She pocketed her receipt and turned back to James. “Thanks for holding him.”
She held out her arms to take the cage and he frowned. “I can carry him to your car for you.”
“I don’t have a car,” she said. “I didn’t need one in Brooklyn so I’m hoofing it back to the bakery.”
“No, you’re not,” he said. “I’ll give you a ride.”
“That’s not necessary,” she said.
“It’s no trouble.”
“No, thank you.”
“Oh, by all that is holy, let the man give you a ride,” Jessie said. “Walking all the way back to Making Whoopie carrying that cage is just dumb.”
“Are you calling me dumb?” Carly asked. She was embarrassed and irritated all at the same time and she would have no problem taking it out on Mac’s old nemesis.
“Yes,” Jessie said. “Because you’re being dumb, ridiculous, silly, take your pick.”
“Now, let’s all just calm—” Gavin began as he stepped out of another exam room.
“I am not! You have no idea what’s going on,” Carly argued. Deep down she knew Jessie was right, she was being an idiot, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
“Yes, I do,” Jessie said. “I’d have to be in a coma to miss the drama unfolding. Now just accept James’s offer of help and stop being such a butthead!”
“Butthead,” Ike repeated. Then he laughed, sounding just like Carly. “Butthead.”
“Aw, man, now see what you’ve done,” Carly said. She eyeballed the precocious green bird. “Now there’s another bad word in his vocabulary.”
She glanced up at Jessie and saw her turn away. Her shoulders were shaking and for a second Carly thought she was crying. But then a laugh bubbled out of her and she doubled over and slapped her knee.
Carly looked at Gavin in outrage but noted that he had his lips pressed tightly together and looked as if he was having a small seizure. She rolled her eyes.
“Go ahead before you explode,” she said.
Gavin burst out laughing, shaking his head as if he was trying to stop but just couldn’t.
Enjoying the response, Ike began to repeat, “Butthead, butthead, butthead.”
“Oh, my god!” Carly looked in desperation at James. “Let’s get him out of here.”
James whistled and the basset hound Carly hadn’t seen until now came barreling toward them in his harness with his wheels spinning. James picked up the cage and led the way to the door. He paused to call over his shoulder, “Gavin, Hot Wheels and I will be back in a bit.”
Gavin nodded while still laughing. Carly gave them one more glower before marching out the door, wishing it wasn’t automatic so she could slam it behind her.
James led the way to his car and Carly watched as he opened up the back and put Ike’s cage inside. He then secured it with a seatbelt. After the bird was safe, he lowered a ramp from the back of the SUV and helped Hot Wheels up the incline, securing him and his support wheels in the open area in the back.
“I cannot believe she actually called me a b-u-t-t-head!” Carly fumed.
“Butthead,” Ike said.
“Uh-oh,” James said. “Looks like Ike is a good speller.”
“I mean that was out of line, right?” Carly asked. She reached out and let Hot Wheels sniff her hand. When he wagged she gently rubbed his velvety soft ears.
James didn’t answer but took Carly’s elbow and led her to the front of his car. There he opened the door and, once again, picked her up and put her in the passenger’s seat.
“I mean just because she is working for Gavin now doesn’t mean she gets to tell people off. I still remember when she made off with Mac’s husband. She can call me names but she’ll always be a home wrecker to me.”
“Mac was married?” James asked. “I thought she was with Gavin.”
“She is.”
“So, she’s divorced,” he said. He turned on the engine and merged onto the road.
“No, she never married the guy. Jessie stole him right out of the church,” Carly clarified. “Which turned out to be a good thing because Seth Connolly is a horrible, horrible person, a drunk, a letch, a terrible husband, and a lousy father.”
“Sort of sounds like she saved Mac a lot of heartbreak,” James said.
“That’s not the point,” Carly said. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the window.
“Then what is the point?” he asked. “Why did you get so mad when she suggested that refusing to take a ride from me was du— not smart?”
“Nice save,” she said. She turned to look at him. “It just irritated me.”
“Why?” he asked.
She huffed a breath. She knew she was pouting. She didn’t care.
“It just did,” she said.
“Again, why?” he asked.
“Because she was right!” Carly snapped. “There, are you satisfied?”
When he turned his head to look at her, his eyes were a scorching shade of blue.
“Not even close,” he said.
“Oh.” Her voice was little more than a breathless sigh.
Carly’s chest felt tight. She was pretty sure no one had ever looked at her the way James was looking at her now. She ripped her gaze away from his and stared out the front windshield.
She wasn’t used to having a man in her business, knowing about her life, giving her rides, or meeting her friends. It was weird. Her usual compartmentalization was being compromised and she didn’t like it.
But the fact was, she wasn’t going to be able to hide from this guy—not like she’d be able to in Brooklyn. She studied the town in front of them. In her mind, Bluff Point had always been safe and small. It was the place of her childhood, where she spent summers on the beach and winters on the sledding hill on the outskirts of town.
It was where Friday and Saturday nights inevitably involved mayhem and mischief with her friends at Belmont Park, the small amusement park that sat at one end of the town’s five-mile boardwalk, which was where she’d gotten her first kiss, right at the end of the town pier from Johnny Jensen. It had been wet and sloppy, not at all what she had expected, like so much of life.
As she glanced at the mom-and-pop shops that framed the town square, she knew she should take comfort in their constancy. The Millers had owned the dry cleaners for four generations of starched shirts, the Tripletts had opened their collectible shop when she was a little girl. She still remembered going in there with her grandmother and having Nana gasp “Don’t touch!” the entire time, making her skittish and nervous to the point where she still got edgy when she went near the shop twenty-five years later.
Bluff Point was the town which boomed with tourists in the summer and contracted in the winter with their departure, leaving only the natives to struggle through the blizzards as best they could, like animals resisting hibernation.
She glanced back at James. His gaze was on the road, and she took a moment to appreciate the stubborn set to his scruffy jaw, the nose that was bent as if it’d been broken, the long eyelashes that were thick and dark and framed his eyes so becomingly, making them soulful when he gazed at her and kissed her with his eyes wide open.
Ack! She did not need to be going there. Carly heard the sound of a record needle scratching across a vinyl album in her head. That was the noise she needed to think of every time her brain decided to revisit last night’s sexcapades.
She had to forget all about it. Period. James was right. There was no way they were going to live in a town this small and not run into each other . . . a lot. The only way to deal with the situation was to confront it head on and pretend it had never happened.
He pulled up in front of Making Whoopie and parked at the curb. Before he could hop out to get her door for her, Carly grabbed his arm.
“You were right. We a
re going to keep running into each other, aren’t we?” she asked. “Not on purpose but just while going about our daily lives.”
“I’d say that’s a safe bet,” he said. He didn’t sound sad about it.
“Then I think we need to agree to be . . . something else,” she said.
“Like pals?” he asked.
“No, pals don’t see each other naked,” she said. “Well, if they do, it’s not interactively naked.”
He laughed. “Is that what we were? Interactively naked?”
“What else would you call it?” she asked.
“Lovers,” he said. “You know, like a grown-up.”
“No, the word lovers implies an ongoing thing,” she said. Just hearing the word come out of his mouth made her pant and sweat. “And we are not.”
“Maybe,” he said, obviously still not conceding his case for more than one night. “But we are going to run into each other, so we will definitely have some sort of association.”
“Acquaintances?” she suggested.
“No. Your mailman is an acquaintance. He does not know the thrill of having your thighs wrapped around his head while he—”
“Stop!”
Carly felt a hot flush fill her face and she pressed her hands to her cheeks and gave him a look—with one eyebrow raised higher than the other—that clearly stated no more of that.
“Does he?” James asked, looking intrigued.
“I have a mail lady and, no, she doesn’t.”
“On a very dirty and completely perverted fantasy level, that disappoints,” he said. Then he winked at her and Carly couldn’t help but laugh.
“Okay, fine, what are we then?” she asked. He shrugged and she said, “Okay, I guess friends it is.”
“You’re friend zoning me?”
“It sounds so cold when you say it like that.”
“Because it was so warm and fuzzy when you said it.”
“It’s a solid step up from what I usually offer.”
“Which is nothing?”
“Exactly. Friends could be good for us.”
“I don’t see how. I mean, broccoli is good for us, too,” he said. He leaned in close so that his lips were just a breath away from her ear. “But last night did not remind me of broccoli, not even a little.”
Chapter 12
Carly shivered and turned away to open her door. Last night hadn’t reminded her of broccoli either, but she wasn’t about to say that. If pressed she would have described the night as one of Jillian’s classic whoopie pies, thick rich chocolate cookies filled with decadent vanilla marshmallow cream filling. Her body started to overheat just thinking about it, so she tried to picture Brussels sprouts, cabbage—anything bitter or bland.
James climbed out of his side of the car and circled around to where Ike’s cage was strapped in. He opened the door and unfastened the seatbelt that had been holding the cage in place. He lifted the cage out and Carly took a second to lean over the seat and pet Hot Wheels one more time. He gave a soft woof and she smiled.
“I think he likes you,” James said.
“He’s a good dog,” Carly said. “I think he’s barking up the wrong tree trying to be besties with Ike, but he did rescue him from the bushes and all.”
“So, he’s your hero?”
“Something like that,” Carly said. She leaned over the seat and kissed the dog on the head. “See ya, Hot Wheels, you good doggy, you handsome boy, you.”
When she straightened up, James was looking at her with a weird expression.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head as if trying to clear it. “But if you ever talk to me like that, I will fall to the floor belly-up and let you do whatever you want with me.”
Carly rolled her eyes as she led the way into the shop. She tried to squash down the part of her that was ridiculously charmed by his words. James followed with Ike and she tried not to be aware of his nearness. Just friends, just friends, just friends. Yes, this was her mantra now.
The bakery was empty except for Jillian, who was arranging a display of double vanilla whoopie pies in the glass case. She glanced up at the two of them and her jaw dropped.
“Hello,” she said, which was code for what the heck is happening here? It wouldn’t sound like that to anyone else but Carly had known Jillian long enough to pick up the shock and surprise in the not-so-subtle nuance of the way she spoke.
“Hi,” Carly said. “You remember James.”
“Vaguely.” Jillian smiled.
“Hi, Jillian, right?” he asked. She nodded. “And this is your bakery?”
“How did you know?” Her voice was suspicious.
“You mentioned it this morning when you came to pick up Carly,” he said.
“Oh.” Jillian looked wary. She looked at Carly. “Where’s Zach?”
“No idea,” Carly said. “He ditched me at Gavin’s.”
Jillian frowned. “That’s not like him.”
“I know. I think it had something to do with Jessie,” she said. “They don’t like each other. I take that back. Jessie doesn’t like any men but I think she dislikes Zach more than most, and that’s saying something.”
“Why? Zach is a sweetheart,” Jillian said.
“Unless you date him.”
“Oh, yeah, he’s not at all datable,” Jillian agreed. She looked alarmed. “Oh, did Jessie date him?”
“No, apparently they’re neighbors and she sees the comings and goings at his place and does not approve,” Carly said.
James stifled a laugh and Carly met his gaze. He shrugged and said, “Phrasing.”
“Poor word choice,” she conceded. “Apparently, she didn’t know that the girls she sees are the brewery’s field marketers—you know, the girls who give out samples of beer at bars and restaurants—and that Zach as head of marketing is in charge of them.”
“Did anyone inform her otherwise?” Jillian asked.
“It slipped my mind,” Carly said, not a total lie since it had never occurred to her to tell Jessie who the girls were, mostly because of the sudden appearance of James.
She glanced at him and noticed that he hadn’t moved, but stood holding the cage, looking about the petite bakery as if trying to figure out how to navigate without taking out the furniture.
Making Whoopie was one of the smaller shops on Main Street. It had a row of three booths along the back wall, done in cheery red vinyl, four café tables in the center of the bakery, and counter seating that ran along the windows in front of the shop. On a busy day, they could seat about thirty people comfortably.
The glass display case separated the shop from the kitchen and inside the case were rows and rows of freshly baked whoopie pies. A self-serve soda fountain and shelves of locally made Maine merchandise filled the wall nearest the cash register.
“Here,” Jillian said. “You can put his cage right here.”
She helped him set the large cage on a table by the window. James stepped back and shook out his hands as if carrying the cage had caused his fingers to cramp.
“You all right, Ike?” he asked the bird.
“Okay, butthead,” Ike said. Then he started to sing.
Jillian burst out laughing—then looked contrite, but continued to laugh.
“Turn away,” Carly ordered. “Gavin says we can’t encourage any bad words by reacting to them. He said we need to teach him new words and react positively to those and hopefully he’ll let go of the bad words if he gets no reaction to them.”
“I’m trying,” Jillian said, then she laughed again. “Oh, I can’t stop.”
With a wave, she left the storefront and disappeared through the door that led to the kitchen, still chuckling.
“I think this is going to be harder than I thought,” Carly said.
She looked at
the green parrot, who was bobbing his head at her in that ridiculously cute way he had. She was torn between wanting to hug him and throttle him at the same time.
“Nah, he’s a smart bird,” James said. “He’ll figure it out.”
“I hope so,” she said. “I already put an ad in the paper to see if anyone wanted him.”
“So, you’re really going to sell him just like that?”
Carly frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. She could feel the judgment coming off him and she didn’t like it.
“I don’t do pets,” she said. “The woman who left her animals to me knew that and, yet, she left them to me anyway. I can’t imagine what she was thinking. She had to know I was going to give them away.”
“Maybe she thought you needed them,” he said. “Maybe she thought they needed you.”
His voice was so kind and gentle, Carly wanted to punch him in the throat. She didn’t need anyone and if the dog and bird needed someone, Mrs. G had picked a bad someone.
“She was wrong.”
They stared at each other for a moment. Carly could see that there was more he wanted to say. He opened his mouth; he hesitated; he shut his mouth. Smart man.
Carly took off her jacket and purse and tucked them below the main counter. She began to fuss with the items on display just to look busy. James got the hint.
“I guess I’ll see you around,” he said.
“Yeah, sure, thanks for your help,” Carly said. She forced herself to be gracious and added, “You saved me from a miserable walk back from Gavin’s and I do appreciate it.”
“What are friends for?” he asked.
Carly walked him to the door. Right now, she needed a snack, a nap, a cup of coffee, and to widen her proximity to this man by an acre or two, and not necessarily in that order.
She opened the door but resisted giving him a hearty shove through it, much as she would have liked to get him gone, for her peace of mind if nothing else.
“Bye, Carly,” he said.
“Bye, James,” she said.
“Aw, come here, buddy,” he said. He opened his arms wide. “Come in for the real thing.”
Barking Up the Wrong Tree Page 11