You're the One That I Want

by Susan May Warren

  And as if on cue, a whoop ascended from the den downstairs, where the guys clustered around a Minnesota Wild game.

  “Owen seems to be okay with having Max here,” Eden said to Grace, then glanced at Scotty. “Max was the one who caused Owen’s injury.”

  “It wasn’t on purpose!” Grace said, shooting Eden a dark look before coming to sit next to Scotty on the bed. “They were in a fight and—”

  “Owen told me,” Scotty said. “And he’s made peace with it.” Well, after today on the ice, maybe she couldn’t be sure of that, but none of his breakdown had included blaming Max. “He’s just trying to figure out what the rest of his life looks like.”

  “Did he really dive into the ocean to save you?” Eden asked.

  “Yep. And then, in the raft, he kept me alive by trying to get me to hope. Which is why he proposed. Your brother is a little—”

  “Crazy?” Eden said.

  “Passionate?” Grace suggested.

  “Charming,” Scotty said, feeling her face redden. “And no, he didn’t kiss me on the raft.”

  “Oh, my inner investigative reporter is kicking in,” Eden said. “You did kiss him. Just not on the raft.”

  More laughter from below, and Scotty thought she heard Owen hooting as the Wild scored or perhaps simply stole the puck and made one of those breathtaking shots she’d seen from him.

  Which only conjured up this afternoon and being caught in his arms. And wishing . . .

  “Oh, you’ve got it bad,” Grace said.

  “Why not? Owen is a charmer,” Eden said. “There’s a reason Hockey Today named him one of the most eligible rookies.”

  “Wasn’t Jace also listed as one of the most eligible bachelors?”

  “Not anymore,” Eden said. “But Owen—he has this way of getting under your skin. You can’t stay angry at him, at least not usually. I can admit we had a pretty good run there over the past year. But now that he’s back, I’m just so glad he’s okay.” Her eyes warmed. “Grace tells me we have you to thank for that. You gave him CPR? Kept him alive?”

  Scotty nodded, dismissing the memory of her panic, the way she’d so completely crumbled and started begging heaven for help.

  Apparently that’s what Owen did—made her break her own rules.

  “So that’s when he proposed?” Grace said. “As he was dying?”

  “I don’t think we should take that too seriously. We both agreed that it was impulsive. I am not the marrying kind of girl.” There, she said it, and maybe it would shut down the way these two were grinning at her.

  “I didn’t think Jace was the marrying kind, but he is an amazing husband.”

  “And Max said he never wanted to be a father, but he is putty around Yulia.”

  “Love changes things, Scotty,” Eden said. “It’s changed Owen. I see the way he looks at you. Like when he came in tonight and you were making cookies.”

  “He looked like he’d just walked onto the ice in his underwear in front of a hundred thousand fans. Totally flummoxed,” Grace said.

  Scotty had to grin at that. Yeah, the poor man had stared at her as if he didn’t recognize her. For a while there, she hadn’t recognized herself. Cooking with Grace, with Ingrid, who simply handed her hot pads and a spatula like she knew exactly what to do in a kitchen.

  “I’ve never made cookies in my life.”

  “Really? You and your mother didn’t do holiday baking together?” Grace picked up a bottle of nail polish, shaking it. She put her foot on the bed.

  “My mother died. In childbirth.”

  Silence. See, that was why she didn’t go around making that announcement. “But it’s no big deal. My dad raised me. Red was . . . Well, I have to give him credit for trying. He didn’t exactly know what to do with a girl.”

  She watched as Grace applied the polish, one red toe at a time. “Red is a fishing boat captain. Salty. Briny. He isn’t much for emotions and girlie things. And we had to survive. So he taught me how to clean and fry fish, how to make a fire, how to tend wounds, and how to stay alive in the wilderness. When he would go out fishing, he’d leave me with his best friend, my uncle Gil, and his wife. They had two sons who thought it might be fun to teach me how to hunt and throw a punch, and mostly I grew up as a boy. If it weren’t for my aunt Rosemary, I would have completely freaked out when I became a teenager and started looking like—and becoming—a woman. Even then, I thought like a guy. I started fishing with Red when I was nine, hanging out in the wheelhouse. I joined the crew, started working the deck when I was thirteen, although not the long shifts. By the time I was eighteen, I could captain a boat, throw line, reel in pots, sort crab—he made me his first mate.”

  Grace had finished one foot and moved on to the other. “You really know how to sail one of those big boats?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “But I thought Owen said you were a cop.” This from Eden.

  “That was because of Red too. He had a heart attack a few years ago and I had to take the boat back to port during a winter gale. It knocked him out good, and he missed two seasons. I wanted to get a job on another boat, but he sort of reminded me that the captain being my father protected me from . . . Let’s just say that it’s not a great idea to be the only girl on a boat full of young, hardworking men.”

  “I’ll bet,” Eden said.

  “Uncle Gil is the Homer police chief, so Red talked him into hiring me. I attended officer training and started working for the Homer Police Department. Made detective last winter. By that time, the boat was in hock for his medical bills and Red was trying to regroup. He went out for the opie season—and that’s when he hired Owen on. I took a sabbatical from the force this fall to help him put in a final catch but . . .” She found herself looking out the window as the night fell through the trees. “Red is selling the boat. He was already thinking of selling, and although he won’t say it, I think it completely freaked him out when Owen and I went overboard.” She shook her head. “I keep telling him I can take over—that I should take over, but he won’t listen. I don’t have the money, really, to buy the boat, but he won’t even consider it.”

  “Almost losing someone you love can undo you,” Eden said quietly.

  “Which also accounts for why Owen went after you.” Grace closed the nail polish, waved her hands over her toes.

  “I don’t think . . . I mean, Owen doesn’t . . .”

  “Love you? Huh.”

  “Here’s a tip about guys, Scotty,” Eden said, reaching for the bottle. “You gotta read between the words to the action. Diving into an icy sea? Yeah, that’s true love.” She unscrewed the top and began touching up her already-lacquered toenails.

  “If that were true, he would have kissed me today when he had the chance.”

  In the silence that followed, Scotty glanced at Grace, who had stopped waving her hands. “He had a chance to kiss you and didn’t?”

  “Well, it wasn’t . . . He was . . .” She stopped there, not wanting to betray Owen and the way life had suddenly seemed to manhandle him. “We have these rules.”

  “Rules?” Eden switched feet. “What kind of rules?”

  “No kissing. Or holding my hand or impulsive overtures designed to make me fall for him.”

  “And Owen is abiding by those rules?”

  “I guess so.” She didn’t mean for it to sound . . . appalling. “Which is good. The last thing I need is to get confused about why I’m here.”

  “Which is—”

  “To clear your brother.”

  Eden handed the bottle back to Grace. “Listen. Casper is going to be fine. Max and Jace brought up a lawyer, and he’s got this handled. According to Bryce, the evidence is circumstantial.”

  “I heard the evidence. Yeah, it’s circumstantial, but with Casper’s history with Monte Riggs . . .”

  “Like Owen said to Mom. Have a little faith,” Grace said. She handed the bottle to Scotty. “Your turn.”

  “Huh?”

  “G
et some polish on those naked toes.” Grace pointed to Scotty’s feet.

  Scotty just held the bottle. “Um . . .”

  “What?”

  “I’ve never . . . I don’t wear nail polish. Or makeup or . . .”

  Grace’s hand touched her shoulder. “Give me your toes.”

  Scotty frowned but put a foot up on the bed. Grace rolled up the cuffs of Scotty’s jeans, glancing at Eden. “Get my makeup bag.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I get your rules, really. I mean, Owen has had some issues with self-control, but I think . . . well, I think you need to break your rules,” Grace said, opening the bottle. She looked up, wrinkled her nose. “Sorry. But you do. You like my brother. He likes you. And enough of you thinking you’re a boy. You’re a woman, a gorgeous one, and you’ll just have to convince Owen that you’re worth breaking the rules for.”

  “How am I going to do that?” But she put her other foot on the bed, rolled the other cuff.

  Grace grinned as she began to apply the polish. “We’re Christiansens. We know what our brothers like.”

  Eden sat down beside them and began fishing through Grace’s bag. “Where do I start?”

  “Maybe just a little mascara. We don’t want him to lose his ability to speak.”

  Eden stood, poised above Scotty with a mascara brush. “Look sultry.”

  “Look how?”

  Grace laughed. “Look down your nose at me. And don’t flinch.”

  With Eden tugging at her lashes, it seemed an impossible request.

  “Your eyes just got ten times bigger.” Eden stepped back to survey her work. “Wow, I’m good.”

  Grace had started on the other foot. “Lips. Just a little gloss, I think.”

  Eden fumbled through the bag again, and Scotty just stared at them. True Christiansens, they had decided to dive in and rescue her from herself. Whether she needed, or wanted, rescue.

  Although, when Eden pulled out her iPod and scrolled to a song, it felt suddenly like one of those weird, girlie slumber parties she remembered from Grease.

  And she was Sandy, getting dolled up for Danny Zuko.

  Except she’d willingly submitted. Maybe even enjoyed it.

  “‘For all those times you stood by me. For all the truth that you made me see.’” Eden grabbed a hairbrush.

  “Sing it, Celine!” Grace said, turning up the volume. Across the room, Yulia had sat up, grinning as her new mom joined in with Eden.

  “‘You’re the one who held me up, never let me fall . . .’” Eden held out her hand. “C’mon, Scotty, let’s hear it—”

  “I don’t know—”

  “‘You were my strength when I was weak . . .’” Grace pulled her from the bed.

  Wait, maybe . . . yes, she knew this. Scotty found her voice and joined in. “‘I’m everything I am because you loved me.’”

  “That’s right!” Grace said and gestured to Yulia, who bounced out of bed, catching her hand. Eden pumped up the music as she and Grace harmonized on the next verse, their voices rising to fill the room.

  “Hit the high note, Grace!” Eden said.

  Scotty laughed when Grace hit a wobbly “‘I was blessed because I was loved by yooooou!’”

  She caught onto the last chorus, and Eden launched into background embellishments, belting as if she were on a Vegas stage. “‘Because you loved meeeeeee.’”

  The music faded out and Yulia clapped her hands, laughing.

  “Okay, it’s back to bed for you, little miss,” Grace said.

  Eden dug into the makeup bag as another song came on. “Stick out that pouty lip,” she said to Scotty.

  Scotty obeyed, and Eden doctored her lips.

  “So?” Scotty said, batting her eyes, a smile finding roost.

  “Let’s put your hair up. Turn around.”

  Eden pulled Scotty’s long hair into a messy bun. She finger-curled a few errant strands around her face. Then she took Scotty’s hand and led her over to the full-length mirror that stood in the corner. “You rule breaker, you.”

  To her own eyes, Scotty’s neck suddenly seemed impossibly delicate, her eyes insanely huge, her lashes dark and long, her lips glistening with just a touch of pink.

  Eden came back with a makeup brush. “Hold still,” she said and blushed Scotty’s cheeks. “Not that you’ll need it when Owen takes a look at you but . . .” She winked.

  Scotty just stared. “I can’t believe . . .”

  “That’s you? It is, but if it’s too much—” Grace suddenly wore chagrin on her face. “We didn’t mean to take over.”

  “I like it,” Scotty said. “I just have never . . . I never had a reason to wear makeup.”

  “What, you never went to prom or homecoming?”

  “No. Red was . . . Well, I wasn’t allowed to date. Ever.” Scotty caught her lip in her teeth, turning away from the girl she didn’t recognize in the mirror. The girl who seemed pretty, feminine even . . . maybe marriage material. “Besides, who wants to go out with a girl who smells like crab or spends more time learning how to hunt than flirt?”

  “You don’t need to flirt. Just be yourself. Because one thing Grace and I both forgot is that you—the fisherwoman, police officer version of you—are exactly the person Owen fell in love with. You don’t need any of this to get his attention. This is . . . icing on the cake.” Eden had gone to the closet. “How about a dress?”

  “Ah, I think this will do,” Scotty said before things got too far out of hand.

  “Okay, listen, I’m going to go downstairs and distract Max. Eden, you do the same with Jace, and you’ll have Owen to yourself,” Grace said.

  “And then what do I do?”

  “Let Owen handle the rest.”

  Oh, boy.

  Grace came up to her, turned her to face the mirror again. “Let’s say tonight you throw out your rules.”

  “Within reason,” Eden added. “This is Owen we’re talking about.”

  Scotty shook her head. “Owen’s changed. He’s not . . . He’s a gentleman. You should have seen him on the boat. He didn’t swear, kept the other guys from talking crude around me. And when he had a chance to kiss me, he didn’t. I didn’t even think he liked me until . . . well, the raft. And that was just because he was freaked out. Pure emotion, and . . . that’s not . . . real.”

  She sighed as she looked in the mirror. “Neither is this. I can’t help but feel like I’m manipulating him.”

  “You are,” Eden said. “That’s the fun part about being a girl—having your man look at you like you turn his world inside out. Have you never read Song of Solomon?”

  “Song of what?”

  “Ignore her,” Grace said. “Listen, you’re not manipulating anyone. And emotion is a good thing. Emotion gives meaning to your actions. Love, fear, duty—they’re the power behind every sacrificial act, every grand gesture, the reason men go to war and women die for their children and yes, why Owen threw himself overboard. Don’t be afraid of it, Scotty. No, you don’t need any makeup to attract Owen—my guess is you already have his heart. You had it before he jumped into an ocean after you. But . . .” She reached over and grabbed a bottle of perfume. “It doesn’t mean you can’t wow him.”

  She raised an eyebrow and Scotty gave a nod, letting Grace mist the perfume onto her skin. Grace added it to her own wrists, then pulled up her hair, reached for the lip gloss, and spread it on with her pinkie finger, smacking her lips.

  Across the room, Eden had pulled on a hockey sweater over her belly. “It’s Jace’s.” She winked and reached for the perfume.

  “Yulia, you go to sleep,” Grace said, covering her daughter with the quilt, then kissing her forehead. “I’ll be back later.”

  Then she hooked her arm through Scotty’s. “C’mon. They’ve seen enough of that stupid hockey game anyway.”

  The Minnesota Wild were in the last fifteen seconds of a two-minute power play, trying to score against Arizona.

  “That
has to be over twenty shots on goal, and they still can’t get it under the crossbar.” Owen sat propped on the edge of the sofa, nearly on his feet. “C’mon, man.”

  “Smith is an amazing goalie,” Jace said. He leaned forward in the recliner, his arms folded. “We’ll need to learn to clean up on the rebound if we want to score against these guys.”

  The buzzer for the end of the second period sounded. Max threw his hands up, sat back at the other end of the sofa. “Not that I care about the Wild winning, but sheesh.”

  It felt easy, like old times, to be sitting with his teammates, watching the Wild—or any team, for that matter. Dissecting shots, deflections, checks, hits.

  Owen could almost forget that his life had derailed.

  That’s about enough of that. His father’s words hung in his brain. Yeah, he’d managed not to dredge up the past with Max. Had managed to talk hockey with Jace, his hero, like he hadn’t nearly cost the guy his career the last time he was on the ice. Sometimes, the image of Jace taking the check for him, the one that would have destroyed his eye, the one that nearly killed Jace, still shook him.

  In truth, maybe he had cost the guy his career. But both Max and Jace seemed to have moved on, and if his dad’s words were right . . .

  And I’d bet they each thought God couldn’t use them before His grace tracked them down, brought them back to His purposes. You can never outsin God’s love, Owen. Or limit what He can do with you if you let Him.

  “I feel a little guilty sitting here watching the game with Casper in jail,” Owen said.

  Jace glanced at him. “We went by to see him on our way here. He’s hanging in there but is pretty freaked out. Of course, your mother is keeping him well-fed, and I think Raina has just about camped out there, but yeah . . .” He clicked Mute on the remote. “This feels a little sacrilegious.”

  “Listen, we’ll all be in court in the morning, and he knows we’ve got his back,” Max said. “Trust me, I know about not wanting people’s pity. The last thing Casper needs is us over here crying for him.”

  Owen frowned at him. Pity? “What are you talking about, Max?”

  Max shot a look at Jace, then at Owen. “You don’t know? Your parents didn’t tell you?”