The Promise of Lightning

by Linda Seed

  Sandra froze, a tomato in each hand, and looked at him.

  “Well, by God, boy.”

  “I know what you’re going to say.”

  “I doubt it, son.”

  He went on as though she hadn’t spoken. “You’re going to say that I’m an idiot, and I just met her, and there’s no way I could possibly know that. And you’re right. You’re right, Sandra.”

  She turned back to her tomato plant. “Well, you might be an idiot, boy, so I won’t dispute that. But the other part? I won’t claim to tell you your business. If you say she’s it, then I figure you’re probably right.”

  Drew was so surprised by her words that he almost dropped the tomato he was holding.

  “I am?”

  “Well, hell, you might be. I’ve seen stranger things. Why, I knew I was going to marry Orin the day I met him. I told him so, too. He thought I was out of my damned mind, but here we are, going on forty years together.” She chuckled. “Serves him right for doubting me.”

  Drew had always thought of Sandra as an extremely practical woman, someone who would never entertain ideas like destiny or love at first sight. Now, having to adjust his expectations so thoroughly caused him to feel a sense of vertigo.

  “You’re kidding,” he said.

  “You ever know me to make jokes?” she snapped at him.

  “Well, no.”

  “All right, then.” She nodded. “All I’m saying is, if you think she’s the one, well, I figure that’s possible. But as poorly as things are going between her and my son, they’re still going, and you’d best wait until they’re through with each other, or you and Liam are going to get into it. Hmph. Though I expect that’s going to happen at some point, anyway.”

  Drew considered that.

  “You’re not going to tell him about this, are you?”

  She looked at him as though he’d suddenly learned to fly. “Boy, do I look like a fool to you?”

  “Well … no.”

  “That’s because I’m not. Of course I’m not going to tell him. And if you know what’s good for you, then you won’t, either.”

  He must have looked as miserable as he felt, because her expression turned to one of sympathy. “Now, buck up, son. She’ll be free sooner rather than later. I figure you won’t have long to wait.”

  But to him, even five minutes felt too long. Even a second seemed like forever.

  “I didn’t plan any of this,” he said. It seemed important to tell her that.

  “I know you didn’t. Now, what say you stop talking and start working. Those damned weeds aren’t going to pull themselves.”

  Breanna called Megan as soon as she got back from the boat trip.

  “Tell me that didn’t happen,” she said. “Tell me that I was so addled by seasickness and my hangover and having my brain baked in the sun that I imagined that text message.”

  “Oh, Bree,” Megan said miserably.

  “Alternatively, tell me that you slapped him and told him to get out.”

  “I did tell him to leave.”

  “But no slap?”

  “Well …”

  Megan was sitting on her living room sofa with Mr. Wiggles curled up on one side of her, and Bobby, the Maltese, on the other. She held the phone to her ear with one hand and stroked the cat absently with the other. Bobby lay his head on Megan’s thigh and gazed up at her adoringly.

  “Why wasn’t there a slap?” Breanna wanted to know.

  “I don’t know!” Megan wailed. “We were in my office because his cat’s sick, and we were talking about the cat, and I was about to check on him—the cat, I mean—and then the next thing I knew, Drew kind of swooped me into his arms, and we were kissing, and … and then my knees went weak, Breanna. You hear about that kind of thing happening, but my knees actually went weak. If he hadn’t been holding me up, I would have melted.”

  “So you didn’t slap him because you were too weak-kneed,” Breanna observed.

  “Yes!”

  “Megan …”

  “I know! I know it shouldn’t have happened. And it won’t happen again, at least …”

  “At least what?”

  “At least until I break up with Liam.”

  “Oh … crap,” Breanna said. “So, what I’m hearing is that you’re all gooey over Drew now, and you’re probably going to start seeing him once you dump Liam. Which is going to make it look like you dumped Liam for Drew. Which is going to make you look bad, and make Drew look bad—which he deserves, I guess, for kissing you while you’re still taken. And which is going to crush Liam’s heart like a paper cup. Because Liam might seem like this hard-ass tough guy, but he’s got a really soft heart. Which is why this really, really sucks.”

  “I know,” Megan said.

  “You could just forget about Drew,” Breanna suggested. “Just write off the kiss, figure it was one of those things, and cut off anything that’s going on with him because it’s too messy.”

  The very thought of it made Megan’s chest ache. She scooped Bobby up with her free hand and cuddled him to her for comfort.

  “I kind of don’t think I can,” she said.

  “Are you telling me you’re gone already?” Breanna demanded. “One kiss, and that’s it? You’re gone?”

  “No, I wouldn’t say that. But … I’m maybe kind of partly gone.”

  She set Bobby aside and, with the phone to her ear, began making her rounds, feeding and checking on Eddie, who was in a cage in the corner of the living room, and her other charges: Jerry, Sally Struthers, Sunshine, then finally, Bobby and Mr. Wiggles.

  Breanna sighed heavily. “Well, you might as well tell me about the kiss. It was good, obviously. But I need details.”

  They talked about that, and about their experience with kisses—both the good and the bad.

  “What’s going to happen when you see him tomorrow?” Breanna asked.

  “Tomorrow’s the bachelor party,” Megan said. “Guys only. I won’t have to see him.”

  “Yeah, but that’s at night. During the day, we’ve got the Hearst Castle tour.”

  “Oh … crap.”

  “Exactly.”

  Megan couldn’t very well skip out on the Hearst Castle thing after she’d missed the Morro Bay event today.

  “I guess I’ll just … blend into the crowd,” she said.

  Breanna grunted, a sound that was remarkably similar to Sandra’s. “Fat chance of that.”

  Chapter Twelve

  As remarkable and unlikely as it seemed, Liam had never been to Hearst Castle, the behemoth estate of William Randolph Hearst that sat just ten miles up the coast from the ranch. The site was host to some 700,000 visitors a year, but Liam had not been one of them. He and Megan were discussing that as the bus that drove visitors up the winding road to the estate passed by a small herd of zebras.

  “How can it possibly be that you’ve never visited Hearst Castle?” Megan asked, amazed by the revelation.

  “Well, why the hell would I?” he asked, irritated. “It’s for the tourists. I’m not a tourist.”

  “No, but it’s part of the history of this area. And you’re right here. You’d think—”

  “Well, you’d think wrong.”

  Liam looked to where Drew sat on the bus several rows ahead of them.

  “What’s his problem?”

  “Who?”

  “McCray. He keeps looking back here with this expression on his face like somebody killed his cat.”

  Megan didn’t look up to see Drew’s expression. She didn’t have to. It likely mirrored the one on her own face when she thought about what had happened between the two of them the day before.

  “No one did,” she said. “The cat’s doing better. Drew picked him up this morning.”

  That had been a brief and awkward encounter that Megan had kept as quick and perfunctory as possible. She’d handed Eddie over at the door with a prescription, and had said only the things she would have said to any owner of one of her vet
erinary patients.

  “Give him one of these pills twice a day, and try to avoid stressful situations,” she’d told Drew. “Full recovery might take as long as ten days. Let me know if his condition worsens.” And then she’d turned and headed back inside, closing the door behind her before he could say anything.

  But she hadn’t wanted to close the door. She’d wanted to pull him inside and kiss him again. She’d wanted to do more than kiss him. She’d wanted to find out whether the kiss was an accurate indicator of his skill in bed. And that was why she didn’t look at him now. Because if she did, he’d know what she was thinking. He probably already knew.

  “The cat thing was a metaphor,” Liam pointed out now, unnecessarily.

  “I know. I was just saying that—”

  “I got that,” he said. “But my point is, he’s staring. And if he doesn’t quit it, I’m going to knock the crap out of him.”

  They were having the murmured conversation over the recorded voice of Alex Trebek explaining the history and features of Hearst Castle to the occupants of the bus. It seemed to Megan, who was sitting in a window seat, that the bus was veering entirely too close to the edge of the winding road, beyond which was a dropoff that led down a steep hill and toward the ocean.

  Megan had never heard of a Hearst Castle bus falling off the road and into a ravine, but she supposed anything was possible. Still, looking out the window of the bus and imagining a fiery death seemed preferable to looking at Drew.

  “What the hell’s he looking at?” Liam asked again.

  “He’s probably wondering the same thing about you,” Megan snapped at him. “Can you just forget about him and focus on the tour?”

  They rode for another couple of minutes before Liam said, “I’m just jealous, I guess.”

  Megan was so surprised by this that she didn’t know what to say for a minute. Was it possible that Liam knew what had passed between her and Drew?

  “You … what?” she finally managed to say.

  “Look … I know I’m not the most sensitive guy sometimes. I know I get all wrapped up in my own stuff, the ranch and the family and all that. But, I don’t know.” He glanced back at Drew again. “That guy has a thing for you.”

  For a moment, she forgot all about the bus and the sharp turns and the steep dropoff.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Maybe because I’m not blind.” He shrugged. “He looks at you the way I did when we first met, I guess.”

  There was a poignance in it, in the wistful tone of his voice and in the acknowledgment that things had changed between them since those early days when they’d been happily in love.

  “Does he?” she said.

  “You know he does.”

  She considered whether to deny that, but decided not to. Liam wasn’t a fool. He saw what he saw, and he knew what he knew.

  “Well … maybe I’ve noticed.”

  She expected him to be defensive, possibly even hostile. But instead, he seemed to deflate a little in his seat.

  “I know things haven’t been right between us lately,” he said. “I know you want more. And I want to give it to you. I want to fix things, Megan.”

  How could she tell him that she didn’t want more from him, that she only wanted to be free? She opened her mouth to answer, but all that came out was, “We’re here.”

  The crowd on the bus stood and began to file out of the vehicle. Megan followed them, her heart beating hard in her chest.

  Liam actually seemed to be interested in the tour, which surprised Megan.

  “Holy shit. The guest house is more than five thousand square feet. That’s just the guest house! Our main house at the ranch is, what, half that?” He looked around at Casa del Mar, the largest of the Hearst Castle guesthouses, craning his neck to see the ornate ceilings. “I mean … fuck.”

  Megan considered it fortunate that this particular tour group consisted entirely of their party—with no young children around to hear Liam’s expletive except for Breanna’s children, Michael and Lucas. They’d heard Liam’s colorful language many times before and no longer seemed to care about or even notice it.

  Liam was so wrapped up in the details of the Hearst estate that he seemed to have forgotten about Drew, who was standing off in the crowd near Julia and Isabelle, sulking.

  It didn’t take much effort for her to interpret the sulk. Liam, who’d grown more possessive lately, was keeping a hand firmly on Megan during the tour—either holding her hand in his, or draping an arm around her shoulders or her waist. Each time Liam made any kind of fresh contact, Megan could feel Drew scowling and glowering at them in a way that she found both irritating and arousing.

  She began to have her doubts about whether she could keep this simmering thing she had going with Drew under wraps until after the wedding. Because if he kept this up, Liam was going to call him out on it, and once that happened, there would be no containing the fallout.

  As they filed out of the guest house, Drew began to push through the crowd to come toward them, and Megan acted quickly.

  “Liam, did you see this? They brought it in from a cathedral in France.” She pointed at a marble statue, having no idea whether what she’d just said was true.

  While Liam was looking at the statue, Megan shot a look at Drew to ward him off.

  Why was he acting this way in front of Liam?

  But even as she asked herself the question, she had some idea of the answer. After that kiss, she belonged to him in some way, and he belonged to her.

  If Drew had been here with a woman, Megan would have been glowering and scowling, too.

  Drew wondered what had made him think he could hold it together while Liam had his hands on Megan.

  And his hands were all over her, as much as they reasonably could be in public. He was either clutching her hand or resting a hand on her hip, or—God, he hated this one—cupping the back of her neck in a way that seemed unpleasantly controlling.

  Drew wanted to go over there and slap Liam’s hands away from her.

  Because he couldn’t do that, he kept up a near constant monologue in his head:

  Get your hands off her, goddamn it. Don’t you goddamn touch her.

  At a particular moment, as they were all following the guide out of the largest guest house, Liam had done the neck-cupping thing again, and Drew couldn’t contain himself anymore. He started to force his way through the group to go over there and take Megan away from him, when she fired a look at him that stopped him.

  That look said, Back the hell off.

  Could he have misinterpreted the way she’d responded to the kiss? Was it possible that she still wanted Liam? The thought made something noxious and foul roil around in his stomach.

  He didn’t want to be this guy, this lovesick stalker who couldn’t take his eyes off of a woman who was with someone else, but there it was.

  He bided his time until the official tour was over and they were all free to roam the grounds. Everyone in their group spread out, milling around near the Neptune Pool, or ogling the finely manicured gardens, or snapping pictures of the view from atop the hill.

  When Liam ducked into the restroom, leaving Megan standing alone outside the door, Drew knew he only had a minute. He swooped in, took Megan by the hand, pulled her into an alcove, and kissed her.

  He kissed her to remind her of the first kiss, the one that had been branded so indelibly on his soul. He kissed her to let her know his intentions—he wasn’t backing off, not now and not ever, as long as he thought she might want him. He kissed her to defy Liam, that smug prick. But mostly, he kissed her because he needed to, because he couldn’t do anything else.

  He kissed her thoroughly, completely, his body pressed against hers in the cool shade of the alcove. And then he stepped back, gave her a look of exquisite longing, and walked away.

  There, he thought, feeling better. That ought to do it.

  At the bachelor party that night, Colin got drunk and tried to fi
x Drew up with one of his law school friends who was in town for the wedding.

  “She’s great, man,” Colin told him, with one arm draped over Drew’s shoulders. “Beautiful, smart, funny. I used to date her for a while, back in the day.”

  “But you stopped dating her, and you probably had a reason,” Drew pointed out.

  “I did have a reason. She dumped me,” he said cheerfully. “I was kind of an asshole in law school, so that just shows her good judgment.”

  The party was being held at a bar down in San Luis Obispo, mainly because everyone was sick of Ted’s. Rather than doing the designated driver thing—because nobody wanted to get stuck with the job—Colin had hired a private bus to take everyone down the coast for the party.

  The bar was a few steps up from Ted’s in terms of cleanliness and decor, so it was more in keeping with Colin’s refined sensibilities. Classic rock blasted through the sound system, and some thirty guys who’d come down on the bus were in various stages of intoxication. Groups of Colin’s male friends and relatives were playing pool, throwing darts, drinking, and chatting up the local women with greatly varying levels of success.

  “Seriously, you should give Amanda a call,” Colin went on.

  “I think I’ll pass.”

  “But why?”

  Drew scrambled for excuses. “Well, for one thing, I live on an island more than three thousand miles away from her.” Amanda practiced law in Boston, and it seemed unlikely that they could conduct a fledgling relationship across the miles—not to mention the international border.

  “Drew, for God’s sake. You’re rich. Buy a jet.”

  Colin was undoubtedly the only Delaney who would ever offer the advice to just buy a jet. Sandra reused plastic bags and fretted over the high cost of milk.

  Drew considered pulling out the I’m not ready excuse, but it had been a few years now since his divorce, so that was unlikely to fly with Colin.

  So, he opted for the truth—or, at least, part of it.