“Absolutely. And it looks like you’re doing a fine job of it,” Luke countered.
Luke was jealous of Wyatt. Sara thought it was so ridiculous, she could hardly believe it. No wonder it had taken her this long to realize what was really going on.
“Luke, you don’t have to be jealous about Wyatt.”
“Who ever said I was?” he asked in a quiet tone edged with anger.
“Well, you seem like you might be. Or you might think that something is going on between us, and it’s just not true. I mean, he’s just my boss. We were just sitting there talking. I don’t even like him very much. I mean, most of the time.” She shrugged. She didn’t know what else to say.
She thought her words would reassure him. Instead, they seemed to make him angrier. “Yeah, you were just talking. You don’t even like the guy.” He looked down at the ground and shook his head. “Come on, Sara. I’m not blind. You were sitting so close you were practically in his lap. You like that guy, at least admit it.”
“I do not. I mean, not like you mean,” she insisted.
He really was jealous, she realized. For a moment, she felt flattered. Then she felt annoyed and strangely smothered. She knew Luke running into her tonight had been a coincidence, but she still felt cornered. And she didn’t like that feeling at all.
They had reached her car, and she pulled out her keys and unlocked the door.
“Look, I’m not going to argue with you about this. It’s just too . . . silly. I don’t have a crush on my boss. Let’s just leave it at that, okay?”
“All right, if you say so,” he replied, in an infuriatingly reasonable tone.
She didn’t entirely like his answer. Or the look on his face, which seemed to suggest that she was protesting too much—not only trying to convince Luke she wasn’t attracted to Wyatt, but also trying to convince herself.
But she didn’t feel like arguing with him any further about this. Which really would make it seem as if he was, in fact, right, she fumed.
“I’m tired. I’m going home. Good night, Luke,” she said curtly.
“Okay, good night.” He nodded. Then he said, “What about Sunday? Still want to go out?”
She met his gaze and looked away. She was annoyed—but she wasn’t that mad at him. She found the worried look on his face suddenly endearing.
“Of course I do—even though you’re sort of thick sometimes,” she replied, with a grin.
As she got in her car and closed the door, she saw the corner of his mouth lift in a hesitant smile.
Sara drove away, catching a glimpse of Luke in her rearview mirror, still standing on the sidewalk with his hands deep in his coat pockets. She felt as if she had a lot to think about.
Luke’s jealousy had surprised her. Mainly because she really felt he had nothing to be jealous about. But now she had to wonder: Was he right? Did she like Wyatt more than she realized?
Well, whether she liked him or not, nothing had happened, so she had nothing to feel bad about. They had just talked over coffee. Wyatt was the talkative type. The opposite of Luke. It didn’t mean anything, she told herself. Still, she had to admit, she felt flattered by his interest. The things he’d said about her. He had made her feel interesting and attractive, Sara thought.
That did seem like something to think about.
“EMILY, THANKS FOR COMING.” LINDSAY GREETED HER AT THE DOOR, wearing a red wool coat. She looked both ready and eager to go out, Emily thought. “I hope this wasn’t any bother for you. I’m not wrecking your Saturday, am I?”
“No, not at all. I was thinking of Dan when you called. Wondering how he was doing, I mean,” Emily said, as she stepped inside.
It was actually a half-truth. She’d also been wondering if she was being a fool by pursuing this relationship. Sometimes it seemed so obvious that she would only end up hurt.
But when Lindsay called asking for her help, she couldn’t resist offering to come over. It had almost seemed . . . well, like a sign.
“He’s okay, isn’t he?” Emily asked, as she dropped her coat and hat on a nearby chair.
“Well, yes—and no.” Lindsay’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “I think this recovery process is getting to him. He’s really been down these last few days. Won’t shave. Will hardly change his clothes or move out of that room. Last night he didn’t eat his dinner, and this morning, he hardly touched breakfast. Scott made his favorite, too, banana pancakes.”
“Is he sick? Maybe he’s coming down with something.”
“He doesn’t have a temperature. No other symptoms, either. Just grouchy. Wow, is he grouchy,” Lindsay warned her.
Emily smiled. “Don’t worry. I can handle him.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” Emily assured her. “I’m glad you called me,” she said honestly.
She was pleased to see that her friendship with Dan’s daughter had grown to the point where Lindsay trusted her enough to ask a favor. And she hated the idea of Dan feeling so down and being alone in the house, so she was glad for the chance to cheer him up.
“You go,” she told Lindsay. “I’ll stay here with him until you get back. It’ll be fine, I promise.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate this,” Lindsay said. “My cell-phone number is on the fridge if you need me,” she called over her shoulder. “See you later.”
“See you,” Emily called back. She waited a moment until the door was closed before heading for the family room. The small living room was almost completely overwhelmed by a medium-size Christmas tree. Emily stepped around it, careful not to knock off any of the ornaments.
The house was perfectly quiet. She didn’t even hear the incessant murmur of the TV usually tuned to the all-news or all-sports channel—or all news and sports—whenever she came here.
She reached the doorway and saw Dan stretched out on the sofa. He looked as though he were sleeping, with an open newspaper covering his head. She stepped over and watched him for a long moment. The newspaper rose and fell with his deep, slow breaths.
“Dan, are you asleep?” Emily asked softly. She leaned over the couch and lifted the newspaper that covered his face and chest.
He didn’t move for a moment, then slowly opened one eye and peered at her. “Oh, it’s you. I thought it was Lindsay again.”
Emily stood up and tried to look annoyed but couldn’t help grinning a little. “Why were you pretending to be asleep?”
He sat up and sighed. “So they would all just leave me alone. I thought that was apparent,” he said grumpily.
He ran his hand through his hair, making it even messier. He still needed a haircut, worse than ever, Emily noticed. But somehow he managed to look attractive to her, in a ruffian sort of way. Today she’d brought along her scissors. Maybe he would submit to a trim.
Lindsay had warned her about his beard, but it still came as a shock. She’d seen him only days ago. When had this happened? She studied his face, not sure if she liked it.
“So, why are you here? Did Lindsay call you?”
Emily avoided his gaze. “Actually, I came over for some tea and sympathy. I’ll have to make the tea, I guess,” she said. “Have you seen today’s Messenger?”
He stared at her a minute, thinking. “Oh . . . that.” Dan struggled and finally sat up, then rubbed the back of his neck. “They really gave it to you, didn’t they?”
“Do you mean the town council or your newspaper?” she asked lightly.
“It’s not my paper anymore. It’s Wyatt’s,” he said, sounding grouchy again. “I couldn’t help but notice the byline.” He glanced up at her. “Whatever made Wyatt send Sara to cover that story?”
“Well, he couldn’t have known it was going to get so ugly. I certainly didn’t.” She sat on the end of the couch. “Sooner or later Sara has to cover events that I’m involved in. It’s unavoidable.”
“Have you talked about it?”
“She called me first thing this morning—I was still half aslee
p—to apologize. She felt terrible about it.”
“What did you say?” Dan asked curiously.
Emily shrugged. “I told her it was a very good story, and I was proud of her. I knew it was difficult for her to write. I could see it on her face at the meeting. It was difficult for her to just sit there and watch. She’s been working so hard at the paper these last few weeks. She sounded awful. I’m sure the poor girl is coming down with something.”
Dan shook his head. “Emily, you sound just like a mother now—and nothing like a mayor. But it still must have hurt a little.”
She met his eye and nodded. “It was . . . a little tough. She didn’t leave much out.”
“So what are you going to do about this mess?” Dan asked.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Warren is getting in touch with the federal office that awarded the grant. If they don’t help us out, we’re back to square one. I suppose the council will vote to file a lawsuit.”
“That would be a disaster,” Dan said, sounding alarmed. She noticed that old gleam in his eye—the way he looked back when he was running the Messenger, working a story. He was really like a fish out of water, away from that newspaper office. He just hadn’t figured it out yet. “You can’t sue the county,” he told her. “It would be an even bigger mess than this one.”
“That’s what I said—right here on page five, paragraph two,” she pointed out, handing the paper to him. She rubbed her forehead. “I’m pretty clear on what we shouldn’t do. What I don’t know is what will help at this point.”
“I don’t know, either,” Dan admitted. “But this isn’t your fault. It’s unfair of anyone to say that. Don’t worry. We’ll think of something.”
She wondered if they really could. After his years on the paper, Dan had one of the more politically savvy minds in town. Not that she expected Dan or anyone else to solve this for her. Still, just the way he stood up for her and said, “We’ll think of something,” made her feel instantly better. “Thanks, Dan,” she said quietly.
“Don’t mention it.” He met her gaze and smiled, an intimate kind of smile that warmed her heart. “How about in the meantime we have a game of chess?”
“How about in the meantime, I give you a haircut?” she countered brightly. She picked up her purse and took out the scissors. “These are genuine barber’s shears. I’m quite good at this, I promise.”
Dan put his hands over his hair, looking horrified. “No way are you getting near me with those things.”
“Dan, you’re being silly. You really need a trim,” she told him.
“I know I need a trim. The question is, who’s going to see me? Who is going to care if I grow my hair down to my knees?”
“Wouldn’t that be a sight.” Emily smiled at the image. “Did you have a ponytail in college?” she asked curiously.
“A little shaggy around the edges maybe, but no ponytail,” he replied.
“I didn’t think so,” she said, laughing at his indignant tone. “So, you’re not trying to relive your lost youth or something like that?”
“Just plain old cabin fever. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Oh well, I know the cure for that.” Emily put the scissors away and stood up. “We need to get you out of the house. I think it’s time.” She took his hand. “Come on, get up.”
“I can’t go out. Are you crazy?”
“I’m not worried about myself. But you’re definitely going to be insane if you stay cooped up in here for much longer. Come on,” she urged, “you can do it.”
He shook his head, but she held his hand and looked into his eyes, and something in her gaze seemed to melt his resistance.
“Where would we go?” he asked, looking suddenly intrigued by the notion.
“Where would you like to go? How about out to the beach? Or into town?”
“The beach—that would be perfect,” he agreed, sounding suddenly excited. “But town would be nice, too.”
“We’ll do both then.”
Dan grinned and pushed himself up with his good arm while Emily reached out to steady him. He leaned forward and was suddenly upright but looked as if he were about to tip over. Emily quickly put her arm around his waist and held on to him. She had forgotten how tall he was.
“This isn’t so bad. I think I like it a lot better than crutches,” he said, smiling down at her. His good arm was curled around her shoulders, and his face was so close to her own that his beard brushed against her cheek.
She met his gaze for a moment, then looked away, feeling her cheeks flush. She could tell he noticed and was trying to pretend he didn’t.
Why did she still have to blush like a teenager, for goodness’ sake? She was forty-two years old.
“I’ll help you to the wheelchair,” she said.
Finally, they hobbled over to the wheelchair and eased Dan into it.
“You need to dress warmly. It’s cold outside. Where are your things?” she asked him.
Dan told her where to find a sweater, his parka, scarf, and gloves, and Emily helped him put them on. She was soon dressed for the outdoors, too, and boldly took hold of the wheelchair’s handles.
“I think we ought to take the crutches, too. We might need them,” she decided.
“Oh, all right, if you insist. I liked the other arrangement though, just fine,” he teased her. “Wait, I want to leave a note for Lindsay.” Emily brought him paper and a pen from his desk and watched as he quickly scrawled in block letters:
Finally escaped. I’m a free man. I’ll be in touch. Love, Dad.
“How’s that?”
“Perfect. I’ll leave it right here, where she won’t miss it,” she promised, propping the note up on the TV set.
Out at her Jeep, it took some maneuvering to get Dan into the backseat and the folded wheelchair into the cargo area, but Emily managed.
It was a clear, windless day and quite warm in the sun for mid-December. When they reached the beach, she pulled up to the beginning of a wooden walkway that stretched across the sand to the shoreline.
She got the wheelchair out first, then helped Dan out and into the chair with a fair amount of tugging, huffing, and puffing that made them both laugh.
“Fasten your seat belt; it’s going to be bumpy ride,” Emily warned, pushing with all her might on the back of the chair.
“Emily—whoa!” Dan gripped the arms of the chair, as the wheels thudded over the uneven wooden boards.
“Hey, this thing can really roll,” she observed, as the wheelchair picked up speed.
“No kidding. I’m going to end up in the ocean if you don’t watch out,” he warned, as the end of the walkway quickly drew closer.
Emily tried to slow the chair with her body weight, but Dan weighed more and the walkway slanted downhill, toward the shoreline. Emily found herself hanging on for dear life, fighting the almost overpowering force of gravity and hoping Dan wouldn’t end up headfirst in the nearest sand dune.
“Doesn’t this thing have brakes?” she called out to him.
“Somewhere around here—” He reached down to the side of the chair and started moving levers. “I never really needed them around the house.”
“Well, you need them now!”
Inches from the end of the walkway Dan found the right lever, and the wheelchair jerked to a stop.
Emily sat down next to him on the wooden planks, so out of breath she could hardly speak.
“Well, that was fun,” he said dryly. “How do you plan to terrorize me next?”
She looked up and laughed at him. “Oh, stop complaining. You enjoyed it. I can tell. Besides, you need me to push you back up that hill, so you’d better be a little nicer.”
He glanced back over his shoulder. “That is a steep hill. No wonder we were heading into warp speed.”
He turned again and faced the ocean. He didn’t speak and Emily felt no pressure to, either. She stared out at the water, feeling the tensions of last night and her current work cr
isis drain away.
“It does wonders for you, this place. Just sitting here.” Dan said finally. He reached down and put his arm around her shoulders. “Thanks for bringing me. Sorry I’ve been a little grumpy.”
She touched his hand and glanced back at him, smiling. “A little? You’ve been perfectly horrible, truth be told. . . . But I guess I like you anyway.”
“Gee, thanks.” He laughed and tousled her hair with his fingers. “You’re too honest, sometimes, Emily. . . . But I like you anyway, too. Come to think of it, I like you a lot.”
Dan’s words and tender touch sent a surge of pure happiness through her. She glanced at him, then stared back at the waves. It had been a long time since she’d felt so close to and so comfortable with a man. She knew when his leg healed and he finally carried out his plan to leave Cape Light, she would miss him. Very much.
Would he miss her, too? Did he ever think about it? she wondered. She felt sure he would miss her, even if he didn’t realize it now, but not enough to keep him here. It wasn’t like that between them. She couldn’t harbor expectations. Dan had made that very clear. She would just enjoy their time together, however long it lasted.
Starting with here and now, she reminded herself.
“So, what would you like to do next? Go into town? Get a bite to eat, maybe?” Emily stood up and brushed the sand off her pants.
“Excellent suggestion. I’m starved. This ocean air really perks up your appetite.”
Emily slowly turned the chair around. “So does all this pushing,” she added, starting to roll the wheelchair back uphill. “I hope you brought your credit cards. I think you’re buying me a lobster.”
“I think I owe you one,” Dan said, as he tried to help by pushing on the wheels.
Their lunch at the Beanery did end up including lobster salad sandwiches, which Emily enjoyed immensely. They were able to get a table near the door, convenient for maneuvering Dan’s chair into the café. The table also put them in a prime spot for people watching. Practically everyone who came in stopped to say hello and ask Dan how he was feeling.
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