Kiss a Girl in the Rain

by Nancy Warren

  “Does today count?”

  He shook his head. “Today’s Saturday.” Evan didn’t bother to point out that since he was open for business on Saturday, he’d kind of hoped he might expedite the process. Instead he said, “So, we’re talking Wednesday?”

  “Yeah. Wednesday or Thursday.”

  Merv’s teenaged son, Bill, who was his assistant and gas jockey, drove Evan in a pickup truck back to collect the bike. In the bright light of day it looked dusty. A spider had made a web on it.

  There was no point feeling frustrated, he reminded himself as he and the slow moving Bill hauled the bike up a wooden ramp and it into the truck bed. It wasn’t like he had to be anywhere. Besides, a few days in town should give him time to return his canine shadow to its rightful owners. And part of his journey was learning how to slow down.

  So, he collected his belongings and followed Merv’s directions to the town’s only motel. Remembering Caitlyn Sorenson telling him that the owners were old, he decided to get there nice and early while the motel owners were at their freshest. And hopefully kindest.

  It was getting on for noon when he walked up the drive. The Mill Pond Motel was a two level building with doors that opened onto outdoor balconies. There were probably two dozen rooms. Based on the cars in the lot, maybe a quarter of the rooms were rented. He brushed off his jacket and pasted on his most winning smile when he walked in. He had to ring the silver bell on the counter twice before an old woman came out from the back. She had short white hair and was wearing a sweatshirt with a photo transfer of three children, presumably her grandchildren. She looked at him with suspicion. “Help you?”

  “Yes. I need a room until Wednesday or Thursday.”

  She stared at him for an unnerving minute and he thought for a second she might refuse. Then she pulled out a card and said, “Room’s $89 a night with a queen sized bed. Continental breakfast served every morning between 6 and 9.” Then her gaze was drawn to the glass entrance door where the dog was pressing its nose against the glass and whining. “That your dog?”

  Evan sighed. “Not exactly.”

  It took negotiations as tricky as his toughest law cases in Seattle but finally, after she’d called out her husband, they agreed to let the dog stay in his room for the duration of his stay. This cost an extra hundred bucks.

  The room was clean, the bed comfortable, and they were on the ground floor. The bathroom wasn’t huge, but the shower had a good, steady flow and he took the time to shave and put on clean clothes. He bundled up his dirty laundry and set out to find a Laundromat.

  Miller’s Pond was not the kind of place he’d choose to linger in. It was a fine, solid middle America town, the kind where people knew their neighbors, crime was low and the economy neither boom nor bust. A good place to raise a family. But he wasn’t interested in any of those things.

  Miller’s Pond didn’t boast a famous battle field, no illustrious historical figure had hailed from here. Miller’s Pond had offered the world no sports heroes or military heroes, no famous writers, cartoonists, inventors, musicians or movie stars. It didn’t even boast a curiosity, such as the largest button collection in the world or some such thing. Miller’s Pond did not seem to hold with such foolishness. It was the sort of town a man on a quest drove straight past without stopping.

  He’d barely begun his trip and he was itching to get back on the road. He rubbed his sore wrist. At least he was getting a chance to rest his body.

  As he walked down Miller’s Pond’s Main Street he noted a grocery store, a pharmacy, a couple of clothing stores, a dollar store, a gift shop, an independent coffee shop that he snapped a photo of to send to Iris. There was a realtor, a restaurant proclaiming Chinese/American food and a financial planning and insurance office. Two thrift stores caught his eye. A couple of banks had small branches on the main strip. He noted a few boarded up stores that he assumed were victims of the recession.

  He found the Laundromat and chose the paid service where the owner would wash and fold his clothes for him. She was a nice, chatty woman who would have done the visitor’s center out of a job, if Miller’s Pond had a visitor center. While he was waiting, he snapped several photos of the dog with his smart phone. Not one of them made the mutt look cute. He followed the directions the woman at the Laundromat gave him to a mom and pop stationary store that boasted a business center.

  Choosing the least ugly photo of the dog, he created a quick Is This Your Dog? poster and had thirty copies printed. Reluctantly, the stationary store owners let him tape his first poster in their window. He guessed they were worried that ugly little face staring out would hurt their business.

  He tacked his poster up around town as he took a walk, hoping someone would yell out, in a thankful tone, “Bowser! There you are, boy!” and he could reduce his worries to getting his bike fixed.

  But no such person hailed him. He found a pet shop, however, and bought a collar and leash, a dog bowl and some dog food. “Don’t suppose you’ve ever seen this dog before?” he asked the boy ringing up his purchases who had the look of a high school kid who only worked Saturdays. “Naah,” he said, looking down at the dog. Then he handed Evan his change. The bills had a strong scent of fish, probably because the kid had been cleaning out the fish tanks when Evan had rung the bell beside the cash register. He hadn’t bothered to wash up before ringing up the purchases.

  Evan tacked one of his Is this Your Dog? posters on a community bulletin board inside the pet store where people offered to board horses, walk dogs and deliver organic cat food. Then he put the new blue collar around the dog and attached the matching leash.

  Homely seemed to think this was part of a grand new game that involved dashing away and then coming close, then dashing away again.

  Finally, he had the leash and collar attached and as they were leaving, Caitlyn Sorenson was about to enter. He held the door wide for her feeling that Miller’s Pond at least held one outstanding attraction. “Good morning, Doctor.”

  She blinked at him, her eyes even prettier then he remembered. Her hair was pulled back and she was wearing a skirt that showed off great legs. “You’re still here.”

  She scratched the dog’s head while the crazy mutt acted as though seeing her was the Best Thing That Had Ever Happened to Him.

  “I had some bike trouble. I’ll be here a few days.” He didn't move, too busy wondering what this amazing woman was doing in this town that seemed to pride itself on average.

  “I need cat food,” she said. They both hovered there and he felt the pull of attraction. It had been way too long since he’d felt this warm sizzle of what? Possibilities, he supposed. On impulse, he said, “My local sources tell me that the Country Grill serves the best food in town.”

  Her eyes twinkled in amusement. “You have local sources?”

  “Yes, ma’am. The nice lady at the Laundromat is pretty much a one woman visitor’s center.”

  “Well, she was right.”

  “Could I interest you in having dinner there with me tonight?”

  “Oh.” She hesitated. Glanced down at the dog, which in body language terms suggested the word No was coming. “I don’t really date any—”

  “It’s not a date,” he said quickly, before she could ramble into the excuse she was clearly trying to form. “It’s a thank you for patching me and my friend up last night.” He paused until she looked up and their gazes reconnected. Kept his face serious. “I don’t like being beholden. You don’t want to create trouble for your book keeper, which I respect, but I’d like to buy you dinner in return for your medical services, which keeps me from feeling like a charity case.”

  She leaned back against the still-open door. “Nothing about you makes me think of a charity case,” she said.

  Oh, that was an opening he could not resist. “What do I make you think of?” he asked.

  The question hovered in the air. Teasing. A little flirtatious.

  Hot, reckless sex, Caitlyn thought, that’s what h
e made her think of. She watched his eyes change, darken and smolder and for an awful moment she wondered if she’d said those words aloud. But no, she was pretty sure they’d stayed inside her head. Maybe he’d read her mind. She hoped he was getting the picture feed as well because it was quite a show going on in there.

  Even though her touch had been purely professional last night, she hadn’t forgotten the warm muscular feel of his chest when she’d listened to his heart. Or the muscles in his neck when he turned his head for her. He had an aura of strength and command that appealed to her, as well as a certain reckless quality that sparked her interest.

  That was the reason she was trying to get out of dinner. She didn’t need a reckless, hot, sexy stranger complicating her life. Not now that she’d finally found calm.

  But then, perhaps some hot, sweaty sex was exactly what she needed. And it wasn’t like he was going to complicate her life. As soon as his bike was fixed, he’d be back on the road.

  She caught his gaze. She bit her lip. “Would there be dessert involved?”

  She hadn’t meant to sound so breathless, to make a dinner non-date sound like a sexual dare, but the second the words were out that’s exactly what they sounded like.

  “I believe the evening could stretch to dessert,” he said, still as serious as a judge. He put a slight emphasis on the word could and she liked him for it, letting her know that he had no expectations.

  She wasn't entirely sure what made her change her mind. Maybe she simply needed a night out. “I’ll meet you there at seven,” she said.

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

  As she finally stepped past him into the pet store, she realized that she was nervous. In that giggly, girlish way of a woman about to spend time with a man who interests her on the most primal level.

  Chapter Six

  Caitlyn’s cell phone rang as she was changing her bed sheets. And what exactly did she think she was doing? Changing her sheets before her date tonight?

  She checked call display and picked up. “Charlotte! Hi. I was going to call you.”

  “Was it to complain about my book club pick? Honestly, I couldn’t be any sorrier. I had to slog through one thousand pages of depressing, too. I felt like killing myself to end the misery.”

  “Don’t forget, you’re reading for two.”

  “To cheer us up I thought I’d cook. Have a few people for dinner tonight. Maybe play poker after.”

  “I can’t. I have a date.”

  “Get out of town. Did Barker finally wear you down?”

  “No. Though Barker did set us up in a weird way.”

  “Huh?”

  So then she had to explain about Barker telling Evan that she was a vet, and the clinic visit, and all the way up to the dinner invitation.

  “Let me get this straight. You rejected hottie McHottums chief of police in favor of a scruffy drifter?”

  She thought about it. “Yep. Pretty much.”

  “What do you know about this guy? He shows up on a motorcycle? He could be a Hell’s Angel trying to start a drug cartel in Miller’s Pond.”

  “Wasn’t wearing the patch. Besides, this guy’s a lone wolf.”

  “And you’re having dinner with the wolf?”

  “Yep. At the Country Grill at seven.”

  “That is so weird. Doug and I are having dinner there too. For our anniversary.”

  “I thought you were having people over for dinner tonight?”

  “That’s the great thing about being pregnant. My moods change faster than the weather.”

  “Your anniversary is next week.” She rolled her eyes as she smoothed her favorite Egyptian cotton sheets onto the mattress.

  “We’re celebrating this week. In case the baby comes early.”

  “You’re a nosy, overprotective, b—”

  “Best friend.”

  “I wish you hadn’t called.”

  “Oh, please let me come. I don’t get any excitement any more. TV’s all reruns. All I do is troll the Internet for things that could go wrong during pregnancy and childbirth. You would not believe the things that can go wrong.” Then, obviously remembering that Caitlyn was doctor as well as friend, said, “Well, I guess you can, but it’s scary out there.”

  “What did I tell you about the internet?” Caitlyn said in a mock serious tone. “You are having a perfectly healthy pregnancy. Your biggest problem is internet addiction.”

  “If I went out for dinner tonight, it would give me a healthy distraction.”

  It didn’t really matter. As the only doctor in town she’d pretty much know everybody in the Country Grill anyway. “Okay, you can come. But don’t embarrass me.”

  “Promise. So, why are you going out with biker dude?”

  “I think you’ll understand when you see him.”

  “He can’t be better looking than Barker.”

  She sat on the end of the bed for a moment and tried to explain. “No. He’s not better looking. It’s more, you know how Barker always rides around in that police cruiser even when he’s not on duty?”

  “Yeah, like if a crime happened he’d be ready, 24/7.”

  “Exactly. I bet he takes his pager to bed with him. Evan, well if the cruiser’s Barker’s ideal vehicle, maybe the motorcycle is Evan’s. It’s cool and kind of badass and gets associated with drifters and guys on the run. He couldn’t be more different than Barker.”

  “The chief’s got a fun side. Look at the prank he played on you and Evan.”

  “The joke’s on him. He never would have sent a strange guy to my house if he’d thought I would open the door. I only did open it when I realized the dog was hurt.”

  “And the drifter was hot but he is, you know, a drifter. Barker lives here. He’s crazy about you.”

  Maybe that was one reason why she’d decided to accept Evan’s date. To quell the idea that she and Barker were going to get together. She wanted the idea quelled in everyone’s mind, but most especially, in Barker’s. “I like him, I do. But I can’t see us together.”

  “Everybody in town wants you guys to get together.”

  Like that was news. “If we got married nobody would worry about losing the police chief or the town doctor.”

  “Well accept it as a compliment. You’re right. Nobody wants to lose you.” Then her friend said, “What are you wearing for your date with Easy Rider?”

  When she arrived at the restaurant, at a couple of minutes before seven, because she was never late, not even to be fashionable, Evan was already there, standing outside waiting for her. She’d assumed he wouldn’t have anything but jeans in his motorcycle luggage and she’d been right. But these were nice jeans, well-fitted. Hugo Boss, she thought. He wore the leather jacket, but under it was a black cashmere sweater. He’d shaved, found his way to the barber for a trim and generally spruced up from hot rugged drifter to hot well-groomed drifter.

  She’d dithered for an hour trying to figure out what to wear. She didn’t want to appear in a designer dress if he showed up in jeans and a hoodie, but she also didn’t want to dress down so far that he felt insulted.

  Finally, she chose a silky shirt in her favorite blue, a black skirt and heels. Sure, they were Manolo Blahniks but she doubted anyone in town would know that.

  Shoes like that should be worn, not hidden in a closet. If she owned a Picasso she’d hang it on her wall, not hide it away in the basement. She felt that way about good shoes, like they were wearable art.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, not loading on a compliment, but as someone stating a fact.

  “Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

  He opened the door. “Shall we?”

  Even though this was her town and she was the regular, he stepped ahead of her and up to the hostess station. Candy Kress was on duty and she looked unimpressed. Candy was the daughter of the owners and would do anything to get out of working at the Grill, as Caitlyn knew since both mother and daughter were her patients and both spent m
ost of their time in her office complaining about the other.

  “I made a reservation for seven,” he said. “Name’s Chance.”

  Candy flicked a mildly interested glance up and down the new guy in town. Then behind him to where she stood.

  When her permanently bored expression changed to a quick look of shock, Caitlyn smiled. “Hi Candy.”

  “Hi Doc.” She picked up two menus, led them to one of the best tables in the house, by the window, and slapped the menus on the table.

  Special treatment for her doctor only went so far.

  In less than a minute, Candy’s mother, Louise rushed up, no doubt after Candy ran to her with the news that Doc had a date. “Hi, Doc. Good to see you here again.” Then she turned to Evan and did a double take. She didn’t actually say, “Hello, gorgeous,” but it hung in the air like a conversation bubble. “Can I get you something to drink? Martinis are our specialty.”

  He raised his eyebrows to her. The last martini she’d drunk had been in midtown Manhattan. What was it about this man that kept bringing her back to those days? Of course, there’d been a lot to like about those days. ”Oh, why not.”

  “We’re causing quite a stir,” he said as they waited for their drinks to arrive.

  “You noticed?” She had, of course, because she lived here and knew that normally she could show up for dinner and all the other diners would concentrate on their food, their conversations, Facebook apps on their phones, the menus, the music playing softly in the background. But not tonight.

  Tonight, she felt the buzz of interest as people stared, gossiped and generally made her miss New York more than she had in a very long time. Imagine showing up at a restaurant and having no one know or care who you were, whom you were with or what was going on between you. She had a feeling one martini wasn’t going to be nearly enough.

  “I imagine this is how celebrities feel when they go out to a public place.”

  “Give them a minute, they’ll calm down.”

  He leaned forward. “That’s the police chief over at the bar. Between me and the exit. And I’d say he’s armed.”

  “He’s not even in uniform,” she said, trying not to laugh.

  “Bet he’s carrying concealed.”

  Since it was likely, she didn’t comment.