen her with dates, but it had been awhile. And that had been before.
Before what, O’Reilly? Before she hired you for lessons?
When was he going to get it through his head that she was off-limits? Their truce was just a ceasefire, not an engraved invitation. Somehow he’d let himself believe there could be more.
Again. When are you going to get it through your head—you ruined any chance of that ten years ago.
“Here you go.” The girl handed him a sack and to-go cup.
“Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
He turned, ducking his head, and beat a path for the door. When he’d skirted the last table, he reached for the knob.
“Beckett, my man,” Stew said. “Hold up. I was just telling Drew about your custom boats.”
Giving up on his retreat, Beckett stepped over to the table.
“He’s interested in something like the one you made for the Tacketts.”
His eyes went to Madison, and she arched a brow. He’d been gassing it up when Madison had shown up to call a ceasefire. He hadn’t claimed it, even when she’d called it “artwork,” though the word had made him glow inside.
The doctor reached his hand out. “Drew Landon.”
“Beckett O’Reilly.” He shook the man’s hand.
“How long’s something like that take?”
“Depends. On a lot of factors.” He’d only sold two, but he found himself reluctant to do business with Madison’s date. Beckett put his soul into his boats, and he wasn’t sure this guy was worth the effort. Or maybe Beckett just wanted to believe he wasn’t.
Drew pulled out his cell. “Why don’t you give me your number, and we can talk later.”
Beckett rattled off his number, and Dr. Perfect punched it in.
“Great.” The doctor pocketed his phone. “I hope we can do business.”
Beckett nodded to the group in general, but his eyes went to Madison of their own volition. She picked at a crescent roll, her eyes on her plate.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MADISON SET DOWN THE ELECTRIC SANDER AND STEPPED away from the boat. A cloud of dust hovered overhead, and multicolored flecks of paint carpeted her gravel drive like confetti. The boat had been at least four different colors in past lives. She was planning on painting it midnight blue—if she ever finished sanding. Her hands were numb, and she’d only been at it an hour.
Across the yard, Lulu chased a firefly in the waning light, snapping futilely. Another lit up nearby, and she launched at it, missing when its light faded. Lulu put her nose in the air, sniffing something that eluded Madison’s nose, then shuffled through the grass in search of whatever had piqued her curiosity.
Madison picked up the sander and turned it on. It buzzed to life, vibrating in her palm. She should’ve taken her dad’s advice and bought a mask. She’d probably breathed in half of what she’d sanded away, and she was wearing the other half.
A cool breeze swept through the yard, clearing the dust. The sander hummed, and the musty smell of old wood filled her nostrils.
Her thoughts went back to the coffee shop date that had ended a couple hours ago. Drew seemed nice. He was handsome and attentive, had a good sense of humor. But when Cassidy had mentioned extending the evening with a movie, Madison had declined. She had given Drew her number, though, and if he asked her out, she’d say yes. He was pleasant enough, and who knew? Sometimes the best kind of love grew from friendship. Or so she’d heard.
A shadow fell across the boat. She turned to see a man nearby. She jumped, almost dropping the sander.
/> Shutting it off, she glared at Beckett, palming her heart as Lulu bounded forward. “You scared me to death.”
“I said hello, but you didn’t hear.” His eyes traveled over the planes of her face, and his lips twitched as he gave Lulu the requisite belly rub. “You should be wearing goggles and a mask.”
He would catch her all sweaty and dusty. She wiped her face with numb hands, imagining the colorful freckles she must be sporting.
“What brings you here?”
“Tried to reach you on your landline—figured you were still out with your friends. I was going to leave you a note. I just realized I have to reschedule our sailing lesson tomorrow, and of course Evan’s working.”
“Oh.” She felt a stab of disappointment and realized she’d been looking forward to it. Of course she was. It was the next step toward her goal.
He looked at Lulu, scratching behind her ears while the dog’s eyes practically rolled back in her head.
“I have to drive to Indy.”
It was no secret his dad was locked up at the Marion County jail. “Well, no problem. We’ll just pick up next Saturday, then.”
He ran his hand over the unfinished rim of the boat, chips of paint flying off as he went. “So this is your sailboat.”
She tried to see the boat through his eyes and didn’t like what she saw. “She’s kind of a wreck at the moment.”
He walked around the boat, taking it in. She remembered the lovely boat he’d made, with its sleek curves and beautiful finish. Madison hated to admit it, but she cared what he thought, and he couldn’t be thinking anything good.
“Think she’s a lost cause?”
“How’s the motor?”
She shrugged. “I haven’t had it checked, but Michael said she was mechanically sound.”
His hand stopped on the bow. “Michael?”
“It was his. He bought it just before—” She should be able to say the word by now. But Beckett started walking again, sparing her.
“It’s been sitting in my parents’ barn. He used every dime he saved working at the Dairy Barn for two summers. Didn’t even want a car, just wanted this boat.”
Silence hung like dust in the air.
“He was a nice guy,” Beckett said finally. “We didn’t hang in the same crowd, but he was always kind to me.”
That didn’t surprise her, even as different as they’d been—Beckett the resident bad boy; Michael the golden child. Michael had seen the good in everyone, including her. Was it any wonder she’d felt so alone after his death?
“He had a way about him,” she said.
“Not many teens can get away with spouting off about God like he did and still be liked.”
And there was the thought that always chafed her like a burr. For all Michael’s faith, for all his love of God, where was his Lord that day? Was He busy doing something else? Her grandma had always said, “God’s grip never slips.” Well, it had slipped that day. She pushed the disturbing thought away.
“Madison, you can’t really think you’re going to win in this thing.”
“I know she needs a lot of work.”
He shook his head.
She lifted her chin. “I’ll do whatever it takes.” Michael thought the boat had promise, so she must. “Besides, it’s based on handicaps or whatever, right? And I’ll have Evan Higgins helping me. He’s my ace in the hole.”
“The handicap will help, but there’s a lot of work here.”
Beckett didn’t know her very well if he thought a little work was going to make her quit. “I can handle it.”
He rounded the boat and examined the sander. “You need coarser paper. It’ll go a lot faster.” He handed it back. “I could help if you want.”
She blinked at him. The sunset at his back, his eyes darkened to coal. She remembered the look on his face in the coffee shop when Stew had stopped him. He’d hardly looked at her, and she wondered now why that was.
“Why would you do that?” He’d already taught her to swim, on his own free time. Was it possible he—
“I do this kind of thing for fun, remember?” He looked away, ran his hand over the area she’d sanded.
Right. Of course he didn’t . . . How silly of her. If he liked her in that way, he’d ask her out, wouldn’t he?
She shrugged. “I wouldn’t turn down the help. Heaven knows I can use it.”
“I can check the motor too, if you want.”
He was being awfully nice. It was starting to make her suspicious. Maybe he felt guilty about Jade. Maybe helping her was his penance.
“Or not,” he said.
Her every thought was probably written all over her face. “No, I appreciate the offer. Thanks. I can pay you for any repairs.”
“Let’s see how it goes. It may run just fine. When should I come by?”
“Uh, Monday, after supper?”
“Sounds good.”
A cricket chirped from a nearby bush, and in the distance a car door slammed.
“Well, it’s late. I should go.” He backed toward the driveway.
She didn’t want him to leave, she suddenly realized, but she couldn’t find a reason for him to stay. “See you Monday then.”
“See ya.”
She watched him go, with that slow swagger of his, and realized if he’d asked her to a movie, she wouldn’t have found an excuse to say no.
Even though he had a shady past.
Even though she didn’t know what happened with Jade.
Even though he’d once given her the best kiss of her life and then proceeded to forget it had ever happened.
The dance had fallen on a snowy February night during Madison’s sophomore year. Bored and feeling cooped up, the students of Chapel Springs High School had turned out in droves. With a date, in a group, it didn’t matter as long as it got them out of the house.
Madison came with a group of friends and danced with the boys who asked her. But mostly she hung in the corner, trying to talk Cassidy into asking Luke Cavendish, her current crush, to dance.
Madison had worn her favorite skirt, a white filmy piece that floated around her knees, and her new blue sweater with butterflies embroidered on the collar.
When Mrs. Pinsky announced a social dancing game over the squealing mike, students began taking the floor.
“This is my chance,” Cassidy said when Luke joined the fray. She pulled Madison forward. “Come on!”
Madison followed her to the center of the gym floor where a crowd had gathered, listening to Mrs. Pinsky’s instructions. Boys in the inner circle, rotating one way, girls in the outer, rotating the other. She’d blow a whistle, the circles would stop, and you’d dance with the person across from you.
“Great,” Cassidy pouted. “What are my chances?”
“They’d be one hundred percent if you’d ask him,” Madison said as they formed a circle around the boys.
“Fifty-fifty at best. Did you see who he’s been dancing with?”
The music started and the circles spun. The disco ball flashed faint white specks around the room that was barely dimmer than during gym class. The circle went faster, the girls tugging and laughing. The boys were already spinning out of control in the other direction. Michael tugged her hair as he went by, and he was gone before she could retaliate.
A whistle blew. The circles halted.
Madison’s laugh evaporated and her smile faded. Beckett O’Reilly stood opposite her. She hadn’t even seen him tonight. He didn’t attend things like this—few seniors did.
He stared back with his unfathomable expression.
“Lucky!” someone whispered in Madison’s ear before she stepped toward her partner.
On her other side, Cassidy paired up with a tall, lanky freshman.
There was no fudging this now with a little shift to the left or right.
Besides, Beckett had already taken a step forward. Madison placed her hands on his shoulders, her heart double-timing the beat of the slow song. She barel
y reached his chin, and she noticed a tiny cleft there. His jaw was freshly shaven, and a spicy hint of cologne teased her senses.
Kelly Clarkson began the first words of “A Moment Like This.”
“I’m Beckett.” She hadn’t heard his voice before, not like this. It was deep and husky, not like a teenager at all, but like a full-grown man.
“I know. Madison.”
His hands burned through her thin sweater at her waist. She remembered the first time she’d seen him, at the football game. You didn’t forget eyes like that when they bored into you. But since then, he’d ignored her. And since then, she’d paid attention to all the gossip about him.
He’d been caught putting graffiti on the old lumber warehouse, suspended for fighting, and accused of stealing a class ring from Bradley Moore’s locker—all of it since September. The class ring had been all the talk the past month.
She wondered what he was thinking, but not badly enough to look him in the eyes and ask. Her sweater had gone warm and itchy and her face burned, probably making her look like a clown.
His breath stirred the wispy curls at her temple, and she felt it clear down to her toes. None of the other boys she’d danced with had this effect on her, but then, they hadn’t been Beckett O’Reilly.
Cassidy caught her eye over Beckett’s shoulder and mouthed something she couldn’t read, her eyes wide.
Madison focused on the neckline of Beckett’s black T-shirt, on the lyrics of the song, on the pinch of her toes in the low heels. Her stomach felt like a popcorn machine, the contents popping wildly inside. Someone had to say something, break this awful tension. Apparently it wasn’t going to be him.
“Did you do it?” Of all the stupid things to say! She bit her lip.
“Do what?”
She couldn’t think of a different way to answer. “Steal the class ring?”
His muscles went rigid under her hands.
She winced. He must think she was the Goody-Goody Queen of Chapel Springs High.
She could feel his eyes on her. The popping intensified, assault and battery on her ribs. She could’ve asked after his grandpa or how his classes were going or any number of things. Stupid!
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