‘Woo him how?’ I sighed. I was suddenly exhausted. I wanted a shower and my pyjamas and some fucking comprehension. I had a feeling that at this point I’d get two out of three.
‘Woo him the way you’d want him to woo you.’ My mother fumbled in the basket under the coffee table for a takeout menu. She snorted when she dropped it. ‘I think we all need some food.’
‘Wait! Wait! Forget the food –’
‘We need food,’ Brani said with a giggle.
I stared at her and then my grandmother began to chuckle. ‘Jesus,’ I sighed. ‘We’re all drunk.’
‘Yes, I believe we are,’ my mother said. ‘But as far as the wooing – the big grand gesture – only you know how to do that, doll. You know him and you know yourself and you are just filled with memories of the time you’ve shared. So use it.’
I sighed. ‘I will have to think about this.’
‘Why are you sighing?’ Brani asked. But she gave me a sly smile and I had to suppress the urge to pop her in the nose. She looked smug.
‘Because I know you guys are right.’
‘Sometimes the stuff worth doing is not so easy to do,’ she said.
‘Thanks, Yoda,’ I snapped and then downed the rest of my wine.
Two more glasses of wine, three pieces of pizza, one shower and a pair of sushi pyjamas later, I was in my bed pondering my big grand gesture. It didn’t come easily because I was afraid. I finally had an idea as I drifted off, listening to the fall rain tap against my window.
Chapter Thirty-Two
I had sent the text early. With instructions. Ed had assured me that they’d function just fine without me and that they had my list and instructions. The Rotunda project was nearly wrapped up and he’d sealed my fate by saying, ‘You deserve a goddamn day off, Clover.’
I packed my car and wore my heartiest boots and jeans. A huge caramel-coloured sweater coat over a thermal top was enough to keep me half warm. My mother had given me an ocean-coloured scarf to wear.
‘Where’d you get this?’
‘Florida.’
‘Why do they sell scarves like this in Florida?’
‘Because they like to pretend it’s cold in the winter.’
‘Is it?’ I asked, facing the mirror, liking the way the maritime blue-grey set off my eyes.
‘No. Not if you’re from up north,’ she said and laughed.
The scarf whipped across my face when I pushed the button to lower my window at the checkpoint.
‘Clover-honey-flower-child.’ Marcus grinned at me from the booth. I could see the small ceramic heater aimed his way.
‘Ah, that nickname never gets old,’ I said.
‘Sure it did. In sixth grade. How’s your Gram?’
‘Good. Yours?’
‘Excellent. Still telling me what to do whenever she gets a mind to.’
I laughed. ‘I think that’s their job, Marcus.’
‘I think so.’ He leaned through the window and waved off the six dollars I offered him. ‘You sure about this? You could have this meeting so many other places. Warm places.’
‘Has to be here,’ I said. ‘Best I can do. But I won’t get in trouble, will I? Or worse yet, get you in trouble?’
‘Nah. I’m here with two other guys. I’ve told them you’ll be here and not to worry. And to check with me if they’re not sure of something. I can trust you’ll behave yourself?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Enjoy your stay at Hammerman Beach.’
I laughed. ‘But what about –’
‘I’ll be here when he arrives. I’ll let him through. Tell him where to go.’
‘Thanks, Marcus. You’re the best still-my-friend-from-sixth-grade a girl could have.’
‘Wait until my grandmother runs into your grandmother. They can compare notes on how wonderful we are.’
I laughed. ‘We are wonderful,’ I said and touched his hand, gave him a squeeze. ‘Thanks again.’
‘No problem. Good luck. I hope you get your guy.’
‘Me, too,’ I said.
I drove down the windy road past a playground built entirely of rubber truck tires and a picnic area that instructed people to watch for deer. Barring special circumstances, the park and beach were supposed to be closed for the season. I was a special circumstance. I had two hours to get ready. When I turned into the park, I heard my gear slide and rattle.
‘Hold on, fellas,’ I said softly and found the parking spot closest to the fire pits. I had a fire to build.
* * *
The water from the bay was grey and choppy. The recent rain, coupled with the super-storm, had served to bump the waterline up along the aged wooden pier. I worked fast to get a fire going on one of the Hibachi grills and wondered again if I was insane.
‘Couldn’t do something a normal girl would do?’ I snorted.
When I took the lobsters out I felt a wave of guilt, like the two other times I’d prepped them. ‘Sorry, boys.’ The corn, potatoes and a bouquet garni went in too. I replaced the lid and put an old checkered sheet from a thrift store over the ancient picnic table.
Classy.
I rolled my eyes at myself. If he wanted to be with me, this was me. Not to say I’d never go to Paris, or couldn’t even get used to Paris. But I was a normal girl from a normal place who never had any money. The one person in my life with any marked amount of money had been like Santa Claus in my life. Heard about but never seen.
The wind tossed spray from the water but there was no actual rain. Just a moody grey sky that kept a dark cap on the day.
‘Is this where the party is?’
I thought I’d jump out of my skin, but settled for a very unflattering screech. ‘Jesus Christ, Dorian Martin,’ I finally managed. ‘Where’s your car?’
He chuckled, the smile lighting up his handsome face. It made me want to grab him and kiss him.
Fuck it.
I grabbed his face and pressed myself against him so quickly we almost went down in a heap. I made another noise of surprise and this time he added one to match mine but I was too busy trying to get my lips against his. His mouth was yielding and warm as I kissed him and he kissed me back. Big hands settling on the small of my back to hold me close.
‘I’m parked up further. The hawk was circling the parking lot.’
My mind struggled – the hawk – oh, yeah, I’d read about her. Guarding her eggs, her nest in one of the parking-lot lights by the beach. They were hoping by spring when the beach reopened for regular visitors she’d be less territorial.
‘Hawk,’ I said stupidly. I kissed him again, running my tongue over his until he made a low growling noise.
‘Yes, hawk.’ He pulled back long enough to study my tableau. ‘And what’s this?’
‘This is …’ I kissed him again, capturing his lower lip with my teeth.
Dorian cupped the back of my head, holding me to him. He pressed his body against mine, holding me close with his free arm. I was bound by him, encompassed by him. I melted into it, gave over to the feel of his lips and teeth and tongue – of his desire. And mine.
We stumbled back a few steps and my back hit the trunk of a small tree. Dorian took the advantage and melded his body to mine. Thigh to thigh, belly to belly, he kissed me harder. The rough wood of the trunk scraped at my back and it was the most wonderful feeling.
‘This is?’ he prompted.
Before I could answer, he gathered my wrists in his hands and pinned them down by my sides. His tongue tangled with mine again, his kiss nearly frantic. I felt the same pounding desperation in my body. Now that we were close – now that we were here – I wanted him to understand what was going on inside me. I wanted him to know about the huge emotions slamming through me.
I pushed him back, trying for a deep breath. ‘This is my grand gesture.’ I touched his face. Stroked my thumb over the cut of his jaw. There was just enough stubble there for me to feel its rough texture. I smiled at him.
‘Is it now?’
‘Yes. This is … this is it. I can’t fly you anywhere –’
‘I don’t care.’
I put my finger over his lips and he kissed it briefly. But he didn’t move my finger and he didn’t speak any more.
‘Will you listen to me?’ I asked. There was a knot the size of a walnut in my throat. I tried to swallow.
‘Of course,’ he mumbled. Then he kissed my finger again and went silent. His fingers moved softly, restlessly, against my waist. It was almost distracting but not quite. I liked him touching me, so I let it be.
‘I’m sorry.’
Dorian opened his mouth and I pressed my finger to his lips more forcefully. Reminding him. He shut his mouth.
‘I’m sorry I pushed you away because you have money and because I let that … woman scare me off.’
Confusion was evident in his eyes and I realised he had no idea what I was talking about. I rushed on.
‘I’m sorry that I did to you what some people in your position would have done to me for not having money. I denied you, assuming I’d never fit into your world. And I might not –’
Again his mouth opened and I covered it with my whole hand this time. Amusement shone in his eyes.
‘I might not fit in your world, but I at least want to try. If you’ll have me. I mean … I …’ I shook my head and tears filled my eyes. ‘This is hard,’ I whispered.
He nodded and smiled behind my hand. The look on his face told me that yes, it is hard, but you can do it.
‘I love you, Dorian. I missed you when you were gone. I … ached for you,’ I said, my voice shivering with unshed tears. ‘When I saw you in the paper with her, I cracked inside.’
I took his face in my hands, trusting him to be quiet as I spoke. ‘I ran away from you and I …’ I shrugged. ‘I’m so sorry. It was unfair. I saw your life as so opposite to mine, I let that dictate my feelings. I couldn’t leave Gram just then, but I shouldn’t have just written you off because you didn’t understand that. Why would you? I think our childhoods were very different.’
He laughed but that was all. Just a half-bitter laugh that he quickly swallowed and covered with a smile.
I touched each button on his plaid button-down. ‘I think mine was full of love and approval and very little money and yours was –’
‘Just the opposite,’ he broke in.
I nodded, feeling sad. ‘Just the opposite.’ Then I gasped.
‘What?’ Dorian asked.
‘Lobster!’ I said.
‘Lobster? Pour moi?’
I cocked my head.
He let me go and laughed, ‘I did just get back from Paris, after all.’
‘Yes, Paris,’ I said, trying not to sound bitter about it.
‘The longest trip of my life,’ he said. ‘My mother, who has mellowed some since my father died, and Natalie, who never will.’
‘How long did it take –’
Again he cut me off. ‘To see the error of my ways? To regret going? To want to jump out of a plane and end it all?’
I giggled, moving past him to pull out the lobster and veg. I dumped them into a bigger pot lined with a colander I’d hauled out of my SUV. Then I put a small pan of butter on the still hot grill but not over the actual coals.
‘Not long,’ he said, wrapping his arms around me from behind. His body fitted to mine felt right. His breath on my shoulder felt perfect. He kissed the back of my neck and I found that my world made sense in that moment.
‘No?’ I asked, stirring the butter. I studiously ignored the fact that his erection was pressed to my backside. Fitted neatly in the seam of my ass.
‘Not at all. When you’ve been trapped in a grand building with an amazing woman, it’s hard to ignore the little spoiled traits of a person like Natalie.’
‘It’s not her fault,’ I surprised us both by saying. ‘It’s how she was raised.’
‘True.’ He dragged his tongue up the back of my neck and a shiver began between my shoulder blades and travelled up my neck. ‘But I was also raised to be a brat and I try not to be. I’ve realised that it is not a perk of being rich, that entitled attitude – it’s a curse.’
His hands moved up my ribcage slowly. Fingers splayed, they nearly touched the undersides of my breasts. I cursed the thick sweater I wore. I wanted to feel his hands on my skin.
I pulled away and tried to put some distance between us.
‘What? Did I say something?’
‘God, no,’ I said, getting the butter fully melted. I moved it to the picnic table to let it cool so I could pour the top layer off. ‘I just need to think about what I’m doing.’
‘I’m not really hungry,’ he said, watching me. ‘For food.’
I put the plates out and the boil in its colander in the centre of the table. ‘Please let me do this,’ I said. ‘It’s my big gesture. It’s my I’m sorry and my thank you and my love all rolled into one chilly autumn picnic on the beach.’
He rubbed the toe of his boot against a swatch of weeds. ‘I’ll do anything you want,’ he said.
‘Then let me do this. Have a seat. Surely we can spare the time for a glass of …’ I rummaged through the cooler at my feet. ‘Moscato!’
‘I do like Moscato. Goes well with seafood.’
‘Well, see that,’ I laughed, pouring out two glasses – in actual glasses, might I add. ‘I could be a rich person. Though this Moscato was only ten dollars.’
‘Price doesn’t matter. It’s how good something is.’
‘Yeah?’ I felt my face turning red. I hated it but there was no stopping it.
‘Yes. And you are priceless, Clover. You know that, right? You know that I don’t care about anything other than how you make me feel. How I make you feel. How we are together.’
I tried to swallow but it was difficult. I plated our meal and put the butter on the table. ‘Come on, now. You’re going to make me cry. Nothing ruins lobster faster than crying.’
We sat and began tearing into our lunch. Overhead the hawk cried and then circled once before finding her nest. The place where she belonged.
I touched his finger with mine. ‘You make me feel like that hawk,’ I said, nodding.
Dorian looked over his shoulder and I saw him grin. ‘Voracious, predatory and territorial?’
‘Like I’ve found my place. Where I belong.’
‘I thought you said you didn’t belong in my world.’ When he turned to face me his eyes spoke volumes. Serious volumes about love and trust and how much I’d hurt him. It wasn’t intentional, it was just a fact.
‘I belong wherever you are. My world, your world –’
‘How about our world? Which is what I plan to make it.’
I nodded and then focused on my meal. The first bite of lobster tasted like nothing at all. The second was sweet and perfect. Dorian grunted and swished another hunk of meat through the clarified butter.
‘What?’ I asked. I felt shy for some reason. I had never cooked for him, I realised.
‘That boil in Nantucket?’
‘Yeah?’
‘They should have hired you.’ His smile was so big it made me smile. ‘You kicked their asses as far as good seafood boil goes. This is amazing.’
‘See, I’m valuable.’
He took my hand and squeezed it. My heart staggered in my chest. ‘Clover, you could burn water and I’d love you. You’re valuable to me because you’re valuable. Period.’
‘Oh,’ I said.
‘Oh,’ he echoed.
We ate in silence until we couldn’t stand it any more.
Chapter Thirty-Three
A stiff wind kicked up and I clamped my hands down on the food and plates as best I could. Dorian looked up at the sky and chuckled. ‘I think the gods have different plans for us today. I think a storm’s coming in.’
Storms made me think of Dorian now. Wind and rain had a bizarre effect – they made me feel somewhat cosy and safe because they triggered memories of our time in the Rotunda to
gether.
‘Damn.’
‘We can move this into the back of my SUV. What’s the point of having an SUV that could fit a small circus if not to have an impromptu picnic in the back of it?’
Before I could even consider it, a big fat drop of rain hit me in the face and I sighed. ‘I think we’d better hurry.’
‘I can pull it up closer.’
I eyed the hawk, considered her. ‘We can load my car and then drive up to yours.’
‘I’m by the boathouses. Pretty view. I backed in. We can eat with the tail open so we have something pretty to look at.’
I nodded, starting to gather the gear.
‘Or we could leave it shut and I could just look at you. Then I’d have a beautiful view.’
I snorted, rolled my eyes. ‘Puh-leeze.’ But I felt that blush crowding my cheeks again.
He stroked my cheeks before kissing me gently. ‘This is your show but that is one hundred per cent sincere. A bit cheesy, I admit –’ he winked at me and the wink went straight to my stomach, warmed me and slid lower ‘– but still sincere.’
I started to shove everything in a picnic basket and he grabbed the cooler. ‘Let’s go. Before the sky opens up.’
The occasional fat drops had turned into steady fat drops. The day was cool and grey so the rain was icy cold. It started to come down faster and I let out a startled – and, yes, mortifying – squeal. ‘Hurry! No time!’ I yelled, rushing towards the far side of the beach where I could just make out the roof of his blue SUV.
‘We could just –’
‘Too late!’ I shouted and put on some speed. Thank God it was cold and I’d worn boots instead of trying to flail around in the fine beach sand in flip-flops.
Dorian ran behind me laughing. I thought it was the best sound I’d ever heard. Our feet slapping on the macadam once we hit the paved paths up to the parking lot. Harsh breath and a loud whoop! from me when I damn near dropped the basket of food. I could still feel heat baking off it and wondered if the butter had survived my insane jog or if it was all over the meal I’d prepared. Oh, well, it was butter. It would be good either way.
The rain began to pelt us harder and a slow, lazy roll of thunder sounded. ‘Why is it thundering?’ I shrieked. ‘Isn’t it too late in the year for that?’
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