Bahama Mama

by Tricia Leedom

  The moment went on so long it turned awkward.

  Anders shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m just saying, I appreciate all that you do, but I know I’m not your only client.”

  “You’re my biggest client.”

  “And you’re the best at what you do. I just don’t want to take you away from other folks who need your expertise.” He turned away, sliding the door open so he could step out onto the screened balcony.

  Obie didn’t look up from his comic book. His little hand turned the page and then reached to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He was so small. So innocent. And so alone.

  Suddenly, another boy was sitting in the chair. It was thirty years earlier and Anders was leaving for college. Jonas was six. Scrawny and quiet, he kept to himself and often had a book in his hands. He did that day. He didn’t acknowledge Anders when he said goodbye and kissed him on the head. He’d hated bailing on the kid, but he had to get the hell out of there for his own sanity and a football scholarship had been his ticket out.

  Jimmy used to say Jonas was born with an old soul, but truth was, he was forced to grow up real fast because he was on his own in the world pretty much from the day he was born. Jimmy and Anders had done what they could to make sure their brother was fed and changed and occasionally bathed, but they were kids themselves and didn’t know anything about babies. Anders wished he could say Jonas turned out all right, but he was just as messed up as a man could be, having been raised with no mother and a drunken bastard of a father. All grown up now, he was an ex-con with a shady past and no connection to his family. Jonas hated Anders probably for the same reasons Obie hated him.

  Anders’ hand trembled as he sat the plate down on the small table beside the lounge chair. Blinking the moisture from his eyes, he said brightly, “Hey there.”

  Obie didn’t look at him, but he glanced at the sandwich.

  “PB&J. My favorite. Yum-my. If you don’t eat it, I will.”

  The boy returned to his comic book, but after a moment, his gaze returned to the sandwich.

  “Go on. Enjoy it. I would.”

  Anders closed the sliding glass door and took a seat on the second lounger. The two chairs were tilted toward each other but facing out at the pretty view. In the distance, the afternoon sun glinted off the sails of a boat gliding parallel to the horizon on water smooth as glass. He soaked in the scenery for a few minutes, purposely not making any sudden moves. When Obie started to nibble on his sandwich, Anders felt the rush of minor triumph.

  He truly wanted to connect with the boy. Unlike the selfish teenager who’d abandoned his baby brother to pursue his own dreams. Or the stubborn new father who felt he had nothing to offer his toddler son. Anders was starting to realize that maybe just being there for the kid would be enough. The rest he’d have to make up as he went along.

  That part terrified him the most.

  He waited until Obie was about halfway through his sandwich before he spoke again. This time he modulated his tone to better reflect his sincerity. “What would you say about taking a walk with me later this afternoon after it cools down a bit? I reckon we can find a place on Duval that sells comic books.”

  The boy’s face lit with surprise as he looked directly at Anders.

  Houston, we have contact. He tried to clamp down on the emotions that made his chest swell like a balloon, but his damn eyes started watering again. “Sound like a plan?”

  The kid nodded.

  Anders grinned past the panic that flickered in his chest and nodded back.

  Chapter Seven

  The Ever After Book Shoppe was a tiny, freestanding building shrouded in tropical foliage. It was set back from Duval Street’s bustling sidewalk, and Anders would have missed the place if he hadn’t stopped to ask for directions. He’d given the street beggar some money for his trouble while Obie bent to pet his dog, a little dachshund wearing an Elvis costume.

  “This must be it,” Anders said unnecessarily, as the carved wooden sign above the door stated as much. Obie stood on tiptoe trying to peer through one of the bay windows. Anders smiled and tapped his arm. “Come on. I reckon we should see what they’ve got.”

  A little bell chimed over the door when they entered the shop. A refreshing blast of cool air swept over them as they were met with the warm scent of ink and paper. Obie tripped over a bump in the old carpet and Anders reached out to catch his shoulder, preventing him from going over.

  “Are you okay?” The question came from someone else.

  Anders looked around for the source of the voice. Two bookshelves ran the length of the deep but narrow shop, creating three neat aisles, all lined floor to ceiling with books.

  “Over here.”

  Anders found the girl nestled in the alcove of the bay window. The young teenager sat curled on a bench seat, her eyeballs fastened to the book in her lap.

  “He’s fine.” Anders turned toward the girl. “Do you work here?”

  “No, my mom’s the owner. She ran out for coffee. I’m just watching the store until she comes back.” Her gaze lifted to his face. She sat up a little straighter and closed the book. For a moment, he thought she’d recognized him. If those pink cowboy boots she was wearing were any indication, she liked country music. She didn’t say anything though, and her gaze dropped to Obie. “Can I help you find something?”

  “Comic books,” Anders answered for him. “Do you have any?”

  “Sure. They’re in the back of the store beside the cash register.” The girl set her book aside and stood up. She was tall and slender. Her sleek dark hair rested against her narrow back in a single braid. There was something familiar about her face, but he was certain he’d never seen her before. Dropping to her knees in front of Obie, she reached for the comic book he was clutching. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  She held out her hand, waiting patiently for Obie to give her the book. He stared at her for so long, Anders started to grow uncomfortable. He took a step toward them, intending to make an excuse for the boy and pull him back, but Obie released the comic book first.

  The teenager took it gingerly and studied it like an expert. “This Scrooge McDuck is a classic. Take good care of it.”

  Something lit up behind Obie’s eyes and he nodded earnestly.

  “Have you’ve read the Darkwing Duck series?”

  Obie shook his head, indicating he hadn’t.

  “It was my favorite when I was your age. He’s like Batman but a duck. It’s pretty cool. Come on. I’ll show you.”

  Obie followed the girl down the center aisle toward the back of the store. She looked back at the boy over her shoulder. “What’s your name?”

  Obie’s head turned up. Anders didn’t hear him respond even though he must have because the girl replied. “Oberon. That’s an awesome name. I’m Cheyenne. Like the capital of Wyoming.”

  Cheyenne. Like the title of Anders’ first hit single fifteen years ago.

  He was passing it off as a coincidence when the bell above the door chimed and a short woman with long, curly, red-gold hair entered the shop carrying a venti-sized cup of coffee.

  Molly MacBain.

  She stopped short when she saw him. Her violet eyes flared wide and her pretty mouth went slack for a moment before she attempted to pull herself together. “Um, hello.”

  “Hi there.” He grinned.

  The color drained from her face, making the light dusting of freckles across the top of her cheekbones stand out in contrast. Her chin quivered as she attempted to smile back but failed miserably. He caught a glimpse of those intriguing dimples again before she darted a nervous glance toward the back of the store where Cheyenne and Obie knelt in front of the comic book rack.

  She was kinda cute for a redhead.

  Anders pursed his lips, fighting a smile and cocked an eyebrow. “We meet again.”

  She teetered on her high heels and took an awkward sidestep to catch herself.

  “Easy now.” Ande
rs put his hands up in defense. He’d already worn one cup of coffee today.

  She frowned, confusion evident on her face. “Can I help you with something?”

  “Well, for starters, you can put that cup of Joe down nice and slow.”

  She looked at the cup she was holding as if she’d just realized it was in her hand. She shook her head in mild exasperation and walked past him, heading toward the back. “You took me by surprise is all. I’m pretty certain I’m not the first fan to lose my head over you.”

  “Nope. But I’m pretty sure you’re the first to lose her lunch.”

  She tsked at the reminder, drawing a wider smile from him. She might be nervous as all get out, but she still had sass. He liked that.

  As he followed her down the narrow aisle, his gaze was drawn to something else he liked. The small, full bottom nestled into a pair of snug white pants. Molly was about four inches taller thanks to the high heels that added a nice little sway to her strut. She glanced back at him and his eye caught the curve of her firm, full breast, which was accented by the tightness of her red top.

  She quirked an auburn brow. “Is there something I can do for you?”

  If the kids hadn’t been in earshot, he might have responded with a flirty comment guaranteed to make her blush. He bit his tongue instead and averted his gaze from her shapely, compact, little body.

  When she reached the counter, she sat her cup beside the cash register.

  He glanced at Obie and the girl named Cheyenne. “My son was looking for some new comic books.”

  “Well, he’s talking to the right person. Cheyenne was addicted to them when she was his age.”

  Obie was on his feet now, juggling at least a dozen comics.

  Molly hurried to help him, catching the slipping stack before he dropped it. “Hey there, cowboy, looks like you found something you like. Whatcha got there?” Kneeling, she gave Obie a dazzling dimpled smile that made Anders’ breath hitch. He only caught the periphery, but it was enough. Warmth buzzed in his belly and his libido quivered with interest.

  Oberon stared at Molly with a startled, owl-eyed expression Anders had never seen on his face before. Once again, he felt compelled to rescue his son from an awkward situation, but the boy answered for himself in a barely audible voice. “I’m not a cowboy.”

  “Why aren’t you?”

  “I’m from California.”

  Molly let out a deep, unguarded chortle that was quite endearing. Obie must have thought so too because his face lit up with a giggle.

  The sound coming from his son took Anders’ breath away.

  “You think they don’t have cowboys in California?” Molly asked him. “Shoot, you bet they do. Ain’t that right, Cheyenne?”

  The girl nodded. “Cattle ranching is prevalent in California.” She rested her hands on Obie’s shoulders. “This is Oberon, Ma. Isn’t that a cool name?”

  “Sure is.” She smiled at her daughter. “Is that from Greek mythology?”

  Obie pushed his oversized glasses up the bridge of his nose while still trying to juggle the bundle in his arms. “It’s from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. My mom’s favorite play. Oberon is the king of the fairies.”

  Cheyenne’s mouth formed a neat little O. “That. Is. So. Awesome. Ma, why didn’t you name me after something of sentimental significance?”

  Molly stood up. She was still a couple inches shorter than her daughter even with the high heels. “I like your name just fine, Cheyenne Dallas MacBain.”

  “I have to agree.” Anders watched Molly’s face. “Cheyenne’s a pretty name.”

  When Molly glanced at him, her eyes flared slightly before she shied away again. “Do you know who this is, Cheyenne? I’m surprised you haven’t said anything.”

  “Anders Ostergaard,” the girl said matter-of-factly.

  Molly’s forehead knit with disbelief. “Okay. I just thought you’d be…” her voice trailed off as Cheyenne blinked at her with a calm, unimpressed expression. “Never mind. Why don’t you take Oberon up to the front of the store where he can sort through the books and pick the ones he wants to take.”

  Obie hesitated, his steady gaze expectant as if he was waiting for something from Anders. Was he asking for permission? Shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, Anders gestured with his chin. “Go on. I’ll be right here.”

  Cheyenne guided Obie in front of her and then hesitated for a moment. “Ma?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Be cool.”

  Molly tsked again as the Cheyenne followed the boy down the center aisle.

  “Be cool,” Molly muttered as she moved behind the counter and sat on a stool. “Is there anything you’re interested in, Mr. Ostergaard?”

  He turned toward Molly. “Call me Anders. Please.”

  Her gaze met his for a second before slipping away. She was trembling almost imperceptibly. He hated making her so nervous, but he wasn’t sure what he could do to put her at ease.

  She took a sip of her coffee and set it down again. “Do you like to read? I can recommend a book for you if you’d like? We have a large selection of science fiction…” Her voice trailed off when their gazes collided. She didn’t recoil this time, but the strain around her eyes that suggested she was trying to work through her discomfort. She swallowed hard. “I read somewhere that you like science fiction movies so, um, I thought maybe that extended to your book preferences as well.”

  “I don’t read a lot. Don’t usually have time for it, but since I’m on a forced vacation maybe I should start.”

  “Well, what kind of science fiction do you like? First contact? Post-apocalyptic? Time travel? Space opera?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t have a preference.” And he’d probably never get around to reading the book. He was just being polite.

  “Okay.” She slid off her stool and went to the shelf on the far wall opposite the counter. Three rows of forward-facing paperbacks were numbered one through ten. “These are our top fifteen best-selling sci-fi fantasy books right now. This one here is really popular. I can hardly keep it in stock.” She brought the thick paperback novel to the counter and set it in front of him. “It’s basically a teenage boy meets alien girl, alien girl’s family wants to wipe out the earth kind of story.”

  “Sounds great. I’ll take it.”

  “Super.”

  They stared at each other. When the awkward silence stretched between them like a widening sinkhole, Anders cleared his throat. He was usually better at chatting with fans. Or maybe they were better at launching questions at him. No, that wasn’t true. He often got the star-struck ones who didn’t say a word. He didn’t reckon that was Miss Molly’s problem. If anything, it felt like she was holding back, like a geyser suppressing its natural urge to let-her-rip.

  He reached for his wallet, withdrew a gold card, and placed it on the counter. Obie appeared at his side with the entire stack of comic books, not one book lighter than before. He pushed them up on the high counter and then blinked at Anders.

  Cheyenne came up behind him. “He couldn’t decide which ones he wanted. It would have been a tough choice for me too.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of Anders’ mouth. He held it back though and peered down at his son gravely. “Are you going to read all of these, cowboy?” he said, intentionally adding the nickname Molly used.

  Obie nodded.

  “Well, I don’t see why we can’t buy them all.” Anders was a goner. He’d be broke within a year if the kid ever figured out his old man couldn’t say no to him.

  “What a good dad you have.” Molly shot her thousand-watt smile at Obie again.

  The boy nodded, staring at her mesmerized.

  Obie’s agreement struck Anders right between the ribcage. No matter the praise was coerced by a pair of fine dimples. Or that he didn’t deserve it. Buying the kid a few comic books didn’t make up for years of being absent from his son’s life.

  “Gentlemen always say thank you,” Molly cont
inued, pressing the issue. “Thank your father, young man.” She spoke to Oberon sternly but with kindness, just the way Anders’ mama used to speak to him whenever he behaved like an idiot.

  Anders shook his head. “It’s fine.”

  But Molly MacBain had cast some sort of spell over his son. The boy tilted his head back to stare up at him. His soft voice was barely louder than a whisper, but Anders heard it clear enough. “Thank you, sir.” The words wrapped around Anders’ heart and squeezed tightly.

  He wanted to drop to his knees and hug the boy, but he didn’t want to freak him out so he refrained and just enjoyed his son’s smile as he admired his new comic books.

  “Gentlemen also always say you’re welcome.”

  Anders pulled his gaze away from Obie and blinked at the sassy redheaded woman who was waiting expectantly.

  She shrugged. “Just saying.” She graced him with her dazzling dimpled smile before she turned away to ring up his purchases.

  “You’re welcome, son,” Anders said softly, resting his hand on top of Obie’s head.

  Cheyenne waved for Obie to follow her. “Let’s go sit outside in the courtyard while they’re finishing up.”

  Anders gestured for Obie to go on. The boy grabbed the shopping bag full of comic books off the counter and ran after his new friend.

  “It was nice meeting you again, Molly.” He said as he signed the credit card receipt. As an afterthought, he held up the pen. “Did you want an autograph? Or a selfie or something?”

  Rosy color bloomed in her cheeks again, but her mouth twisted wryly as she waved the receipt. “I’ve got your autograph. But I’ll take a raincheck on the selfie.” She gestured with her chin. “I’ve got customers waiting.”

  He glanced back to discover there were two people standing in line behind him and he was holding everybody up. Bemused at himself for not noticing other people had come into the shop, he grinned. “Some other time then. See you around, Miss Molly.” He added a wink out of habit and scooped up his new book before he strolled out of the shop.