Harbor Nights

by Marcia Evanick

  She’d rather French kiss a toad. “I’m real sorry, Wendell, but I can’t.” Behind Wendell’s back, she saw Ned get out of his truck in front of his parents’ house and look her way.

  “Oh, I insist.” Wendell started to get that desperate look in his eyes as he took a step closer.

  She took a hesitant step backward, realizing that she didn’t know this man at all. “I said I was sorry, but I can’t have dinner with you or go on a tour of the town.” She held the roses back out to him, hoping he would take them and leave.

  “Why not?” Wendell didn’t raise his voice, but there was a new, harder edge to it.

  “Because she already has a dinner date”—Ned Porter stepped up behind Wendell—“with me.” Ned never took his gaze off Wendell.

  “Porter?”

  “Kirby?” Ned’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I see you brought Norah some flowers.”

  She didn’t have a date with Ned, but she wasn’t about to bring that up now. She was too thankful to him, once again, for riding to her rescue. What was with this town and men showing up on her doorstep? “The flowers are from the Chamber of Commerce,” she said, hoping to defuse whatever situation was brewing.

  “I’m sure the Chamber would love to know they are paying for the flowers Wendell hands out to all the single women who move into town.” Ned took a step closer to her. “Right, Kirby?”

  “I bought those roses with my own money.” Wendell looked offended and guilty at the same time.

  “So why did you tell Norah they were from the Chamber of Commerce? Are you using your Presidency as a pickup line? Isn’t that against the bylaws or something?”

  Wendell nervously straightened his too tight tie and tugged at the hem of his suit jacket. The buttons were a little tight across his stomach. “I wasn’t trying to pick up Ms. Stevens, as you so ineloquently put it. I was offering to take her for a nice dinner and then to give her a personal tour around town.”

  “I’m sure the Chamber values your devotion to your position.” Ned’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “As you can see, Ms. Stevens has other plans for this evening. But I’m sure she appreciates the roses. I happen to know she’s quite partial to them.”

  Norah was getting tired of being treated like she wasn’t even there. She thought about saying something to both men, but she noticed a slight flush on Wendell’s face. She wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed at being caught asking her out or if he was angry. She didn’t want to push the subject either way, and she really didn’t want Wendell Kirby showing back up on her doorstep tomorrow or any other night. Ned obviously didn’t have a problem with people thinking they were dating. She took a step closer to him. “Thank you, Wendell, for the flowers. They’re lovely, and”—she turned to Ned and gave him a smile that she hoped looked secretive and seductive—“this town has made me feel most welcome.”

  Wendell grumbled something under his breath. “Well, I see you two are busy. Again, welcome to Misty Harbor, Ms. Stevens, and if I can be of service to you or your family, please don’t hesitate to call.” With a slight nod to Ned, Wendell turned and walked to his car.

  She stood there and continued smiling at Ned. A moment later, a car door slammed, and an engine started.

  “How long are you going to stand there smiling at me?” Ned’s gaze was following Wendell’s car down the street.

  “Is he out of sight yet?”

  “He is now.” Ned turned his attention back to her. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She frowned at the roses. “What’s with the men in this town? Either I have them yelling at me, or they give me flowers. Didn’t anyone ever hear of a nice happy medium, or is everyone bipolar?”

  “I haven’t yelled or given you flowers,” Ned said.

  “No, you just rescue me from the idiots who do.” She laughed at the absurdity of it all. She’d never had this problem back in Pennsylvania. Maybe it was the long cold winters that made the men in Maine nuts.

  “I didn’t think you needed rescuing either time. For being such a little bitty thing, you were holding your own.” Ned’s smile held approval. “I just don’t think it’s right that you are forced to hold your own on your own doorstep.”

  “Hey, Porter, it’s the twenty-first century. Women don’t like to be referred to as little bitty things.” The man was the size of Paul Bunyan. Every woman was little compared to him.

  “Point taken.” Ned chuckled and then hesitated for a moment before asking, “So would you like to go grab something to eat? Tony’s over in Sullivan has the best pizza in the county.”

  It had to be the most uninspired invitation to dinner she had ever received. So why was she so tempted to go? Ned was good looking, and he was her neighbor’s son and her appointed knight in shining armor. All of which were good reasons to take him up on his offer of pizza. But they weren’t the reasons she was going to accept. Wendell Kirby, and every other man, was.

  When Wendell had gotten that belligerent look on his face, she had realized she couldn’t keep living in fear. She had never used to be afraid of men. That fear was slowly poisoning her against life. She wanted her old life back. She needed to get back the trust her father had shattered, and to do that, she needed to spend time with men. Preferably big men. Men like the Porters. If she couldn’t trust Ned, who could she trust?

  “I have to warn you; I love pizza.” She gripped the cellophane wrapped around the roses with both hands so Ned wouldn’t notice their trembling. “We might have to go dutch.”

  Ned’s glance skimmed her from head to toe. Laughter was in his brown eyes, but he managed not to smirk. “I think I can afford to feed you, Rose Fairy.”

  Ned shook his head at Norah’s outstretched hand, paid the vender for the two cherry snow cones, and handed one to Norah. “I told you, my treat.”

  Norah put the money away, took a small bite of the ice treat, and smiled. “You got that same look on your face as you did in Tony’s when I finished my half of the pizza.”

  Ned plucked a couple of napkins out of the dispenser and then moved away from the vender’s cart. A family with four kids, all of them shouting what flavor they wanted to the poor man, were crowding around the cart.

  “I just have never seen someone so . . . ” He glanced at her tiny waist and remembered her warning against calling her little. “. . . beautiful eat four slices of pizza before.”

  Norah snorted and took another bite. “I warned you that I love good pizza, and Tony’s makes some of the best pizza I ever tasted.”

  Ned shook his head at her waist and her flowing skirt. What was with Norah and all the long, crinkly skirts and jewelry? Maybe she had gypsy blood running through those fairy veins. “I’ve seen you in jeans.”

  “What’s that got to do with pizza and snow cones?” Norah moved around a mother pushing a stroller with a screaming toddler in it.

  He cringed when the little girl hit a particularly high note. The town of Sullivan was pulling in a lot more tourists than Misty Harbor. Every shop on Ocean View Street was open, and they were attracting a lot of foot traffic. The arcade at the end of the docks with its fancy merry-go-round and assorted pinball machines and games was a surefire hit with all the kids. Even the fast food place at the edge of town was jam-packed.

  He preferred the peace and quiet of Misty Harbor.

  “I was just wondering where you pack it all.” He steadied Norah as she stumbled on an uneven plank on the wooden dock. “Careful, the wood is warped in places.”

  “I noticed.” Norah shook her head and sidestepped two teenagers holding hands and walking so close to each other that not an inch of the fading evening light could be seen between them.

  What he’d noticed was that Norah hadn’t flinched when he grabbed her elbow to steady her. He had to wonder if it was because it had happened so fast that she hadn’t had time to think about it, or was it because she knew him better and felt safer? He led her to an empty bench out of the main traffic flow to finish their dessert.


  “You don’t get out much, do you?” Norah tried to look innocent, but she failed miserably.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” He got out plenty.

  “I know this isn’t a real date or anything, but when you are out with a woman, you aren’t supposed to refer to her eating habits as packing it all away.”

  “Can’t blame a guy for commenting, Norah. You matched me slice for slice.” Ned chuckled at the memory of Norah biting into that first slice, rolling her eyes, and moaning in ecstasy. There was definitely something sensual about the way she ate pizza, not that he would tell her that. “I haven’t seen a woman eat that much since my sisters-in-law were pregnant. Barley’s Food Store had to have double shipments in for months, and Paul had to take on a part-time job when Jill carried Hunter.”

  Norah’s laugh could have been declared as the eighth wonder of the world. “You’re making that up. I’ve seen both your sisters-in-law, and neither one of them could be classed as fat.”

  “I didn’t say they were fat.” If Kay and Jill ever teamed up against him, they could wipe the floor with his sorry butt. He didn’t want to think about what his brothers would do to him for even insinuating a thing such as their wives being an ounce overweight. Both of his brothers thought that their wives were the best thing to happen since the cordless drill. “And I definitely didn’t say that you were either. In fact, I implied the opposite was true.”

  “You did? When?”

  “When I said I’ve seen you in jeans.” Ned chuckled at the look of disbelief on her face. “Under those enormous skirts you wear, a guy would have a hard time figuring out whether you have a hollow leg, thunder thighs, or elephant calves. In tight-fitting jeans all the mysteries are clearly revealed.”

  “It was dark in your parents’ backyard that night.” Norah seemed extremely interested in the boats in the harbor.

  “I’ve got excellent night vision.”

  “So what mysteries were revealed?”

  “Ah, if I didn’t know better, Ms. Stevens, I would think you were fishing for a compliment.” He spread his feet out before him and leaned back on the bench, enjoying himself immensely. The evening was turning out a lot better than he would have thought. There was no way he was telling Norah what her jeans had done to his imagination. His once dormant imagination had kicked into overdrive with visions of nicely packed denim dancing through his dreams. He didn’t need a psychologist to tell him what that dream meant.

  “Dream on, Porter.” Norah snorted, spread her feet out in front of her, leaned back on the bench.

  Oh, I intend to. He looked at her small, delicate feet and wondered if they were cold. The yellow sandals Norah had on offered no protection against the chill of a Maine evening, but they matched her sweater and the huge sunflowers on her skirt perfectly. The silver ankle bracelet and peach toenail polish looked sexy. It was the three silver toe rings that threw him. “Aren’t they uncomfortable?” He had never seen a woman wear rings on her toes outside of a magazine picture before.

  “Aren’t what uncomfortable?” Norah’s gaze followed his, and she wiggled her toes. “The sandals?”

  “No, the rings on your toes. Don’t they bother you when you walk?”

  “You get used to them. It’s not like getting your belly button pierced. I can take them off anytime I like.”

  “You don’t, do you?” He remembered the enticing inch of skin showing between her tank top and the waistband of her jeans that night. But he couldn’t remember if there had been a gleam of metal connected to her navel.

  “Ah, not all my mysteries were revealed. We won’t get into the tattoos.” Norah chuckled and went back to eating her snow cone.

  He thought about it for a moment. “You don’t have any tattoos. As for the pierced belly button, I’m not too sure about that one. Any woman who has eight earrings in one ear and five in the other isn’t too opposed to punching holes in her body.” The difference in the number of earrings had driven him crazy all through dinner, but he wasn’t about to ask. The less he knew about Norah, the better he might sleep.

  They were complete opposites with nothing in common, as their conversation during dinner had proven. His idea of fun was roughing it in the wilderness and sleeping under the stars. Norah’s idea of roughing it consisted of hotels without room service and cars with broken air conditioners. She would never last an hour, let alone an entire weekend, in his beloved mountains.

  “Why are you so positive about me not having any tattoos?” She stood up and tossed her empty paper cone into a nearby trash can.

  He chucked his nearly empty cup and prayed that the cherry juice hadn’t made his lips as red as Norah’s. They started walking back to where he had parked his truck. “You don’t have any on your ankles, arms, neck, or shoulder blades.”

  “Observant fellow, aren’t you?” She laughed at a group of seagulls dive-bombing a bunch of rocks near the dock. A little boy and his father were tossing French fries to the birds. “What makes you think I don’t have one or two somewhere in a lot less public spot?”

  Now there was a thought that would haunt his dreams tonight. “Piercings and tattoos are for show. What’s the sense in getting them if no one sees them?”

  Norah’s look told him exactly what she thought of that stupid comment.

  He decided not to pursue the subject of Norah’s private body parts. He needed his sleep.

  Twenty minutes later, they pulled up in front of her house. His parents’ house was dark, which was normal for them since they got up so early. Norah’s house had a couple of lights lit inside, and the lights on either side of the front door were turned on. “Your mom must be home.”

  Norah glanced at the dashboard clock. “I can’t believe it’s after nine.”

  Friday night, and he was dropping off the girl before nine-thirty. He felt like he was sixteen instead of twenty-seven. “Come on. I’ll walk you up to the door.”

  “You don’t have to, Ned. I’m a big girl, and the door’s right there.” Norah opened the truck door and hopped down before he could help her.

  Ned hurried around the side of the truck. “You don’t understand. If my parents are peeking out their bedroom window and they don’t see me walk you to your door and make sure you’re safely inside before I leave, there will be hell to pay in the morning.”

  “Scare you, do they?” Norah teased as she walked up the path.

  “Only my mom.” He stopped at the doorstep and allowed Norah to dig through her purse for her keys. “She’s got a mean right hook.”

  Norah chuckled. “Thank you for dinner and dessert. I really enjoyed myself tonight.” Norah seemed to be taking an awfully long time to retrieve her keys.

  He leaned in closer. His intent was to take her keys and unlock the door. Norah’s flinch stopped him cold. So much for her being used to him. She either was still afraid of him, or she thought he was going to kiss her goodnight.

  He slowly raised his hand and gently ran the tip of his finger down her cheek and across the corner of her mouth. Her cherry-stained lips trembled for a moment beneath his touch. “Good night, Rose Fairy.” He turned and walked back to his truck before he did something incredibly stupid.

  Chapter Six

  Joanna glanced around the gallery with the same sense of pride she had once held for her home alone. The two weeks she had worked for Ethan had not only been a learning experience, but they had also been rewarding. Working the cash register was easy, and dusting and displaying the merchandise to its advantage was second nature to her. Karen had taught her how to check in the pottery pieces Ethan ordered and how to keep track of inventory so that she could tell what they had in the back room in case a customer needed a certain piece. Ethan trusted her to handle the gallery on her own for short periods of time, and Karen was getting some much needed time with her family.

  The aspect of the business that she found so amazing was that Ethan spent a lot of his time in the back room poring over Christmas merchandise and
order forms. Here it was the last week of June, and Ethan wanted her opinion on crystal ornaments, hand-crafted elves that were selling for more than a thirty-two-inch flat screen television, and green and red hand-blown glass vases. Ethan was undecided on how many Christmas trees he would be putting up this year, let alone what color palette he would be aiming for. Ethan had other things on his mind besides the gallery. Namely, his very pregnant wife, Olivia.

  Joanna had met Olivia quite a few times. Each and every encounter brought a new dimension to Olivia’s growing stomach. Ethan feared his poor wife would either explode or fall forward and then never be able to make it back up onto her own feet before she delivered their child. Considering Olivia’s size, she had to agree with Ethan, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. Her boss had developed a few gray hairs over the past couple of weeks. She honestly didn’t know how Ethan was going to make it through the next six weeks, let alone what he would do if the little one decided to arrive late.

  It made her heart feel good to see two people so obviously in love and to observe the joy they were experiencing starting their family. It was what she wanted for her daughter, Norah. A man who loved her as much as Ethan loved his wife. She wasn’t pushing for grandchildren, even though one day, she would love to become a grandmom. If and when they would have children would be Norah’s and her husband’s decision. She just wanted her daughter to find happiness. To find love.

  Nothing had thrilled her more than when she had gotten home the other night and found Norah’s note saying she had gone out with Ned Porter. Norah hadn’t said much about the date, besides saying she’d had a good time. As far as she knew, Ned hadn’t called Norah, and her daughter didn’t seem to be hanging around the phone waiting for it to ring. It was a real shame their date hadn’t turned out better.