by Drea Stein
“Ok,” she said, surprised and delighted. “I can do that.”
“Meet me at the docks, tomorrow, say ten o’clock. How about we go for a boat ride?”
“A boat ride?” she asked. “Isn’t it cold out?”
“Dress warmly. I want to show you something.”
“Ok, a boat ride. Should I bring anything?”
“No, I’ve got it covered,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Fine. If you think you can wait that long.” She said it as a challenge, wanting to see if it would make him reconsider.
“Oh, I’m not sure that I’ll get much sleep tonight. But like I said, I’m a patient man; I can wait.”
She realized she wasn’t going to get any more than that from him, so slowly, tantalizing, she closed her door.
She waited, leaning against it, to see if she could hear him. There was a shifting of weight, the slight creak of the floorboards underneath him and then she could sense movement against the door, almost feel where he had placed his hands. She lifted one up, to where she imagined his was.
“Lynn, go to bed. Trust me, I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow,” his voice came through the door.
And then she heard him go.
With a sigh that did nothing to calm the adrenaline coursing through her, she turned and faced her empty apartment. She had a feeling it was going to be a long night.
Chapter 39
“What do you mean nothing happened?” Tory screeched so loudly that Lynn had to close her eyes. “He took you to the Lighthouse, voted the most romantic restaurant in all of New England, and you barely even kiss good night?”
Lynn sighed. She had finally managed to get to sleep but then she’d an embarrassingly vivid dream and she had woken in the midst of tangled sheets, damp from head to foot, with an aching knot of frustration tied up tight within her. She hadn’t been able to sleep after that, and when she got the early morning text from Tory, she had agreed to meet her for a quick cup of coffee before her plans with Jackson.
“He said he’s being patient.”
“Sounds like he’s teasing you,” Tory said, and Lynn could almost hear the wheels of her brain turning.
“Though, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I mean, talk about the buildup! You must just be about to explode. I mean, your underused lady parts facing an eruption of cataclysmic proportions.”
“Will you shut up!” Lynn said, looking to see if anyone else had heard. Joan Altieri, the proprietor of The Garden Cottage, a local store that sold fancy home goods and knick-knacks, seemed awfully engrossed in her morning paper, which must have been racy enough to have the tops of her ears turning pink.
Even Darby Callahan, all eight and half months pregnant of her, seemed to be hovering near them, wiping a neighboring table down with an unusual thoroughness.
She had thought that meeting with Tory would help calm her, but Lynn was as jumpy as a flea with eczema, and Tory’s voice was a little too loud for comfort. It was a small town and if Joan and Darby knew about her and Jackson, it wouldn’t be long before all of Queensbay, including her parents, found out. Besides, given what half the town thought of Jackson, maybe keeping their relationship quiet was the way to go.
“What, it’s not like everyone isn’t after the same thing here. You’re due for a good healthy dose of robust exercise.”
“Seriously, is that all you think it is?” Lynn hissed.
“It’s not the only thing, but it certainly makes this business of living a little more exciting... You know,” Tory said, breaking off a piece of her chocolate croissant, dunking it in her coffee, and then holding it half way on route to her lips, “Jackson may have you right where he wants you.”
“And what does that mean?”
“Awfully worked up. And focused on one thing. Wow, look who has the one-track mind.”
“I do not have a one-track mind,” Lynn protested.
“Whatcha thinking about now?” Tory said as the chocolate croissant disappeared between her lips.
Chapter 40
After her breakfast with Tory, she walked slowly home and waited until it was time to go. Her mother had called and left a message, asking her to call her. Lynn was certain that her mother had made it into the café and had heard the gossip.
Lynn decided her mother could wait, but wasn’t surprised when her mother sent her a text: “be safe...and by that I mean use protection”
Feeling the flames of embarrassment light up her face, she didn’t know how to respond to that, so she ignored it. It was the pitfalls of having two parents who were doctors themselves. No beating around the bush when it came to bodily functions. And safety first, always safety first.
Now she was walking along the docks of the marina, enjoying another beautiful fall day. There was a chill in the air but she hardly felt it through her sweater and fleece, which was warm enough to withstand an arctic storm.
Jackson had sent her the slip number so she could find him and as she passed boats big enough to take up residence on, she wondered just how much money Jackson had made investing. He had said boat, not yacht, she was sure of that.
However, the directions led her just past a sleek white motor yacht with tinted windows, around a sloop large enough to have sailed around the world to something much more charming.
“This is yours?” she asked looking it over. Jackson stood in the little cockpit of a gleaming, varnished, antique wood runabout. The hull was a golden brown and the brass trimmings shined bright. Jaunty striped cushions were on the two captain’s chairs and the small bench that ran along the back of the cockpit. Everything was orderly and precise in the little boat, which rocked slowly in its slip.
“All mine,” he said. He was wearing jeans, boat shoes, and a fleece pullover that hugged his broad shoulders. The sun glinted on his fair hair and there was a definite note of pride in his voice.
“She’s beautiful,” Lynn acknowledged. Living on the coast might be new to her, and boats somewhat uncharted territory, but even she could see this boat was a classic, something that must have been lovingly restored.
“Thanks. I did most of the work myself, years ago. Well, everything but the engine,” he admitted.
“Was it a lot of work?” Lynn said.
“You bet. She was a wreck, literally. Washed up on the shore. I was the first to find her and when the owner decided she was too far gone to fix, I had a hell of a project on my hands. Chase has been looking out for her for me, but I haven’t been out since I got back into town.”
Lynn could tell that Jackson was just as excited as she was about the prospect of a day on the water.
“Do you need me to cast off?”
“That would be great.” Jackson started the engine, and it gave off a low, throaty putt-putt as it idled. Lynn walked to the bow of the boat, untied the line, and then walked to the stern. She loosened it and then did as graceful a flying leap as possible onto the boat, while holding onto the stern line with one hand.
Jackson’s arm, the one not manning the steering wheel, caught her and pulled her close. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before turning his attention back to the water in front of them.
Lynn thought about the butterflies in her stomach and willed them away. It was a beautiful day, warm for October, and the sky was a clear, deep blue, with large, white clouds scudding across it. In the sun it was lovely, but she was glad she had dressed warmly. There was more than a hint of the changing seasons in the air, of unsettled weather and longer, darker nights.
Jackson guided the boat out through the closely spaced vessels moored close to the marina and then out into the channel. Soon most of the boats would be pulled in for the winter, but there were still a fair number to navigate through.
“You never told me where we were going,” she said, raising her voice to be heard above the sound of the engine and the wind. She had pulled her hair back into a ponytail, but some strands whipped across her face and she tucked them behind her ear.
“Here and there,” Jackson said.
“Here and there?” Lynn asked. “You don’t seem to be a here and there type of guy.”
He shrugged. “Not on dry land. But the water’s a different story. I thought we’d explore the harbor. Have you been out?”
“Once, with your brother and Phoebe, on Chase’s sailboat. My dad’s thinking of buying one, so Chase gave him the tour.”
“Ahh, Chase and his sailboat. Now tell me,” Jackson said as he pushed down on the throttle and the sleek little boat jumped ahead, “Which do you like better…”
Lynn laughed as her hair whipped wildly around her head.
He even let her drive, or steer, the boat. She stood up, so she could have a clear view of the water ahead of them, and he nestled himself behind her, his body blocking the wind, his weight a comforting presence as he showed her the controls, taught her how to pick out a spot on land and use that to guide her.
They moved past the hulking wreck of the Queensbay Show House, its tattered ‘Save Me Now’ banner flapping in the wind, and then up the shoreline into a sandy cove, and then back out into the main harbor.
She was having so much fun she didn’t notice that the white clouds had piled up into a mass of smoky gray ones and that the sun was covered by a milky film that stole its warmth.
“Is it going to rain?” she asked, glancing up as she shivered.
Jackson followed her gaze. “Most likely. But that’s ok.”
Lynn looked back over her shoulder. It was hard to judge distances over the water, but she felt even if they made all out for the marina, they were still looking at getting a good soaking before they landed.
“I don’t think we’ll make it back to the marina in time. Don’t suppose you have any foul weather gear on board?”
There was a small stowage area in the bow of the boat but it wouldn’t really provide much in the way of shelter, Lynn thought.
“I might, but we won’t need them,” Jackson said, his hand coming down over hers as he slowed the throttle down and nudged the wheel in the direction of the shore.
“We’re going to go to the beach?” She knew she wasn’t keeping the surprise out of her voice.
“Not quite. We’re heading for that dock there. We can tie up there and catch some shelter.”
“Won’t the owner get mad?” Lynn asked.
Jackson shot her a smile. “He’s an old friend. He won’t mind.”
Lynn was about to argue that they couldn’t just go barging in on someone when the first large raindrop splattered on the windshield in front of them. Already the wind had turned colder, more cutting and she thought that it would be nice to get inside.
“Want me to take her in?” Jackson asked, and Lynn handed over the wheel. She set out the bumpers along the gunwales and picked up the bowline, waiting. Jackson guided the boat quickly but gently and cut the engine so they floated up to the dock. Just before they touched, Lynn was out, tying the boat down. The rain was starting to come down a little harder now, the flat surface of the harbor awash with concentric circles as each raindrop landed and disappeared.
Quickly and without much talking, they secured the boat together. He lifted a cushion and she saw there was a compartment under one of the benches. From it he pulled out a bright yellow rain slicker and tossed it to her. She wrapped it around her and in a moment, Jackson was with her on the dock. He grabbed her hand and they all but ran up the long walkway towards the end where the dock landed on the sandy verge.
She looked up. They were along the bluffs of the harbor, where the elevation went almost straight up. She could catch a glimpse of a structure amidst the trees above.
“Hope you don’t mind a bit of a climb,” he said as he pointed to the set of steps that zigzagged up the steep incline.
“Not a problem.” The rain goaded them on and the climb was over before she had even realized it began. The steps opened up to a wide lawn and Lynn got the impression of a low-slung building that hugged the hill it was built into. There were windows, lots of them, and strong, sturdy beams made of warm brown wood and dark metal. Staying close to her, Jackson hurried her up the slope, then to a set of stairs that led to a wide-planked deck that ran along the front of the house.
Still shielding her from the rain, he slid open a door and they plunged into the silence of the house. Lynn stood, letting her racing pulse slow as she took in her surroundings. Windows. She got the impression of lots of windows and open space, metal, and wood trusses. It was sparsely finished because she realized that most of it was new. There was the faint smell of raw wood and new paint, even as there was the smell of something else, like cinnamon and vanilla mixed in as well.
“Is this a new house?”
With a slight shushing sound and a click, the slider door locked into place and Jackson turned to her. “Not quite. It’s been completely renovated though. It used to be a traditional ranch, a bit boxy, with nothing special except for this.”
He motioned and she was drawn to the window. The sky was completely overcast now, a gunmetal gray that turned the surface of the water to a leaden pewter shade. The rain, which had started in large, single drops had now turned into a single sheet of water pouring down. She shivered, feeling the dampness, glad that they didn’t have to go out there again, at least not right away.
“Here,” he said, dropping an arm around her shoulder. “Let me start a fire.”
He led her down to a sunken living room, where one wall was dominated by a fireplace, surrounded by mellow gray fieldstone. The chimney, in the same stone, went up to the vaulted ceiling above. A sectional couch, in a light cream color, sat across from the fireplace.
Grateful, Lynn sunk into it, while Jackson crouched by the hearth. As she stripped off the raincoat and her damp fleece, she could see that a fire had already been set—paper, kindling, and some nice fat logs. All that needed to be done was to set a match to it. Jackson took a long narrow container, opened it and a match appeared. He struck it on the bottom of the tin and the flame jumped to life. Cupping a hand around it, he maneuvered it closer to the fire and touched it to the paper.
In an instant, the flame caught and there was a crackle as the fire settled in. Almost immediately, she could sense the warmth coming from it, and she moved along the side of the couch to get closer to the blaze.
He turned and looked at her, throwing her a smile. The light in the room was soft and gray, a reflection of the world outside. His blond hair caught the red of the flames as he leaned back on his haunches.
“Sorry about that. The weather wasn’t supposed to turn this early in the day. I thought we had until late afternoon.”
“Is it supposed to rain for a while?” Lynn asked.
Jackson got up, and reaching past her picked up a soft wool throw in a dark chocolate color. He draped it around her shoulders and she soaked up the warmth.
“Until late tonight.”
“I guess we won’t be going back out in the boat for a while.”
He looked at her. “Not if we don’t have to. There’s supposed to be a decent amount of wind, with the rain heavy at times. It’s not that far back to the marina but there’s no sense risking it if we don’t need to.”
“So we’re stuck here?” she asked, the realization of the possibilities suddenly dawning on her.
He came up to the couch and leaned a little closer to her. “In a matter of speaking. We’re not that far from town, you know. Pretty sure there’s a car in the garage, if you want to go home?”
“Your friend, is he coming back anytime soon?”
“Friend?” Jackson said and his face showed a moment of confusion. “Oh, you mean the owner.”
Lynn, nodded, wondering why she suddenly felt shy.
“No, I think we’re safe from any interruptions,” he said, his voice rough.
She felt a flash of desire, of anticipation and tried to hide it by stretching out her legs.
He smiled, as if sensing her unease. “How abo
ut something to eat? And some music?”
“Maybe some music,” Lynn agreed.
“Good idea. The stereo system is over there. I’ll check the kitchen and we’ll meet back here?”
Relieved she had something to do, they got up, and Lynn went to the shelf that held the radio. It looked like all she had to do was turn it on. A small screen popped up, allowing her to select a type of music. She scanned through the choices, settling for classic rock.
Satisfied, she turned and wandered back towards the kitchen. This floor seemed to be taken up by one large room that was divided into a kitchen, an eating area, and the sunken living room. Beyond that, there was a set of stairs leading down and a hallway beyond that. She imagined that the rest of the house, things like bathrooms and bedrooms, all had to be down there.
The kitchen was brand new. Dark granite counter tops contrasted with lighter, amber colored wood cabinets. The appliances sparkled and were all top of the line. Lynn knew, since her mother was a spectacular cook and coveted ones like these.
“It still smells like a new house in here,” Lynn said snagging one of the stools that ran along the counter.
“Yes, the renovation just finished. Mostly. There’s still a few things to do, but it’s livable.”
“I’m surprised the fridge is stocked,” she said, craning her neck for a better look.
“Always be prepared,” Jackson said, emerging with a bottle of champagne.
She looked. He had already set out some cheese, crackers, and grapes.
He opened a cabinet without hesitation and pulled out two champagne flutes. She watched as he set them down and expertly opened the bottle. There was a small pop and the white bubbly liquid dribbled into the glasses.
She took the one handed to her. He held out his glass and they clinked. She took a sip, the bubbles hitting her nose.
“You seem awfully familiar with everything in this place,” she said.
He gave her a smile and lifted one eyebrow. “I have a good memory.”