I prowled around the lobby and office, checking on windows. I hauled one of the smaller potted palms inside. If nothing else, it was company. I got a beer from the small fridge in my uncle’s office and parked myself on the aqua vinyl sofa to watch the Weather Channel until either the storm passed or I went insane. I started to feel lonely. Vulnerable. Stupid.
I still had half a beer left when the door leading to the first floor set of rooms wrenched open.
“Just checking on you,” Skip said. “Staying here alone isn’t the smartest thing.”
“Coming out in the storm isn’t so smart either. And anyway, I’m prepared.”
“Do you have any food and water?”
“Vending machines are stocked. The guy came yesterday.”
Skip gave me a look I’d seen the slower kids in school get from teachers all the time.
“That’s your big plan?”
“I can live on pretzels and cookies for a few days if I have to. I even got cash and quarters to have ready.”
“You know those don’t work when the power’s out. Right?”
I focused on the latest weather map, hoping it would somehow erase my stupidity and replace it with either drama or good news. I’d take either one.
It was the same thing they’d been showing us for hours, and Barefoot Key looked to be directly in the path of the storm. Unless you believed an alternative model the ecstatic forecaster flipped to briefly. I had the impression he wanted to see Barefoot Key get it. Maybe I was just being sensitive as a result of feeling like a total dumbass.
“I thought I’d break the glass in case of emergency, like if I need a Milky Way or a Diet Coke. I’m in charge of the place. I can do that,” I said.
Skip sat next to me on the vinyl couch and watched the screen, chin in hands. I could tell he was shirtless under his rain slicker. That wouldn’t be sexy on most men, but something about it made me want to peel off the outer layer and see what Skip had to offer me.
I thought it was a reasonable idea considering I might die in the impending hurricane.
“Where are you staying tonight?” I asked.
“Next door. Don’t want to leave my bar, and I have a pretty decent shelter I already invited you to.”
“Why don’t you want to leave your bar?”
He sat back. “Because it’s the first thing I ever owned. Hell, it’s the only thing I own. Aside from a very used Jeep.”
“So you see why I don’t want to leave The Gull.”
“Nope.”
“I feel responsible for it. Like you and the Pirate Emporium.”
“Beach Shack. And it’s not the same thing. You don’t own The Gull.”
I wanted to argue, but the television screen beeped and a scrolling message in a fiery red box grabbed our attention. The message could be paraphrased like something out of Dante’s Divine Comedy. Abandon all hope and kiss your ass goodbye.
“I wish you’d lock the doors, get your coat, and come next door with me. I’ve got food, water, and flashlights. And it’s going to be a long night.”
I hesitated.
“I promise I’ll come back over here with you at first light to assess the damage,” Skip said. “I’ve worked for your aunt and uncle a long time. They know hurricanes, and they would think you were out of your mind for trying to be a hero.”
A building-shaking gust of wind hit The Gull on the beach side and I gave up the fight practically before the first battle. I remoted the television off, grabbed my purse from the office, and unplugged the computer.
“Right behind you,” I said.
The wind had continued to pick up, buffeting me as soon as I hit the doorway. Skip wrapped one powerful arm around me and steered me the short distance to his bar. Whipping sand stung my face and I felt like I was half floating. Bundling me through the door, he closed and barred it by shoving a heavy table in front of the wood door. He leaned on the bar while I took a glance around. Despite construction supplies and a general state of confusion, the bar retained much the same look I’d grown up with.
“I remember coming over here a few times on vacation. Used to get a Coke before I was old enough to drink.”
“Remember old Harvey?”
I nodded. “What happened to him?”
“Retired. Signed over the paperwork, handed me the keys, and took off for a vacation home in Tennessee. Guess he’d had enough of hurricane weather.”
“Can’t blame him,” I said. “What made you decide to buy this place?”
“Needed to do something. Never told you, but I’ve got a business degree, too. Community college, just a two-year thing, but it got me thinking. Fishing isn’t going anywhere, and I always had a soft spot for this place.”
“Why?”
“Dad used to bring me here. Probably the reason Harvey was willing to sell it to me. Didn’t want it to go to some outsider.”
I thought about that for a minute. “Am I an outsider here?”
“Nope. You’re related.”
Somehow, I found that encouraging.
“I have some good memories of Harvey’s,” Skip continued, absentmindedly wiping off the bar surface with his wet raincoat. He grinned at me. “Had an awesome date a while back that started here.”
I didn’t need to ask how that ended, flattering myself that he meant me. Not that I knew anything about the rest of his love life, but I liked to think I’d ruined him for all other women after our one night together.
A strong gust of wind bracketed the windows and howled between his building and the end of The Gull. Despite my determination to be brave, I shivered and zipped my hoodie a little higher.
Skip’s eyes were on me, not the worn bar now. “Show you the shelter,” he said, draping an arm over my shoulders and turning me toward the kitchen. He led me through a kitchen that was missing most of its appliances, gaping holes where they had once stood.
“Major need to modernize those. No idea how they ever passed health inspections,” he said. “That was a no-choice big expense and it’s a real pain in the ass. They keep backing up the ship date and I can’t move on with construction in here until I get appliances. Luckily I have one functioning oven and I got a carry-out pizza earlier today. We can heat it up later when we get hungry.”
“What kind of pizza?” I asked, even though I was in no position to be picky.
“Your favorite. Bacon and black olives.”
So Skip had been thinking of me when he picked up that pizza. “You don’t like black olives,” I said.
“We’re in a weather emergency. I’ll pick them off.”
Skip’s walk-in cooler wasn’t any more glamorous than advertised. Aside from a case of bottled water and two sleeping bags rolled out in the middle of the floor, it was mostly a graveyard of old junk. A battery-operated lantern provided enough light to check the corners for spiders—a necessity if I planned to get any sleep. Not that I planned to.
He motioned me in and pulled the heavy door shut.
“How will we get out?” I asked, panic raising my voice twelve decibels higher than it needed to be in the small space. “I’ve seen this in movies, people getting trapped in coolers. Happens all the time.”
“Only to idiots. This door is also keyed from the inside, and I—” he paused dramatically, making a big show of digging in his front pants pockets and forcing my eyes down there, “have the key right here.”
I sighed. I hated to admit how much safer I felt with Skip, especially since he’d prepared with a key and sleeping bags and pizza. You can’t buy that kind of confidence.
“So now what do we do?” I asked.
Skip slow-smiled and leaned against the cooler door. “Taking suggestions.”
I pulled out my cell phone. “Any reception in here? I could track the storm with my phone.”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” he said in a mock serious tone. “Pretty sure the reception is better the lower you go.”
I gave him a look.
�
�I’ll show you,” he said. He shrugged out of his raincoat and tossed it over a box. Then he sprawled out on a sleeping bag, crossing his arms behind his head so I could admire his bare chest.
I attempted to look disinterested, glancing at my phone and trying to update the radar. A yellow bar told me my network was unavailable. Great. I was hunkered down in a hurricane wondering if and when it would hit. There could be tornadoes, too, and how would I know when to put my hands over my head if I couldn’t see the Weather Channel?
My eyes strayed to Skip’s front pants pocket that bulged with a rectangle the size of a phone.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said.
“I’m sure you don’t.”
“You’re wondering if the phone in my pocket has any service.”
“Maybe I was admiring the bulge in your pants,” I said, hoping ridiculous with a trace of truth was the right tone.
“Easier to admire from down here. And you can test the theory.”
I hesitated. Stuck in a cooler with Skip who was half old friend and three-quarters crush mixed with one all-the-way fling. The math didn’t add up and that makes me crazy. The air pressure from the storm combined with the enclosed space made my head feel too light. Getting down on the floor was the safest move. It was the savvy choice.
I knelt on the sleeping bag next to Skip as a half-measure. A test. I glanced at my phone so he would know my move was purely scientific. Not surprisingly, altitude had nothing to do with reception.
“I could text Rita and ask for updates. I bet that would work,” I said.
Skip nodded, never taking his eyes off me.
I sat on my sleeping bag, one of my feet straying onto his as I tapped in a brief message to Rita, hoping it might slide out of the cooler on a slice of bandwidth.
“Feel better?” Skip asked.
I nodded.
“Did you tell Rita you were locked in the cooler with me and that’s why you can’t see the weather radar?”
“No.”
My phone beeped. It was a message from Rita. All it said was, “Does Skip have his shirt off?”
It beeped again. Another text from Rita. “Sure you want interruptions?”
Skip grinned. “Updates already?”
I idled my phone to save the battery and set it on an overturned plastic crate.
“Always good to have Rita on your side,” Skip commented. “I’ll have to tell her tomorrow how much I appreciated it.”
I crossed my ankles and sat back on my elbows. Skip rolled up on one arm, edging closer and giving me his full attention.
“Hope you’re not scared.”
I shook my head. “Nope. Just worried about The Gull.”
“Nothing you can do about it.”
“But I’m still allowed to worry.”
“I could take your mind off your problems,” he offered.
I knew he wasn’t bluffing. His hands had talent. He had proven that over years of maintenance magic at the motel. There had been ironclad proof last spring when a night out with a few friends over my last college spring break had turned into multiple hookups. My friends met some local boys they hardly knew while I ended up in the sack with someone who’d been raising my awareness and heart rate for as long as I’d known him.
Skip unzipped his sleeping bag and spread it wider. He reached over and unzipped mine. I sent him a questioning look.
“Getting comfortable. Gonna be a long night.”
I scooched onto his open sleeping bag and let him pull my unzipped one over me. It was cold on the concrete floor. I reasoned there was no sense freezing, and our minds would be sharper if we were both warm. I might even be able to take off my hoodie eventually if I thought I could stay warm in just my tank top. I applauded myself for my logical thinking.
Right until Skip pulled off his work boots, settled in beside me, and stretched out full length against me. This was no place for logic.
“Much better,” he said.
As his guest, I didn’t think it was my place to argue. There had been many a lonely night in my cold twin bed on campus. I’d had plenty of time to fantasize about Skip.
It had been a hell of a vindication to find out he was just as tasty as I’d been imagining for years.
But now was no time to think about that unless I wanted to sample him all over again.
I inched backward, leaving a little space between us as I toed off my shoes. “I’m guessing you’ve ridden out your share of hurricanes,” I said.
“Uh-huh. Used to be scared when I was little. All that loud wind. My dad would always try to rush out and check on his fishing boat and Mom would be in a panic until he got back.”
“How often did this happen?”
“About once a year we get a serious tropical storm, major hurricanes only a few times in my life and they usually just grazed us.”
I thought about that and hoped it would be the case with this one, too.
“Hope this one does too,” he said.
I smiled. I was already used to Skip voicing exactly what I was thinking.
“How about you? Any big storms growing up in Michigan?”
“Tornado sirens once in a while, but never a direct hit in our town. Snowstorms are more likely.”
“But not scary,” he said.
“Not when you’re a kid and you’re looking at a few days off school.”
“Sounds like fun. I’ve never played in snow.”
“Never?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“Not even on a vacation?”
“Vacation is right here,” he said.
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” I said. “Sledding, building snowmen, getting ice and snow down the back of your neck until you finally remember to put up your hood.” I shivered thinking about it.
“I prefer heat.” Skip moved in, securing the sleeping bag over me and holding it in place with one long arm. His warmth and scent enveloped me and thoughts of the cold melted away.
Chapter Nine
I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when I decided having sex with Skip McComber for the second time in my life was a good idea. I think the idea took root when I accepted his offer of a shelter for two for the night. I’m pretty savvy, but my powers of resistance are no greater than anyone else’s. A dish of chocolate candies won’t last five minutes in front of me, and I’d already exhausted my Skip resistance completely in the month I’d been in Barefoot Key.
If I was going to die in a hurricane, I was going out satisfied.
His kiss did not surprise me. I felt it coming even with my eyes closed. It was the kind of kiss that erased my sense of fear about the hurricane outside. It removed any sense of discretion I might have felt upon being slowly stripped my clothing. The kiss eradicated any common sense.
And I was glad to see it go. Here snuggled in sleeping bags riding out a storm, there was no room for any senses that weren’t directly involved with bodily pleasure.
We repeated the dance of flesh on flesh that we’d experienced six months ago, and my heated remembering of it wasn’t exaggerated. It was the kind of sex that makes you quiver just thinking about it when you least expect it. Like standing in the grocery store line or crowding into an elevator.
I’d thought about Skip a lot in the half a year that had passed. Every time I did it, I’d glance around hoping no one could guess my thoughts.
Now, it was going to be twice as bad. Maybe three times if we had to be hunkered down all night.
Rita beeped in with a text update just when we’d dozed off, oblivious to the outside world and the winds bracketing the bar beyond our shelter.
“Winds weakening, eye turning inland, worst hitting south of us,” the text said.
I texted back a brief thanks and relayed the news to Skip. We were in total darkness, the lantern switched off to conserve batteries just in case.
He yawned. “Still going to be strong storms on the outer bands this side of the storm. Be
tter stay put. Unless you want me to heat up that pizza.”
I shook my head. I was happy to burrow into a Skip shelter and forget everything. Tomorrow, I could claim it was the storm. Just in case anyone asked me to explain myself. I seriously doubted anyone would. Rita wouldn’t even have to ask. Except maybe she’d enjoy some salacious details if we weren’t too busy picking palm trees out of the swimming pool.
For tonight, I just wanted to enjoy doing something that had nothing to do with being Savvy.
Electronic beeping registered somewhere on the edge of my thoughts but I ignored it. I kept my eyes closed, hoping it would go away. Skip stirred and I heard his cell phone flip open and shut, but I didn’t even bother to ask.
“Text from my dad saying same thing Rita’s did,” he muttered.
For a moment, it occurred to me I didn’t have to expose my situation to Rita’s gossip since Skip was in communication with his dad the whole time, but I gave up that train of thought. Rita would have found out anyway, and it was probably good I’d have someone to talk this over with in the morning.
We awoke hours later. Skip rolled over and flung an arm across my chest, pinning me down and leaving a stream of warmth where his bare skin met mine.
“How long could we hide in here before someone came looking?” he mumbled.
I considered it, wondering how much damage we’d find when we emerged. “No one’s looking for me,” I said. “My relatives are all in another state.”
“No matter what we find when we go outside,” Skip said, his voice low and tremulous in the darkness, “this was the best night I’ve ever had.”
I wanted to think of an intelligent response, but I settled for the bone-deep truth instead. “Me too,” I whispered. “Unless you count spring break last year.”
Skip chuckled and pulled me tighter.
I sighed. “I hate the thought of going out there, but my aunt and uncle are going to want to know right away. They were probably up half the night.”
“Think I’ll probably dig out my insurance policy first. It’ll soften the blow,” Skip said.
“Does insurance cover hurricane damage?”
“Sure does. That’s what I’m counting on.”
Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set Page 119