by Terri Osburn
Randy pulled a pan from the cupboard beside the stove, then stepped to the fridge to get the chili. “Paperwork. With two businesses, I usually spend my Sundays working the books. Adventures opens the Monday after the wedding, so I’m working on being ready when we open the doors.”
“You don’t sound very enthused about that.”
“I have tea and water. Which would you like?” he asked.
“Water is fine.” Will propped her chin on her palm. “You don’t like the financial side of running a business?”
“It’s not that I don’t like it,” he answered, sliding the bottle of water across the island. “The numbers haven’t been as easy to deal with lately.” That was the understatement of the year.
Her response was completely unexpected.
“I could take a look for you.” Will spun the cap off the water bottle. “Patty let me clean up the books for Dempsey’s while they were gone, and they’re looking much better now.”
His books were his business, but hadn’t he harassed her the day before for being too stubborn to accept help?
“Do you have some kind of background in accounting?” Randy asked, realizing the woman couldn’t have been a bartender her whole life. “Is that what you went to college for?”
A look of unease crossed her face. “I had a couple classes. Forget I asked.” She took a drink of the water, keeping her eyes averted. “I didn’t mean to butt into your business.”
Randy knew Dempsey’s had been in trouble enough to require an infusion of money from Lucas the fall before. If Will worked some kind of magic on their books, and Patty was pleased with it, then what did he have to lose?
“The program is open on the laptop,” he said, pointing toward a doorway on the other side of the living room. “First door on the right. I’ll heat this up and bring it in.”
Will sat up straight. “Really? I mean—”
“Really.” Randy pulled a bamboo spoon from the large utensil holder next to the stove. “Have a look. Maybe a second pair of eyes will see something I’m missing.”
If he didn’t know better, Randy would swear that was excitement in Will’s eyes. Since when did the prospect of financial reports and bank statements elicit excitement in anyone? And how could he get her to look at him with that same kind of enthusiasm?
“Great.” She hopped off the stool, snagging her water as she went. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”
Two hours later, Will was running on an adrenaline high from finding three key areas that would help Randy get control of his numbers. Few people understood why a child who grew up on the edge of society, living like a gypsy, would ever want to venture into accounting, but Will loved the clarity of it. Numbers didn’t lie. They weren’t ambiguous. And they rarely changed.
With accounting, you knew where you stood, but there was also a flexibility required to be really good. An ability to see things that might not be obvious to anyone else. With a mother who knew nothing about managing money, Will had found the need to be creative with numbers from an early age.
By establishing a career in accounting, she could put the kind of out-of-the-box thinking she’d been doing most of her life to work for other people. And she enjoyed solving intricate financial puzzles like the one she’d worked through with Randy.
“Where did you learn to do that?” he asked as they returned to the kitchen. He put their empty bowls into the dishwasher while Will took a seat and opened Beth’s planner on the island. “Your talents are being wasted behind a bar.”
Will enjoyed the compliment, but to answer the question would reveal too much about her past. “Let’s say I have a head for numbers.” Which was true. She always had. “And I like tending bar. There’s actually a good bit of math involved. Two ounces of this to one and a half of that, and then a splash of something else. These are serious calculations, and one ounce off can kill a drink.”
He closed the dishwasher, then wiped his hands on a towel. “I’d never thought of that, but I guess you’re right.”
“Okay, I helped you. Now it’s time for you to return the favor.” She pulled the pen from the leather loop along the side of the planner. “Maybe we should draw the wedding layout for the deck. Too bad we don’t have any graph paper.”
Randy held up a finger, then disappeared in the direction of the office. Will spun on her seat, staring once again at the open and spacious living room. The furnishings were minimal and screamed modern, but they also gave off a kind of welcoming warmth. Maybe it was the gray of the couch, or the thick black area rug under the contemporary coffee table.
What artwork did cover the walls, which wasn’t much, was simple, understated, and carried an Asian influence. A content-looking Buddha hovered on the coffee table. Will had never studied Eastern religions, but the serene and happy-looking fat man had always made her smile.
There was also the envelope Randy had yet to open. They could get to that after the wedding details were down. That way, she could leave as soon as she’d fulfilled her duty and been present when Randy saw whatever it was Sid sent over. As much as she’d enjoyed straightening out his books, she realized that every minute they spent together deepened their budding friendship.
In truth, Will was incredibly attracted to the big guy with the quick smile and gentle ways. Which meant she should be bolting for the door.
“Ask and ye shall receive,” Randy said, reaching the kitchen with graph paper in hand. He set it on the island, opened a drawer on the other side, and withdrew two pencils. “Now we’re ready. How about I draw up a rough version of what I see, then we can work out the details together?”
“Sounds good to me.” And it did.
She and Randy made a good team. He never pushed to be in charge. Never threw his weight around, so to speak. There were moments when he forced her to be open minded, or admit he had a point, but those encounters were over as quickly as they began, with no male ego victory dancing involved.
Randy swung around the island, taking the stool to her right, which worked out well since she was left-handed and he wrote with his right. They even fit together physically.
Time to put the brakes on that line of thinking and concentrate on the task at hand.
And then she got a whiff of Randy’s clean scent. It hadn’t distracted her nearly as much in the office, because she’d been engrossed in the numbers and he’d not been this close. Their shoulders were practically touching as he leaned over the paper. She could feel the heat from his body along her entire right side.
He’d drawn the seating area for the ceremony, as well as the tent positioning, before Will pulled her brain back to the graph paper.
“We don’t want the tent overpowering the ceremony, looming too close, so setting up a longer and slightly narrower one on the first level down will leave the top open for the actual ceremony.”
“Right,” Will said, watching his fingers as they lightly grasped the pencil and floated across the surface of the paper. The light touch was contradictory to his size and stature.
Would he be gentle in a more…intimate setting as well?
Holy cheese and crackers. What was wrong with her? Maybe he’d put something in the chili that sent her libido into overdrive. Could the right combination of vegetables do that? Hell if she knew, but as Randy was keeping this visit completely platonic, Will needed to remember to do the same.
Randy hadn’t slid in so much as a single innuendo. No sly looks beneath his lashes, or even a raised brow. Though they were practically thigh-to-thigh, he didn’t appear to be the least bit affected by their proximity.
Meaning she was in this state of heightened awareness alone. Lovely.
“The only problem might be the catering,” he said, leaning back from the paper. “They’ll have to haul everything down a level, so it increases the chance of dropped food.”
He looked at Will as if expecting an answer, but her mind was blank. Time to get her shit together. She put all her energy into examining the graph
paper and saw an idea.
“What if we switch them?”
“Switch what?”
She pulled a blank piece of paper from the stack and began to draw. “What if we hold the ceremony closer to the water and put the tent on the larger top deck?” Will remembered from the day before that there were two ways down to the pier. “The guests can go from the parking lot, along the left walkway, and down toward the pier.”
“That might work,” Randy said, pondering her suggestion.
Will flipped open some pages in the planner. “We’re looking at fewer than fifty guests, so there’s plenty of room down there for the chairs. And this way, Beth and Joe will practically be on the water. It’ll look gorgeous from every seat.”
“I think you’re on to something.” Randy slid her drawing his way and placed a large square for the tent along the side of the building. “If we put the food at this far end, then the caterer won’t have far to go at all. Less chance of trouble and more room for a dance floor.”
He sat back and rubbed a finger along his chin. “Is there anything you can’t do?” he asked, flashing Will an admiring grin that sent a blush up her cheeks, and heat to other places.
“Golf,” she said, trying to keep things light.
“Golf?”
“Yep. Tried it once. I was awful.”
Randy let out a full body laugh, and Will couldn’t help but laugh with him. He’d have laughed harder if he’d been there to see her swing that golf club.
Once the laughter faded, Will felt Randy’s eyes on her. Like the whiskey they resembled, spending too much time drinking in that look would make for a fun night but leave her with nothing but regrets come morning.
“Okay then,” she said, flipping to a blank page in the to-do section of the planner. She took notes as she spoke. “I need to find out how much table space the caterer requires, then see what Opal has in mind to put the cake on. At least the wedding is in the afternoon, so that gives the florist plenty of time to decorate once the tent is up.”
“The tent won’t take but thirty minutes. Have the guys arrive no later than eight that morning.” Randy leaned close enough for their thighs to touch, sending Will’s pen slashing across the page. “Sorry,” he said, putting a few inches between them.
“No problem,” she said. “Eight for the tent people. I’ll tell the florist nine and find out what time the caterer will need access to your kitchen.”
“Oh,” Randy said, putting his pencil to the graph paper again. “Here’s the dimensions of the decks, and I’ll put an X at the location of each outlet. If we put the DJ at the opposite end from the food, he’ll have an outlet here to hook into.” He placed an X near the front corner of the building.
Will folded the graph paper and stuck it inside the front cover of the planner. “That does it then.” Thank the heavens. She couldn’t handle being this close to the man much longer. Her brain cells were starting to fry, and the urge to turn and kiss him was getting harder to suppress.
But there was that damn envelope. Crap.
Randy put the pencils back in the drawer, leaving the few sheets of blank graph paper on the island. “I’ll put those away later,” he said, looking as if he didn’t want their visit to end.
Truth be told, she didn’t either. Which was all the more reason to cut and run.
“If you’ll open that packet from Sid, then I can head out.” She could have ditched him. Claim she’d forgotten, as he didn’t seem to be thinking about the envelope either. But she’d promised Sid.
“I’d forgotten about that.” Randy motioned for her to precede him to the couch. “Might as well get this over with. Sid doesn’t get wound up about much, so I’m curious to see what’s in here.”
So was Will.
Randy opened the flap, giving Will a quick look as if to say are we ready? With a nod, she said, “Let’s see it.”
He tipped the envelope down at an angle, sending a large photograph sliding onto the coffee table. It looked to be a family of four—a beautiful woman, a very large man, a serious-looking teen boy, and a small, dark-haired girl with a smudge of dirt on her cheek.
Will hovered on the edge of the couch. “Is that your family?” she asked in hushed tones.
Randy nodded but didn’t speak. He lifted the picture as if it might disintegrate in his hand. One fingertip touched the face of the beautiful woman, clearly his mother, to whom Sid bore a striking resemblance. His face took on a distant look.
Feeling the need to say something, Will asked, “How old were you there?”
“Eighteen,” he answered, never taking his eyes from the photo.
Silence hung like a fog in the air, but Will let it stay this time. Though he did his best to control his emotions, she could see pain and joy warring in his features. He’d clearly not seen this picture for many years, if ever. She had no doubt his mind was somewhere in the past, remembering the day it was taken, the moments before and after.
A full minute later, Randy turned the picture over. Written in Sid’s clear hand, it read, “Aunt Belinda found this in an old box.” That was it. Nothing sentimental. No dates, names, or locations. But then again, the brother and sister likely didn’t need a reminder of those incidental facts.
Unable to help herself, Will scooted closer to him. “Want to talk about it?”
He jerked as if he’d forgotten she was there, which she couldn’t hold against him. Being faced with unexpected memories like this wasn’t easy. Sid should have given Will a clue so she could have prepared him.
I don’t want him to be alone when he sees it.
Maybe Sid had given her a clue.
Randy ran a hand through his hair as the picture dropped onto the table. “I’m going to need something stronger than tea for this. You want some wine?”
Will’s plan to leave as soon as her envelope-opening duty was done went out the window.
“I’ll pour while you talk,” she said.
CHAPTER 14
Randy showed Will where to find the glasses, the wine, and the corkscrew, but his mind was still hovering somewhere in the past. When that picture landed on the coffee table, his heart had stopped, while his brain switched into overdrive. The trip back in time was so fast, and so abrupt, he wondered if his body would ache later.
“Here you go,” Will said, handing him a glass where he stood near the sliding glass door at the back of the kitchen. “Do you want to sit?”
“Let’s go out here.” He slid the door open and waited for Will to step through. “We can sit on the glider at the end there.” Randy pointed to the far left end of the porch.
She took a seat, squeezing as close to the arm as she could get. He didn’t let it bother him. At least she was still here. Her presence seemed to make the memories easier to deal with.
Randy filled the space beside her, putting the glider into motion and staring out over the lapping waves. His house was only feet from the sand, and he’d left the outside much as it had been when he bought the place. Inside was modern and contemporary. Outside was rustic and weathered.
“Sid looks a lot like your mom,” Will said, opening the conversation. As much as she dodged personal questions, in most respects, Will wasn’t the type to dance around an issue. He liked that about her. “You have her eyes, too.”
“Angelita Pilar Navarro. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” Randy took a sip of wine before continuing, letting the weight of his mother’s name, something that hadn’t crossed his lips in many years, settle into his bones. “That picture was taken shortly before she died.”
“So you all knew she was sick? Is that why you look so serious in the picture?”
Randy shook his head, watching a butterfly hover on the edge of the porch railing. “We had no idea she was sick. The photo was taken right after she and I had a big fight.” He tilted his head back, closing his eyes and seeing the look on his mother’s face when he said he was leaving. “I wanted to see the world. She didn’t want me to go.”
“But you went anyway.”
He nodded in the affirmative, too choked up to say the word.
Will remained quiet beside him. Rolling his head her way, he tried to read her expression. Did she think he was a bad son? Was she pitying him, or would she tell him that was typical teenage behavior and to get over it?
No censure showed on her face when she turned his way. Only a small smile. “Survivor’s guilt doesn’t change the fact that you did nothing wrong,” she said, her voice a whisper. Then she looked down and laced her fingers with his. “You wanted to live, and you had no reason to think anything bad was going to happen to her.” Their eyes met again. “And none of those facts change a damn thing, do they?”
She got it. He squeezed her hand.
“Thanks for that. I’m guessing you have a similar experience?”
Will tilted her head to one side. “Kind of. I said hello to the wrong person. Let him in and then leaned on him during a rough time in my life.” She paused, biting her bottom lip. “I sometimes think, if I could go back to that moment and take back that hello, then none of the bad stuff that followed would have happened. My life would be so different.”
As Randy’s porch faced east, the sun was slowly dropping behind them, turning the horizon a deep purple before their eyes. He and Will watched the colors shift and darken as their hands remained entwined. A new thought struck him.
This would be a nice way to end every day.
The sentiment would likely send Will running, so he kept it to himself.
“If you could change the past, then you wouldn’t be here on Anchor, would you?” he asked. The question would have been prying the day before, but it felt right in the moment. He felt a fissure of tension in the hand still resting in his own.
With a pinched expression, she answered, “No, I wouldn’t.”
Randy followed his gut on his next move. Lifting their clenched hands, he dropped a kiss on Will’s knuckles. She turned his way, but didn’t withdraw her hand.
“Maybe everything does happen for a reason,” he said, settling their hands back atop his thigh.