by Tepe, Mandie
Trace walked back to Meg’s car to help with her luggage. When she stepped out of the car she stopped, closed her eyes and breathed in deep. “Wow! Smell that sea air. You have a cottage right on the beach?” She looked enchanted.
Trace smiled a little. “You make it sound magical. It’s a very small house that I had to put a lot of work into when I first bought it. But it is on the beach and that is the best feature. Come on in.”
It didn’t take long for him to give the grand tour. The front door opened into the living room, which included a dining area, separated from a small kitchen by a tiny bar. There were sliding doors at the back of the dining area leading to a little deck, which led to the beach. An archway between the living room and dining area opened into a short hallway. To the right, at the front of the house, was a very small guest bedroom big enough for a day bed, small dresser, desk and a chair. Trace dropped Meg’s luggage off between the bed and the closet door of that room. They continued down the hall to the left past a tiny bathroom and on to Trace’s larger master bedroom. When he bought the house he had the back wall on the beach side taken out and moved back to enlarge the bedroom and make room to put a master bath in. It had cost him about a third of the back deck, but it was worth it to him to be able to spread out a little.
“I hope the guest room is not too crowded for you,” he said to Meg as they came back down the hall toward the living room.
“Oh, no. It’s cozy . . . and again, thank you so much for your hospitality.”
“Sean, you’re on the couch. Hope you don’t mind.”
“At least it’s a big comfy couch. Thanks! I can crash almost anywhere,” Sean replied as he threw himself onto the sofa.
“Well . . . you’ve seen it all. Help yourself to whatever you need and if you can’t find something just feel free to dig around. There aren’t many places to hide things in this house.”
Meg was feeling the jet lag. They had just wrapped up a three-month tour a couple of days before and she was looking forward to staying put in one location for a while. “I think I’ll get settled in, wash up and go to bed. Good night.”
“Good night,” both Trace and Sean chimed in.
CHAPTER THREE
Meg stepped out onto the deck and stealthily slid the patio door closed. After she sat on the steps and tied her running shoes she headed south down the beach on a morning run. Not too fast, she thought. Not used to running on sand, she didn’t want to turn an ankle. Meg was looking forward to this gig at the San Diego Dance Institute. For six weeks she and Sean would be teaching workshops and coordinating a showcase. They would be the featured dancers but would also be organizing the Institute’s advanced students to participate too. It was a great opportunity in more ways than one. Not only professionally, but finally she had a chance to settle down for a while—even if it was only temporarily.
Meg had been a gypsy for years. She’d dreamed of being a professional dancer since she was twelve years old. That was when her teachers first recognized how much talent was wrapped up in her tiny body. All through high school she periodically missed weeks of school at a time as she auditioned and toured in various shows.
She ended up graduating from high school through a home school program and earned a scholarship to the dance program at NYU’s Tisch School for the Arts. That’s where she met Sean Morgan.
From the start they just clicked. Both contemporary dancers, they had a deep love and respect for all forms of dance and loved to incorporate bits and pieces of them all in their choreography and freestyle pieces. While most of their peers were devoted to their various disciplines with no interest in broadening their horizons, Meg and Sean thrived on doing just that. They partnered up almost immediately and never looked back. Their style was unconventional and eclectic, but fun—both for them and their audiences. The duo started touring and performing together in college and had never stopped. They had developed a reputation as a highly sought after choreography team as well.
In the past few years their schedule had picked up to a neck-breaking speed. This was the first time Meg could remember that she would spend six weeks in one place. She had been craving that for some time now, so when Sean approached her with this offer, she jumped at the chance. He had an old friend at the SDDI who had contacted him but he wasn’t as keen on the idea as she was. She had finally persuaded him to take the gig. So here she was. She planned to enjoy every minute of it.
When Claire, Sean and Trace’s mom, had suggested they stay with Trace—if he were going to be in town—or at least at his house—if he were deployed—Meg thought that would be too good to be true. But it had all worked out, so she was in heaven. Then she saw the cute little cottage on the beach and she had to pinch herself. She was going to be the best houseguest ever so Trace wouldn’t regret opening his home to her and Sean.
Meg turned around to head north back up toward Trace’s house. It was still really early. She had passed only one man out walking with his dog. The dog was mostly chasing seagulls, though, instead of walking.
As she jogged along she reflected on Trace. He was pretty much what she expected—strong, quiet, brave, good looking. And he was more than she expected. She felt a connection—an attraction. He made her nervous in a way she couldn’t remember feeling since her last crush in high school. But how could that be? She’d barely spent any time with him. It must have been the jet lag. Maybe it was because she had heard so much about him from his family. Sean, Claire and Michael had told so many Trace stories, of course she thought she knew him. She looked up and her heart stuttered. There he was, sitting on the deck steps drinking his morning coffee.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Trace had woken with a start early that morning. After a few seconds he realized he’d heard the patio door slide shut. It was very quiet, but his senses were finely honed. He could drop off to sleep quickly but it didn’t take much to snap him fully awake. He had glanced out the windows that made up the whole back wall of his room and saw Meg take off running down the beach. It was still the soft light of daybreak and he was surprised to see her up. But then everything about her surprised him.
He had known a lot of dancers in his life. The son of a dance teacher would be accustomed to having them around. He had dated several of his mother’s students that he met around the studio while working as a handyman there in high school. It had never seemed to turn out well. Some were cool, but the most talented of them seemed to be self-involved and self-important. Divas he thought they called them. And from what he’d heard about Meg from the family, she was the most talented of the talented. And she was unexpected.
He’d laid in bed and watched the waves from the window for a couple of minutes as he reflected on her, then decided he wouldn’t be able to figure her out. But it could be fun studying her for a little while. For the first time he didn’t regret agreeing to let her and Sean stay with him for a few weeks. That’s when he smelled it. Coffee—already made—without him having to get up and make it himself. Yeah, he thought as he swung his feet to the floor, this might shape up to be a pretty good six weeks.
He pulled on sweatpants and a well-worn Navy t-shirt after stopping in the bathroom and padded into the kitchen for coffee. He noticed Sean, still unconscious on the couch, as he passed through the living room. He let himself out the back door quietly and sat on the steps down to the beach to enjoy his coffee. It tasted better than his. What was that—a pinch of cinnamon?
Trace glanced to his left and saw Meg in the distance jogging toward him wearing running shorts and an old t-shirt with Dance Dance Dance in faded rainbow colors down the front. Her dark hair, pulled back into a ponytail, bounced behind her.
“Mornin’,” he called as she came nearer.
“Hi. Hope I didn’t wake you up this morning.”
“No, not at all. I’m usually an early riser. Thanks for the coffee, but you really don’t have to do that . . .”
“It’s no
big deal—just a pot of coffee. It’s not like I refinished your floors or something.” Meg looked a little embarrassed.
“Why? Do my floors need refinishing?” Trace tried to look offended.
“N-n-no . . . I mean . . . I didn’t mean . . .”
He laughed, “I was just kidding! I do appreciate the coffee, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to earn your keep.”
Meg looked at him sheepishly. “I know. It’s not that I’m trying to earn my keep.” She bit her lip, then burst out, “But do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had access to a kitchen? I’m so excited about it I can hardly stand it. I hope you won’t mind if I want to cook.”
“Wow. You just did it again.” He looked surprised. “Who am I to stop you from cooking? Would you be cooking for all of us?”
“Of course. Um, what did I do ‘again?’”
“Nothing. Never mind. So, big day today, huh?”
“Yeah. We have a series of meetings at the Institute. We won’t start the workshops until Wednesday, but we can get some of our ducks in a row starting today. In fact, I’d better go shove Sean out of bed and get ready to go.”
“Yeah, me too. I have to report to base in a little while. Good luck today.”
“Thanks!” Meg headed up the steps toward the back door.
“Hey, Meg!” Trace stopped her in her tracks.
She turned around her beautiful green eyes wide. “Yes?”
He noticed her hair was actually a dark auburn with red and tawny streaks that glowed when the early morning sun hit it. “Are you sure we won’t disturb you watching the game here tonight? Please be honest.”
“Of course not! I’d be more disturbed if you cancel.”
Trace nodded and turned back toward the shore to watch the waves and finish his coffee.
CHAPTER FOUR
Trace hopped out of his Jeep and pulled a half case of beer from the back as he swung around behind it. He walked over to check the mailbox—no bills today, just junk. A miracle. He wondered if he had time to sit in the hot tub before the guys showed up. It was a long day in the classroom working out solutions to every kind of worse case scenario the officers could think up. This wasn’t his favorite kind of training, but it may be the most important kind. If they could try to solve problems before they happened in the field, the easier it was to think on their feet when everything was deteriorating around them in dangerous situations. He would prefer a long day of physical labor than sitting in a classroom all day long, he thought, rubbing his neck as he walked through the back door into the kitchen.
Something smelled good. He looked up and saw Meg, in bare feet, jeans and a long-sleeved black t-shirt with her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She was standing by the stove stirring something in a pot.
“Hey! I wasn’t sure when you’d be home. We got out of our planning sessions early, so I thought I’d make a pot of chili. Hope you guys like chili—or chili dogs. I’ve got hotdogs too.”
Trace set the beer on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. “Wow! You made chili? You didn’t have to do that. We usually order pizza when everyone gets here.”
“You did say I could cook, and this was so much fun. It’ll freeze, though, if you have your heart set on pizza.”
“Are you kidding? I’m sick to death of pizza. Thank you. Well, I think I’ll go take a hot shower. The guys’ll be here in about an hour, I guess.”
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Meg walked into the living room to see the three men sprawled out on the furniture in front of the television. They each held heaping plates of chili dogs and corn chips on their stomachs. They seemed so engrossed in the game she hated to intrude. She glanced at the screen and it seemed like there was nothing happening—just a bunch of guys standing around waiting for something. About that time a man dressed in black and white started making arm gestures and said something that made no sense to Meg. The whole living room erupted.
“Are you kidding me?” Charley shouted.
“What?!” Sonny looked over at Charley in disbelief.
“Come on, Charley! His foot was in, but there’s no way he had control of that ball,” Trace piped in.
“You guys are as blind as that official is,” Charley said as he ducked the pillow Sonny chucked at him.
Meg just shook her head.
Trace stood up. “Do you guys need another beer?”
They both sort of grunted, which must have meant “yes” because Trace walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed three bottles.
“Excuse me, Trace . . . I noticed you have wireless Internet. Do you mind if I use it?” Meg asked as she held up her laptop.
Trace looked startled for a moment as if he’d forgotten she was there. “Oh, sure. Go ahead.”
She sat down at the small dining table at the back of the living room. She’d heard about boys and their sports but hadn’t had much experience witnessing it first hand—maybe a couple of times at happy hour in a sports bar. Meg opened her laptop and logged onto the Internet to check her email.
Her sister had sent new photos of her four-year-old niece, Aubri, at a petting zoo. She was growing up so fast and Meg wished she were able to spend more time with her. Her sister, Maura, would be due to deliver Aubri’s new baby brother in a couple of months. Maybe Meg could take some time off and be there for the birth to help out with Aubri for a few weeks while Maura recovered. Maura’s husband, Keith, would probably appreciate that too. It would be nice to be back in her hometown in Illinois—spend some time with her parents.
Meg replied to Maura’s email as well as one from her mother. Her parents were getting ready to leave on a week-long cruise and the girls had been helping their mom plan what to pack for her vacation wardrobe. It would have been more fun to do it in person, but Meg enjoyed being included long distance anyway. She inherited all of her girly-girl ways from her mom and her older sister. She sure didn’t get to indulge them too much hanging around with Sean all the time.
A huge cheer went up, both from the crowd on TV and from the guys in the living room. About that time she heard her cell phone’s ring-tone—Just Like Heaven by the Cure. She looked guiltily at the guys as she grabbed for it but it didn’t seem to disturb them. Meg glanced at the screen and stepped out onto the deck. “Hey, Monte!”
Monte Perez was an old friend from NYU and another talented dancer. He and his wife, Tatiana, were living and working in Los Angeles. “Are you in San Diego?”
“Yep. We got in last night. It’s such a relief to have that tour wrapped up.”
“When are we going to meet up? Are you going to be able to get together one of these weekends? ‘Tiana’s hoping you’ll come up and stay with us for a couple of days. Or we could come down there. I’ve always wanted to go to SeaWorld.”
Meg laughed. Monte had a great childlike spirit and was fun to be around. “We’re going to nail down our schedule tomorrow and I’ll let you know which weekend will work out for me—probably sooner rather than later. The showcase rehearsals are going to get more intense the closer we get to the performance.”
“Can’t wait to see you, babe. We’re so glad you’re close by. How’re things going with Sean?”
“Fine. He’s already hooked up with a group of teaching assistants and is out partying with them.”
“Wow . . . is that a record?”
“No. He finds ‘em pretty quick. Me . . . I’m enjoying a quiet evening ‘at home.’”
Meg heard a soft accented voice, “Oh, that’s right. How are things at his brother’s house—awkward?”
“Tatiana! So great to hear your voice.” She should have figured Monte’s wife would be on the extension. “Things here are much less awkward than I thought. Trace is great—very welcoming. And the house is great. It’s right on the beach.”
“Enough about the house. I want to hear more about this Trace McKenna.”
“Oh, come on. Can’t you girls save the girl
talk ‘til I’m off the phone?” Monte groaned.
Tatiana and Meg laughed. “Tell you what, Meg—just send me a long newsy email and fill me in. We won’t torture Monte with the important stuff.”
The three old friends chatted a few minutes more and Meg promised to contact them with her schedule in the next couple of days, then they said their goodbyes.
As she came through the deck doors back into the house Trace was standing at the sink rinsing the guys’ dishes. “There you are. Everything okay? We can get kind of loud, I guess.”
“I was just out on the deck on my cell. I didn’t want to disturb your game. Is it over?”
“No . . . halftime. It’s getting a little chilly out there, isn’t it?”
“A little, but I grew up near Chicago. I can take it. My friends, Monte and Tatiana, called. They’re living in Los Angeles and we’re trying to set up a time to get together while I’m out here on the west coast. It’ll be fun. I really miss them.”
“That’s great . . .” Trace began.
“Yo! McKenna! Game’s back on,” Sonny called.
Trace looked at her apologetically. “Sorry. Gotta go when the game comes back on.”
Meg rolled her eyes and laughed as he vaulted over the arm of the sofa.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
The game was over and the guys had just left. Trace threw the beer bottles into the recycling bin and turned around to finish up the dishes as Meg walked in. “I thought you might have gone on to bed.”
“No, I was just making some notes on some choreography I’ve been playing around with. How was the game?”
“Good. Not many surprises, though. Everyone knew the Steelers would pull off the win and they did.”
Meg smiled up at him. “Still fun to watch though, huh?”