I nodded, and silence fell between us as I kept working on my dinner.
“So, why aren’t you married?” Mike asked. The question caught me in the middle of a beer-chug. I let it pour down the wrong hole, choking a little. Mike laughed and handed me a napkin. “Touchy subject?”
“No, just a surprise. You sound like my mother.”
“You seem relatively normal,” Mike mused, grinning, “No obvious deformities, no unpleasant body odor.”
“Body odor?”
“Some unfortunate souls have that problem,” he chuckled.
“Oh, my gosh,” I giggled.
“But, you smell quite nice. You’re intelligent and educated, self-sufficient, obviously beautiful-”
“That’s debatable.”
He shook his head and squinted his brown eyes. “Maybe you’re crazy.”
“Sometimes I think so.”
“Ah, if you were really crazy, you wouldn’t realize it,” he returned expertly. “So, why haven’t you been snagged up yet with so much in your favor?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“I asked first.”
“Honestly, I’m a bad judge of character, especially men, so the fact that I’m enjoying our date so much doesn’t really bode well for you,” I said. He laughed.
“Wow, had some real idiots, huh?”
“A few. Your turn.”
He folded his arms over his chest and leaned in closer. “I want the whole package,” he said, “and I don’t want to settle. I want someone who can make me crazy, and keep me sane. I have a lot of Seinfeld moments, you know. She separates her peas and carrots, so suddenly she’s not right for me or she has big hands or she’s a low talker. I know it sounds ridiculous, but-”
“No, I get it,” I said laughing. “Seinfeld’s ruined it for all us normal, imperfect girls!”
“I haven’t found a thing wrong with you,” he said. “Can’t imagine I will.”
I rolled my eyes. It was just a matter of time.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Puffer Fish
Puffer fish aren’t good swimmers. They aren’t particularly intimidating. They are scale-less and look buck-toothed. But, when threatened, puffer fish puff up by sucking in water, growing several body sizes bigger, becoming about as edible as a soccer ball. Predators are easily turned off by the transformation.
If I had that ability – to grow big and bold when intimidated – it would’ve happened twice on my date with Mike.
Ronnie Chambers sat alone at the bar, slouched over a half-empty pitcher of beer and a bowl of pretzels, eyeing a ballgame on the flatscreen TV. He wore a Brew-Thru T-shirt, jean shorts, and flip-flops. When Mike left the table to check in with work, I knew this was a nudge in the direction of Ronnie Chambers. I approached with caution.
“Ronnie, you don’t know me,” I said, “but I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am about your brother.” He turned to me, beady eyes flashing. He took a swig of beer, sloshed it around in his mouth, and gulped it down. Then, he belched.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.
“Um, I’m Delilah,” I said weakly. This was a mistake. “I, um, found him.”
“You wanna prize or something?” he asked.
“No, I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry,” I repeated. “It must be hard to lose a brother.”
He eyed me. “You wanna give me a sympathy lay?” Then, he chuckled. “That’ll make it feel better. Gimme a sympathy lay or lay off!” He turned back to his beer. I turned on my heels and went back to the table.
“What’s wrong?” Mike asked once he returned. I nodded in Ronnie Chambers’ direction.
“Do you know him?” I asked.
With lowered eyes, Mike said, “Yeah, he worked for me once. Little bastard stole two cases of lobster.”
“Seriously? You caught him?” I asked with widened eyes.
“Delilah, the kid was literally putting the boxes in his truck when I caught him,” he said, “and good thing I did, too. Lobsters are expensive. I knew something was going on, but I just couldn’t quite account for the losses-”
“Did you call the police?”
Mike shook his head. “I should have, but didn’t. He was seventeen at the time,” Mike explained, “and had only been working for me for about two weeks, him and his brother, Darryl.”
“They both worked for you?”
“Those boys have worked everywhere,” Mike replied. “They were kind of a package deal. Darryl was the one who talked me out of pressing charges.”
“He didn’t have anything to do with the theft?”
“Well, he wasn’t there that night,” Mike replied, “so at least he didn’t have anything to do with that theft. I’m pretty sure Ronnie got away with other stuff before I caught him.”
“How’d he convince you?”
“Hard life story, no father figure, all that jazz. He said that if Ronnie went to jail, it would crush his mother’s heart. So, I fired them both, banned them from the store, but didn’t press charges.”
“That’s a shame,” I said.
“What’s worse is that Darryl had potential,” Mike went on, “not so much as a cook, but he was really good with his hands. One time, the ice machine went out in the middle of dinner rush on a Saturday night. I was on the phone to the distributor to see when I could get a serviceman out to look at it. Darryl walked over to it, eyed it up and down, pulled it away from the wall to look at the machinery and a second later he was telling me that he could fix it. I didn’t believe him, of course. But, I had nothing to lose.” Mike took a long swig of beer.
“He fixed it, didn’t he?”
“Within twenty minutes,” Mike replied, smiling. “I was freaking amazed. He was a keeper, but I just couldn’t trust him after the lobster thing.”
After dinner, we took a few more turns on the dance floor before heading out of the building. Mike suggested a walk along the pier. Dinner conversation had followed us to the dance floor and then into the darkness. He was telling me about a teacher he had in high school – an anecdote that stemmed from a guarded discussion of what it was like for me to be a teacher – and my mind drifted back. There would be many parts of that life that I would miss.
“Where are you?” Mike asked. We’d stopped walking. I stared out at a black mass speckled with reflected moonlight.
“Sorry,” I said, “got distracted.”
“You were a million miles away.”
“Not that far. Just thinking,” I said.
“Ah, I know exactly what you were thinking about,” he decided with his best smile. “You are thinking about how perfect this date has been and how sexy you think I am, and of course, charming and smart and funny. You are thinking how you don’t want it to end, how you feel a bit conflicted-”
“Conflicted?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Conflicted because look at this place,” he said, motioning to the moon and the water. He stepped closer to me. “You know this is the perfect spot for a first kiss, but you’re a good girl and wouldn’t think about making the first move… or would you? And you’re wondering, hoping even, that I will, but you can’t count on me because I’m a man, after all. Should you take matters into your own hands, or lips, as it were? What to do? It’s a difficult dilemma.”
I couldn’t help but to laugh, even though my puffer fish instincts were starting to kick in. He was charming, and pleasant, but the idea of a kiss petrified-
That’s when he went for it.
Softly. Easily. He leaned down, hesitating just before our lips met, and then, there it was. My woman parts cheered. My little gray cells, however, stood at attention like soldiers and beckoned me to stop. All I could think was shit, shit, shit.
I pulled away. “Wait,” I insisted. “Call me crazy, but I have to stop.”
Mike smiled. “Too soon?”
I nodded. “I’m sorry, Mike.” Mike held my hand as he led me back to the Prius. We didn’t ta
lk. Five minutes into the drive, I guessed that I’d reached the Seinfeld side of Mike’s brain.
“I’m really sorry if I upset you-” he started up suddenly.
“No, you didn’t. It’s me. I thought I was ready for this and I’m not,” I admitted.
“Ah, don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself. Sometimes I come on too strong, like a Ferrari when I should be like a tricycle. If I make you feel uncomfortable next time, please feel free to hit me,” he joked. “A good slap to the cheek will set me straight.”
I chuckled. “Next time? You honestly want a next time?”
He glanced at me like I was crazy. “Duh.”
The worst thing I could say about Mike was that maybe he liked me too much. He did everything right. It was the best date I’d had in years. Still. Something was off.
He asked me for a second date on Thursday night, and strangely I agreed.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Intimacy
I slept in and dreamed about incessant tidal waves crashing into me and pushing me against buildings and cars and streets. I fell out of bed. Willie barked. My perfectly nice date with Mike had left me feeling rather hung-over and not because of the drinking. Dates and bad dreams combined to make me uneasy.
A honking horn pulled me from my room just after lunch. My Jeep sat in the driveway. Teague emerged from the driver’s seat. I raced out of the house and down the steps of the porch, Willie in tow.
“Oh, my gosh! I’ve never been so happy to see that Jeep,” I grinned.
Teague smiled. He wasn’t in uniform. A pale yellow polo shirt accented his blond hair and blue eyes. He handed me the keys, and then bent down to give Willie his due affection.
“The lab’s finished. Just took a little convincing.”
“Well, thank you,” I said. “You’ve been a life-saver. Want to come in for coffee?”
Teague nodded, and as we walked toward the house, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I think he’ll release the upstairs later today,” Teague went on. “The downstairs will take longer, but it’s better than nothing.”
“You’re right. If I can get him to let Damon back upstairs, I can at least move forward on the apartment. My grandparents have been great, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
“Are they home?” Teague asked perching himself on one of the three barstools at the kitchen counter. I reached for the coffee.
“Grandma’s shopping, and Grandpa’s fishing,” I reported.
“So, how’d it go last night?” he asked. I stopped my coffee preparations and looked over at him. “I know you went out with Ancellotti. Just wondering how it went.”
I gave him a suspicious look. “You stalking me? How’d you know?”
Teague grinned. “Mandy, honeypot. She made sure to call and tell me. Guess Mike’s been talking you up around work. How’d it go?”
“It was nice.”
“He’s a nice guy,” Teague returned, “a little cocky sometimes, but generally nice.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Plant little negative suggestions in my head,” I said. “Now, I’m going to think about that word ‘cocky’ and look for it in him. Not that he is.” I thought about the evening, and perhaps he had been cocky with the whole kiss thing. My shoulders sagged.
Teague grinned. The coffee pot started percolating and I leaned against the counter. Willie roamed around the kitchen and finally settled comfortably at Teague’s feet.
“Seriously, though, he was a gentleman?” Teague asked.
I gave him a funny look. “What? Are you going to beat him up if I say no?”
“Maybe,” he replied. “Did you sleep with him?”
My mouth dropped open. “How could you ask me that?”
“Hey, you opened the door. You asked me if I slept with Mandy. All’s fair, right?” he asked with a grin.
“Did you know that idiom – all’s fair in love and war – actually comes from the line the rules of fair play do not apply in love and war. It’s changed since John Lyly wrote it during the Renaissance. Everyone thinks it’s Shakespeare, but it’s not. Although Shakespeare read Lyly and liked his work,” I babbled.
“Are you dodging the question?” he asked, a little perturbed.
I smiled. “No, but it’s a little fun seeing you get upset. Though, I don’t understand why you would care. Of course, I didn’t sleep with him. I’m a bit offended you think I would have.”
Teague’s face relaxed, and he said, “Well, you were so taken with his stupid drink-naming thing. Who knows what you might fall for?”
I chuckled. “Want to know a very sad fact about me, Teague?”
“Tell me.” He leaned forward across the counter.
“I’m twenty-nine years old,” I said, “and I’ve been with two men. I suppose your number is higher. Mine should be, I think sometimes. Makes me feel like a loser. And sometimes I don’t feel bad because I regret them both. I filled my bed with a warm body one night only to replace it with cold regret the next.”
“My number’s higher,” he admitted, “but one, the right one, would have been enough.”
I glanced over at him, and though he didn’t say it, felt distinctly that he was talking about me. I brushed off the thought, deciding that I was being the cocky one.
I took a deep breath, my self-exposure suddenly making me feel very nervous, and poured the coffee. I offered Teague cream and sugar, thankful for a distraction. He accepted both.
“When I think about it,” I began awkwardly, “I don’t like to count my number that way, by just sex. Intimacy is more important.”
“What do you mean?”
“Intimacy’s what we all want – to feel uniquely connected to each other. Sex is just one very narrow way that can happen, and sometimes, intimacy isn’t achieved that way at all.” My eyes fell when I considered Jonathan Dekker. “It’s more important to count how many times you’ve felt that amazing soul connection. That’s true intimacy. Much harder to come by.” I stared into my coffee cup, realizing that I’d just bumbled into a conversation I didn’t want to have. Maybe he would change the subject.
“Two.” Teague said it without hesitation. “That’s my number, then.”
I smiled softly. “So, your number fell. Sex isn’t intimate, then.”
“It hasn’t always been.” He shrugged.
“My number’s four,” I told him.
“What counts as intimacy for you, then?”
I shook my head. “No, that’s okay.”
“Hey, you opened the door,” he repeated smiling. “Can’t close it now.”
I huffed out in one breath, “When I was fourteen, I made out with Charlie Baker behind the lockers at school. He was my first boyfriend, and this one time, he actually showed me his… well, you know.” I blushed and rolled my eyes. Teague’s mouth dropped open.
“No, I don’t know,” he kidded. “What did he show you? His baseball card collection? A picture of his mom?”
“Cut it out!” I laughed. “You know!”
“What’d you do?” Teague asked between chuckles.
I pressed my lips together, and then admitted, “I laughed and ran away.”
“You sure know how to hurt a guy,” Teague laughed.
“Yes, Charlie’s in therapy now because of me,” I agreed, “but I didn’t know what to do. There was nothing wrong with it, and I tried to tell him that when he broke up with me. I had trouble convincing him that it was just my defense mechanisms kicking in.” I shrugged. “Anyway, I consider Charlie my first intimate experience because he shared something personal.”
“No kidding,” Teague replied, still laughing.
“And, poor Charlie taught me not to jump into these kinds of things without taking it seriously because you never know when someone might, well, be ready for something you’re not.”
Teague nodded. “What about the others?”
“Well, um, the losers I told you about befo
re,” I finished. “My college boyfriend and my last boyfriend. I was very intimate with them. They weren’t so much with me. One-sided intimacy still counts.”
“But, you said four,” Teague reminded me, though he didn’t have to. I looked down at my feet.
Teague’s shoulders sloped. “Please don’t say Ancellotti.”
I smirked. “No, dummy. The second one was you.” I rolled my eyes. “Guess that’s why I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut when you’re-” I was halted by Teague rising from his barstool and coming around the counter.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Teague replied softly. He stopped a foot in front of me, penetrating me with his gorgeous eyes and sweet smile, which grew as he said, “You were my first.”
I crinkled my eyebrows together, and thought about laughing and running away, just as I had done with Charlie Baker. This moment was becoming uncomfortably intimate, all thanks to me and my super big mouth.
Teague didn’t attempt to come any closer, perhaps seeing my distress. “Delilah, I thought about what you said, the whole best and worst thing. I’m not sure I-”
“Teague, it was a long time ago,” I cut in. “It’s probably dumb to even-”
“Could have been centuries ago, it’s still important,” he countered. “The best, I get. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve replayed that day in my head over the years. It’s been a light in some dark places in my life. But, the worst, too? How?”
“Seriously?” I returned. I edged by him and took my mug to the sink. I heard Grandma Betty’s car pulling in to the carport. Willie perked up. “We’ve got company.”
“The worst thing about it was that we didn’t do it again,” Teague replied. I raised an eyebrow and shook my head. “Is that what you mean?”
I started to head down the hallway. “I have to help Grandma. She’ll have-” Teague grabbed my elbow, bringing me and my mouth to a stop.
“Delilah, I really don’t know. You have to tell me,” he urged.
I raised my eyebrow at him, and said, “I don’t take rejection well. Coming from you, I could hardly take it at all.” Grandma Betty honked her horn to hurry me along. “Let’s just talk about it some other time.” I pulled away and rushed down the hall.
Sea-Devil: A Delilah Duffy Mystery Page 13