“What exactly is a flotilla?” she asked as they worked. Occasionally his warm shoulder bumped hers and butterflies kicked up in her stomach. At least she told herself that, as she didn’t want to get seasick in front of him.
“Boats from Lockabee and other nearby islands sail and motor over, forming an armada across the harbor and around the island. The boats string lights all over, tie closely together stem to stern, and basically party. From what I hear, it’s quite the event, and with little moon, the lights should be spectacular.”
Cheyenne fell silent, watching Jake as he worked. His feet were lean and brown as was the rest of his body that she could see. Thinking about his body is not what you should be doing, she chastised herself. Instead, she thought how Jake had made himself part of this small community. He knew the residents and was friendly and helpful, not at all reserved and stand-offish as he had been in Chicago. As the boat bounced across the water to the first boat in the area, she wondered what it would be like to belong somewhere. They had moved around a lot growing up because whenever her mom couldn’t pay the rent, they would get evicted and she would simply pile them in the old car and roll down the road to another small town where she could get a room, or until they ran out of gas.
Shaking off old memories, she concentrated on the task before her. One by one, McNally sidled up to the boats and Jake passed over the flags, collecting a small registration fee he said would help offset the cost of fireworks that would be shot off from a barge Sunday evening.
“Better put on some sunscreen,” McNally said at one point, tossing her a tub of lotion. “You must be a tourist with that pale skin.”
Jake grinned and offered to do her legs. She ignored his comment, but stood and lifted her foot to the bench beside him, rubbing the cream up her calf and over her thigh. She heard a groan and wondered at the pained expression on his face before he got up and headed down to the galley for water. He came back with three bottles, passed one to McNally and rubbed one across his brow as he sat beside her again.
“Drink,” he said as he opened her bottle and gave it to her. “Regardless of the water all around us, it’s easy to get dehydrated in the sun.”
Every time she thought they were done, another boat appeared, tossing an anchor into the shallow harbor. The boats were all sizes from small two sail cutters to larger yachts and pontoons. Everyone was friendly, offering them drinks as they floated by. It would seem this was the summer party not to be missed. The sun beat down, the temperature rose and Cheyenne found herself sweating. She wiped an arm across her brow.
As they headed back to the pier, Jake went up and spoke softly to the man at the wheel. He came back to where she sat, hands on hips, and grinned at her. “Can you swim?”
“Of course I can swim.”
“Very well?” His smile was growing and she suddenly had a suspicion of what he was up to.
She glanced toward the pier and the sandy beach which lay to the side. Colorful umbrellas and beach towels dotted the surface and people were everywhere. That was her mistake, for the minute her back was turned, Jake caught her beneath the arms and legs and stepped onto the cushioned seat. She grabbed him around the neck.
“Don’t you dare!” She squealed just before McNally cut the motor and Jake jumped.
Water rushed over her and she came up sputtering. Jake reached for her but she knocked his arm aside and cupped her hands, pushing a wave of water over his face. Before he could catch her, she pushed him under. If he wanted to play, she could hold her own.
He grabbed her leg and pulled her under with him, tugging her close until every inch of her felt every inch of him. He locked his lips to hers and shared his breath and for endless moments they floated in the crystal clear water. When they surfaced, McNally was leaning over the back of the boat.
“Thought maybe the sharks got you,” he said.
Cheyenne swiveled her head in all directions, panic causing her heart to skip a beat.
She paddled a few strokes to the boat where she grabbed a hand rail. Jake swam up beside her. “There are no sharks this close,” he said. “Dolphins, maybe.”
She pushed her drooping hat back from her forehead and tried to glare but the water actually felt good. It had cooled her off but now the thought of Jake’s kiss only heated her back up.
McNally took her hand and pulled her out of the water. Just as Jake pulled himself up, she turned and pushed him back in.
“You have ruined almost all my clothes,” she started, but he only laughed.
“I’ll buy you more,” he said, treading water. “And maybe a bikini.”
The idea of him seeing her in a swim suit, much less a bikini, had water droplets sizzling off her overheated skin. “You are certifiable.”
“All the more reason for you to stay very close to me.” He lowered his voice. “You wouldn’t want me to do something disgraceful to the Donovan name.” He back-paddled a few strokes, his gaze still intent on her. “That means you have to swim to shore with me.”
Cheyenne glanced up, gauging the distance. It couldn’t be more than fifty yards, a doable distance. “You’re serious?”
“Come on. It shouldn’t be hard for a mermaid.” She touched her hat, the one he had bought her. No one ever bought her gifts, even sensible things like hats and clothes. Since she didn’t want to lose it, she climbed onto the back of the boat and slid into the water feet first, keeping her head above water.
He set a leisurely pace and she easily kept up with him doing the breast stroke.
“When did you learn to swim?” she asked, thinking of what he had told her about his strict education.
“Oh, Uncle made sure I learned but not for pleasure. He said if I should be on some rich patron’s yacht and something went wrong, I needed to be able to save myself.”
Cheyenne was beginning to think less of the senior Donovan. “Did you learn to jump out of a plane for the same reason?”
That made him laugh. “I’m sure I would have if he had thought of it.”
Cheyenne jerked her foot up when something brushed against her but realized it was the sandy bottom as Jake stood up. She got her feet beneath her and together they waded to shore, him pulling her by the hand. No one even bothered to look their way, for which she was glad considering the way her shirt clung to her skin, her bra visible beneath the thin material.
“That was…refreshing,” she said when they stopped at the edge of the beach. “Although I probably look a sight.”
“You look,” he started but paused.
“Like a drowned cat?” She arched a brow.
“I was going to say pretty,” he started and she scoffed. “Really, you are, but I think the word I want is normal.” He straightened her hat.
She knew her gaze reflected her confusion. “What kind of a statement is that?”
“It’s hard to explain,” he said with a shrug. “You’re Cheyenne, not Miss Tucker.”
Though it sounded strange, she understood because she had seen the same changes in him. Here on Lockabee, he was Jake Smith, not the famous Joseph Donovan. And she had to admit she liked the casual, relaxed atmosphere of the small village where she didn’t have to worry that someone would see through her and discover she wasn’t as prim and proper as her job required. That she liked a good joke and a cold beer.
“Come on,” he said, shrugging off the introspection. “The sand will be hot, but if we walk in the shallows closer to the pier, there won’t be as much to worry about.”
They managed the sand in a few hops and Jake led her weaving around the people and dock ropes until they were once again at McNally’s boat.
“So you didn’t drown him,” the older man commented as he handed over their shoes.
“It was a very near thing,” she replied with a laugh. She laughed harder when Jake grabbed her and swung her out over the water again.
“We’d better go,” he said, shaking McNally’s hand. “Thanks for the escort today.”
“Anyt
ime,” he replied then winked at Cheyenne. “You keep him in line now.”
She blushed at the thought this man considered her and Jake a couple.
“I’m starved,” Jake said as they exited the pier and moved along the boardwalk. “Let’s eat.”
She looked down at her drying but now salt-crusty clothes. “I can’t go anywhere like this. I’m beginning to itch from the salt.”
“This’ll work,” Jake said, ignoring her as he stopped at a food vendor on the corner. He dug some soggy bills out of his pocket and soon they were eating fish po’boys as they walked along. The fish was fresh and crisp and the sauce tangy on her tongue. She even ate every last crumb of the crusty roll. At least the swim today had worked off a few calories.
“Jake! Jake!” A female voice calling his name had them both turning around. Brenda Kay was heading their way and from the look on her face, in a panic.
“What’s up?”
“I need help. Mary Beth called in sick, though I’m sure she’s off somewhere with her boyfriend enjoying the festival. Bonnie’s daughter went into labor and so I’m cooking and trying to wait tables.”
“What about Lindsay?” Cheyenne asked, thinking of the one person she knew on the island.
“Are you kidding? She makes more on a single ride than I can pay for the day,” the woman said.
Jake looked at her then back at Brenda Kay. “I was going to show Cheyenne around, but give me thirty minutes to get some fresh clothes and I’ll help you out.”
Cheyenne watched in amazement as Brenda reached up with both hands on his cheeks and kissed him squarely on the mouth.
“You’re a doll! Can you make it in twenty?” Then she was gone.
“Okay,” Jake drew the word out as they turned and hurried along the boardwalk. “So much for the rest of my plans.” He saw her to the door of the Inn. “I’ll call when I can get away, but it might be awhile before I see you.”
Not as long as you think. Cheyenne smiled and hurried inside.
* * *
Jake made it back to the restaurant in less than half an hour, but stopped short just inside the door. Standing beside the table to his right, Cheyenne chatted with a foursome as she took their orders. She wore a bright pink top and white shorts with a checkered apron tied around her waist. She stuck her pencil in her bun, pad in her pocket and walked to the kitchen window where she put her order on the turn-clip.
He was fascinated by yet another side of her. Gone was the proper executive assistant, although she was definitely still efficient as she bussed a table while she waited for her order. She was perfectly at ease as a waitress, and he watched as she gathered four glasses of water and took them to another table just filling up.
“You going to gawk or did you come to help?” Brenda Kay asked as she hurried by.
“Don’t complain about free help,” he countered. “Where do you want me?”
She laughed out loud. “Honey, that is such a loaded question. I’m sure your lady friend would know the answer.”
He glanced over to where Cheyenne bustled from table to table, refilling water and handing out napkins. His groin tightened and he wondered if the few kisses they had shared could indeed lead to something more. Brenda Kay’s smack to his chest, apron in hand, quickly scattered his daydreams.
For the next several hours, he had no opportunity to talk to Cheyenne as they busted their butts with tourist traffic. She gave him a quick “hey” when they met at the window putting up orders, but had no more time when someone from her section called her over.
Jake wasn’t nearly as efficient as she and Becky, the other waitress, and more than once took an order to the wrong table. No one seemed to mind, and orders were quickly replaced with correct ones, but for probably the first time in his life, he didn’t excel at a job. Surprisingly, it didn’t bother him and he grinned as his apron pocket jingled with tips as the night wore on.
There was a lull after the dinner hour ended at eight, and Brenda Kay brought out some fresh fish and chips. “Eat while you can,” she said. “We’ll get another rush after the music at the park.” They all sat down gratefully at a back table and ate without talking.
When Brenda and Becky went back to the kitchen, Jake put a hand out as Cheyenne also started to rise. “Sit for another minute.”
She did as he asked, but he noticed she looked everywhere but at him. “Hey.” He turned her to face him with a finger to her chin. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry. Brenda asked for your help and I butted in, but she seemed so desperate.”
“Jeez, don’t apologize. You are fantastic. For me it’s been like an orchestra warming up. Everyone is playing their own little piece, nothing meshes so the notes are discordant and the beat is off. I don’t see how you keep it all straight.”
She gave him a tired smile. “The first time I ever saw you, it was at the Oriole with your uncle. I had no idea who either of you were at the time. I was your waitress and he had a terrible tantrum because the meat was not as tender as he liked. He actually got up and threw it in the trash.”
“My uncle tends to be …flamboyant.”
“That may be, but for someone working her way through school and not always knowing where her next meal would come from, it was beyond wasteful.” She blushed slightly. “I’m afraid I told him so.”
“I don’t remember that. I would think I’d remember something that impressive.”
“Well, I’m certainly glad he didn’t remember a year later when I applied for a job at the Academy. I nearly dropped through the floor when I went into his office for an interview and recognized him.”
Her statements gave him more insight into her background and personality than she probably would have liked. From the sounds of it, she came from a poor background but had managed to overcome it. She now had sophistication and polish but was severe in self-discipline and efficiency from her bun to her four-inch heels. That was how she had appeared the first time he saw her on the island. Now she enthusiastically roughhoused with him in the harbor and unabashedly waited tables in shorts and a tank. He didn’t even want to think about the kisses they had shared.
It was like she was two different people, he thought, as she left him to greet new arrivals. There were hidden depths to Cheyenne Tucker and he intended to unearth all her secrets.
Chapter 9
It had been a long time since Cheyenne had spent so many hours on her feet and by the time Brenda Kay closed the restaurant doors at 11:30, she longed only for her bed. She twisted the cap on the last of the condiment bottles she had refilled, placed it on the tray with the others and turned toward the kitchen to put them in the refrigerator.
“Ack!” Jake was right behind her. The bottles wobbled and tipped but he grabbed the tray and steadied it.
“I’ll take that,” he said, easily balancing the tray. “You look beat. Sit for a minute and I’ll be right back.” He turned for the kitchen.
Cheyenne reached up and pulled the clip from her hair, running her fingers through the long strands. If he thought she looked beat, that couldn’t be good. While he had praised her for helping out, she now realized she wanted more from him, and looking like a wilted flower wasn’t going to get it.
Brenda Kay came over. “Here’s your pay for the night,” she said, holding out several bills.
Cheyenne shook her head. “You don’t need to pay me. I was just helping out.” She dug in her pocket. “In fact, you can have my tip money, too.” She dumped a handful of coins and bills onto the table.
“Mine, too,” Jake said from behind her. “Although I doubt I have as much as Cheyenne. She was definitely the star waitress tonight.”
She blushed at his praise.
Brenda Kay looked from one to the other as a slow smile creased her face. “You two should take that and go have a nice dinner somewhere.”
“This is a nice place for dinner,” Cheyenne stated emphatically just as Jake said, “I can afford dinner.”
The
older lady laughed. “Get out of here. There’s probably still partying going on.”
Before she could protest, Jake grabbed her hand and pulled her out into the street. Music still wafted across the breeze, and lights along Main Street were bright enough for one to think it was midday instead of midnight.
“Do you feel like walking down to the pier to see the flotilla?” Jake had moved his arm to her shoulders, holding her close.
Cheyenne’s feet hurt, her back ached, and she was sure she smelled like fryer grease. “Why not? I had nothing else planned for the middle of the night.”
He gave her shoulders a squeeze as he laughed. They stopped at one of the vendors along the way and he purchased a couple of bottles of water before leading her down the pier to where McNally’s boat had been earlier. The pier security lights didn’t reach quite this far, and the soft night closed around them.
“He’s no doubt trolling the flotilla,” Jake said as he pulled her down so their feet dangled off the end of the pier.
“Keeping everyone in line?” she asked.
“No. Probably partying along with the rest of them.” He laughed.
Cheyenne looked out over the glassy water and sucked in a breath. Hundreds, probably thousands of lights flickered across the harbor. Though most were white, every so often a boat was silhouetted in blue and red, green or purple. She glanced to the right where the lights appeared to stretch into infinity. When she turned her head to the left, she encountered Jake’s lips, close but not quite touching.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, afraid to break the spell.
“You’re beautiful,” he corrected, and then there was only the sound of lapping water as his lips took hers. As always, his kiss started out gentle, his lips a feathery caress of her own. She fumbled to set her bottle aside so she could circle his waist. The moment she did, all she could do was hold on for dear life as he deepened the kiss and took her soaring. He pulled her close until their chests touched and their hearts beat as one.
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