Loving the Storm

by Linda Seed

He stood there awkwardly, trying to think of ways to avoid leaving now that he’d stated the status of the skylight repair. Talking about the spork yurt seemed like a sure bet.

  “Is your … uh … project coming along okay?”

  “Not bad.” She had a drinking straw in one hand and what looked like a used condom—but surely it had to be something else—in the other. “It’s a slow process, though. I’ll need about twenty of these supports before I can assemble the frame.”

  “Is that a used condom?”

  She raised one eyebrow. “It is.”

  He grimaced.

  “I washed it first. With bleach. While wearing rubber gloves.”

  “Well, that’s something, I guess.”

  He didn’t particularly want to talk about the condom, but he didn’t want to leave, either. He wanted to be here with her, if only for a few minutes.

  It wasn’t just about how she looked. He’d been around sexy women before, on many happy occasions, but they didn’t usually affect him like this one did. Usually when he saw a hot female, he was mainly interested in looking at her, with the future goal of maybe, with her consent, touching her. But this felt different. He just wanted to be in her presence for a little while because he had the sense that it would make him feel better.

  He wasn’t much good at small talk—it wasn’t a skill he’d managed to master in his thirty-three years of life—but he gave it a try.

  “So, where are you from?” The question sounded lame, even to himself, like the kind of thing the shopkeepers on Main Street asked the tourists.

  “Portland,” she said. “The one in Oregon, not the one in Maine.”

  He nodded. “You got family there?”

  It was an innocent question—anyone would say so—and yet something in her face changed. Her eyes went fractionally harder, her mouth just a hint firmer. “Just me,” she said after a while.

  “So, where do they live?” He had a sense that he was touching some kind of nerve, but he couldn’t seem to help poking at it to see what happened.

  “When do you think you’ll come back to finish the skylight?” she asked. She kept her voice light.

  Liam wasn’t the most sensitive guy, or the most intuitive one, but he could tell when his question was getting the brush-off. He considered pursuing it to see where it would go, but instead, he let her change the subject.

  “Well.” He scratched the stubble on his chin. “I can get out to the hardware store this afternoon to get the tiles, then come back out here tomorrow to do the job.”

  He knew he should get the job out of the way today so he could get back to his real work on the ranch. But the more he dragged out the roof thing, the more he could look forward to seeing Aria. He figured he could make a one-day job into a two-day job, or even a three-day job, without much maneuvering.

  But, since it felt like he’d pissed her off with the questions about her family, he wondered whether he should even bother with the maneuvering.

  “I guess I should get going.” He picked up his ladder and his toolbox and stood awkwardly in the doorway.

  He was just about to turn around and go, when she said, “Liam?”

  He waited.

  “Where do people go around here for nightlife?”

  “Nightlife?”

  “Yeah.” She cocked her head at him. “I know Cambria’s a quiet town, but people must go somewhere in the evenings.”

  “Well, there’s Ted’s,” he said.

  Ted’s was a dive bar just off Main Street that he and his brothers frequented when they wanted to blow off steam. It wasn’t much—it was poorly maintained and it smelled bad—but they had darts and pool, and beer by the pitcher.

  If they’d been talking about a nice restaurant or a swanky wine bar, Liam would have hesitated to ask her to go with him, because that would be a date, and he didn’t think he was ready to date anyone. But this was Ted’s, and taking a woman to Ted’s couldn’t possibly be interpreted as a date. It didn’t say, I want a relationship with you. Instead, it said, I might try to get in your pants later, but if not, at least there’s beer.

  It was perfect.

  “Ted’s?” Aria asked, her eyebrows raised in question.

  “A bar. It’s pretty crappy, but all the locals end up there at one time or another.” He put his hands into his jeans pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I’ll probably be heading out there tonight, if you want to go.”

  “Is that right?”

  The sexiness of her smile scared him so much that he panicked.

  “Uh … yeah. Me and Ryan. My brother. And his wife. You know Gen.” He had absolutely no plans to go to Ted’s with Ryan and Gen, but he needed to communicate that this was not a date, and nothing said not a date like bringing your brother.

  “That would be fun.”

  “Well, all right. Pick you up about eight?”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  She looked at him just a beat too long, and he felt the look in the center of his chest—and somewhere farther down.

  Something told him he was in dangerous territory—that Aria Howard was going to be more than he knew how to handle, and much more than he was prepared for. But it was just Ted’s, and besides, he was going to talk Ryan and Gen into going with him.

  How much trouble could he possibly get into?

  “I think we’re just gonna stay in tonight.”

  Ryan was brushing down his horse, a big chestnut gelding, in the stables as the early evening sun streamed through the windows. Dust motes drifted through the wide beams of light, and the place smelled like leather, horse sweat, and manure.

  “What the hell do you want to do that for? You want to waste a perfectly good Wednesday night when you could be over at Ted’s having a good time?” Liam leaned against the side of the stall, scowling at Ryan.

  “You know, as delightful as Ted’s is, what with the spilled beer on the floor and the broken jukebox, I believe I’ll make the sacrifice.” He gave Liam that smartass smile he used when he thought he was being funny.

  “Just because you’ve got a baby coming, you think you’ve got to act like an old man,” Liam complained. “Maybe Gen wants to go. Have you thought of that?”

  “Then the two of you can go while I stay home and relax.” Ryan flexed his shoulder. “Maybe I am getting to be an old man. Seems like I never used to feel this sore at the end of the day.”

  Liam wasn’t about to let Ryan distract him from his mission with talk of things like soreness and age. “Look, just come for an hour. A half hour. One drink.”

  Ryan paused with the curry comb in his hand. “What’s this about? Why are you suddenly so dead set on me going to Ted’s? You got something you’re not telling me?”

  Ryan had that big brother thing going on where he could catch Liam in a lie like he was wearing a sign around his neck that said I’M BULLSHITTING YOU. So, Liam went with the truth.

  “I need you to come because of Aria.”

  “The artist.”

  “Yeah.” Liam straightened up from where he was leaning and pushed a hand through his hair. “I asked her to come to Ted’s, but I told her you and Gen were coming, too, so it would seem … you know. Casual.”

  Ryan raised his eyebrows. “Because a bar where your feet stick to the floor isn’t casual enough by itself?” He let out a low chuckle. “I need to teach you a few things about women. Like if you’re going to ask one on a date, you don’t choose Ted’s.”

  “One, it’s not a date. That’s the whole point. That’s why you have to come—to show that it’s not a damned date. And two, the day you’ve got anything to teach me about women is the day I sprout a goddamned third arm.”

  Ryan continued combing the horse, unperturbed. “I got Gen, didn’t I?”

  Liam kicked at a clump of hay on the floor. “Yeah, well, I still think she’s gonna regain her sanity one day and kick you out on your ass.”

  “By the time that happens, it’ll be too late,” Ryan said. “I’v
e already knocked her up.”

  Liam shoved his hands into his pockets and scowled. “Look, just come. And bring Gen. I said you would, and if you don’t, it’s going to look like I lied to her.”

  “Which you did.”

  “Goddamn it. Would it kill you to just help me out? I’ll buy the beer.”

  Ryan finished with the horse and came out of the stall, latching the door behind him. He walked across the room to put the comb away, then came back to stand in front of his brother.

  “I’ll ask Gen. And, listen: I think it’s great that you’re getting out there again. It’s time.”

  “Ah, bite me,” Liam said, embarrassed.

  “But this it’s not a date thing is silly. If you like her, just ask her on a real date. Like an adult.” Ryan went on as though Liam hadn’t spoken.

  “Yeah, yeah. Are you coming or not?”

  Ryan gave Liam a friendly smack on the shoulder. “I’ll talk to the missus. Far be it from me to stand between you and a woman. Maybe if you get laid, you’ll be in a better mood.”

  Privately, Liam thought the same thing. But he wasn’t about to say so.

  Chapter Six

  Liam’s assessment of Ted’s wasn’t wrong.

  As Aria got settled at a table in the middle of the room with Liam, Ryan, and Gen, it occurred to her that she wouldn’t consider hanging out at a place like this in any other town. In LA or New York or San Francisco, the atmosphere would have said trouble—possibly of the type that included police and the occasional gunfire. But here in Cambria, where crime was such a rarity that people barely even noticed there was no police force, the place seemed comfortable. Harmless. Even charming.

  Everything seemed to be sticky—the floor, the tabletop, the chair. Eighties rock played over the speaker system, punctuated by the occasional shouts of a group of guys who were engaged in a game of pool, and a few more who were playing darts.

  It wasn’t much, Gen explained as they all got settled in at their seats, but at least it provided a break from the constant tourist traffic of Main Street.

  Liam ordered a pitcher of beer and three mugs, and an iced tea for Gen. Ted, the bar’s owner, brought it over with a couple of bowls of peanuts and pretzels that had likely been pawed over by other people’s hands.

  “Liam. Ryan. Gen.” Ted, a middle-aged man with a sizable belly that hung over the apron tied around his waist, greeted the Delaneys with a nod. Then he waggled his eyebrows at Aria. “And who do we have here?”

  “Ted, this is Aria Howard,” Ryan said. “Aria, this is Ted.”

  “Nice place,” Aria said.

  “Ah, bullshit.” Ted cackled. “Enjoy your beer.”

  When he was gone, Liam poured a beer and placed it in front of her. Then he poured for himself and Ryan and leaned back in his battered wooden chair with his long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He looked completely at ease, as though he’d poured himself into the chair in exactly the same way a thousand times before.

  All at once, Aria got the sense of a careless grace she hadn’t noticed before. It made her wonder how that grace might show itself under more private circumstances.

  “So, your skylight all fixed up?” Ryan asked Aria as he hefted his mug.

  “Not yet,” she told him. “Liam says another couple of days.”

  Ryan, looking amused, raised his eyebrows at his brother. “A couple of days? To fix a little leak?”

  “Ah, shut up,” Liam said, without heat. “I’m getting it done. I’ve been busy. I’m a busy guy.”

  “You’re not busy fixing the skylight, apparently,” Ryan said.

  The exchange felt like the kind of brotherly bickering that had to be utterly routine in a large family. Both of them seemed at ease with it, as though it were a simple and immutable part of their world.

  Looking at the two of them—Liam with his rugged, manly magnetism and Ryan with a kind of dark-eyed deliciousness, Aria had to wonder about the other brother, the one who lived in Montana. If he was even half as attractive as these two, it seemed almost criminal that one family should be so genetically blessed.

  “I told you I could do it if you didn’t have time,” Ryan went on, still talking about the skylight. “It’s not that big a deal, I—”

  “I said I’d do it,” Liam snapped at him.

  “I can wait,” Aria put in. “It’s not even raining anymore.”

  “Oh, it’s not about the skylight,” Gen said, sipping her iced tea. “It’s about competition and sibling rivalry. And penis size, probably.” She grinned, enjoying herself.

  “Nah, it’s not about that,” Ryan said, smirking and giving Gen’s forearm a squeeze. “He lost that competition when I hit puberty back in seventh grade.”

  “I’m only letting that go because you’ve got your woman here with you,” Liam remarked. “It’s better for your marriage if she doesn’t know the truth.”

  “Are they always like this?” Aria asked Gen.

  “Yes,” Gen said. She got up from her seat, picked up her glass of tea, and gestured toward the pool tables, which had just been vacated. “Come on. Let’s leave these two twelve-year-olds to it. I want to play pool.”

  Watching Gen play pool was unexpectedly amusing, mostly because her baby bump kept getting in the way every time she bent over to take a shot. If the cue ball was close to the edge of the table, she could get to it without much trouble. But when it was situated closer to the middle, her belly pressed awkwardly against the railing. It gave Aria an advantage, and she found herself wishing they’d played for money.

  “So. That kind of … irritable thing Liam’s got going on. Is that real, or part of the bad-boy act?” Aria asked as she stood near the wall, cue in hand, waiting for her turn.

  Gen took a shot, missed, and then straightened to consider the question. “It’s both, I think. He’s always been kind of prickly. But it’s gotten worse over the past few years.”

  “Why do you think that is?” Aria said it as though it were just idle conversation. But it was more than that, and they both knew it.

  “Well … his girlfriend cheated on him. Then his uncle died. Then another girlfriend—a serious one—fell in love with his cousin. And then there was the accident.”

  Aria lined up her shot—nine ball in the side pocket—then leaned over the table. She glanced at Gen from where she stood poised to shoot. “Ouch. That’s a lot.”

  “It is,” Gen agreed. “He’s taken it all pretty well, considering. But he hasn’t been himself.”

  Aria made the shot, then walked around the table to line up the next one.

  “Look,” Gen said. “Liam’s a good person. A genuinely good person. He’d give his life for any of us in the family. In a heartbeat. He wouldn’t even think about it.” She said it with such conviction in her voice, such emotion, that Aria didn’t doubt it was true. “So, if you’re thinking of going there …”

  Aria waited for Gen to go on.

  “It’s just, if you start something with him and it doesn’t work out, he’s going to get hurt again. And if that happens …” She shook her head. “Well. It would just be a shame.”

  “I’m not really thinking of ‘going there’,” Aria said. “But I was kind of wondering about something light. You know, just … something fun.”

  Gen shrugged one shoulder, looking uneasy. “Well … just make sure both of you are having fun, that’s all.”

  Aria was still thinking about Gen’s warning when Liam came over and asked if she wanted to throw a round of darts. She was on her second mug of beer by then and was starting to feel pleasantly loose and relaxed.

  She shot first, and was so disconcerted by the proximity of Liam’s testosterone-fueled sexiness that she didn’t get the darts anywhere near the bull’s-eye.

  “Huh. I think I can beat that,” he said, gathering up the darts and going to stand behind the line of red tape on the floor.

  “You think so?” Aria said. If she’d flubbed her turn becaus
e she was distracted by him, then that suggested a possible strategy she might use to her advantage. As Liam aimed to take his first shot, Aria made a production of bending over to tie her shoe, a posture that gave Liam a prime view of lush and abundant cleavage in the V-neck of her T-shirt.

  Liam threw, and the dart missed the board entirely, landing with a thunk in the wood paneling six inches to the right.

  Aria straightened and looked at the dart, a theatrical display of puzzlement on her features. “Oh. You must be out of practice.”

  He gave her a wry half smile. “You did that on purpose.”

  “Did what?” She widened her eyes in innocence.

  “You know exactly what.” He was grinning. The grin, the way his T-shirt hugged his body, the tattoo that was peeking out from beneath his sleeve, and the way his eyes crinkled a little at the edges when he smiled—it all combined to make her feel alarmingly melty inside.

  “Well. It looks like it was a winning strategy.” She nodded pointedly at the dart, so far away from the board that it looked like a castaway in a lonely sea.

  “Not exactly safe for the bystanders, though.”

  Aria wasn’t usually bold with men. She found that such things generally led to trouble. But Liam was so appealing, and her body buzzed with such happy excitement when she was around him, that she told herself it would be okay, just this once. What harm was there in having a good time with an appealing man? Why shouldn’t she give that to herself?

  Having worked herself up to it, she took two long, slow steps toward him. She put her mouth near his ear and said softly, “Maybe we should take it somewhere else, then. Somewhere a little quieter. For the sake of the bystanders.”

  “I … uh …” He let out a shaky laugh. “I can’t leave Gen and Ryan without a ride home. Let’s go on back to the table, huh?” He turned, with the darts still in his hand, and headed back to where Ryan and Gen were sitting. Then he realized with a start that he was still holding the darts, hurried back to the area where the board was, put them down on a table, and went to sit next to Ryan, his limp a little more prominent than it had been just a few minutes ago.

  Aria stood there and watched him go, her female ego stinging. Either she’d misread his attraction to her—which she hadn’t—or Liam was seriously awkward with women.