Getting Rough

by C. L. Parker

  I didn’t need to worry about Abby, though. She was preoccupied with Shaw, serving him up a lumberjack portion of hotcakes and sausage links while he scarfed them down and leaned into the pat on his head. I’d never seen Shaw so… boyish. It was sort of cute in a very disturbing way.

  “What’s got you in a such a good mood?” Abby asked when she saw me in the doorway.

  I felt my cheeks fall. Apparently, I’d been smiling. And why not? It was a gorgeous day and I felt good.

  “Yes, please tell us what’s got you glowing this morning,” Shaw said, his voice a dare.

  I shrugged on my way over to the coffeemaker. “You know, I have no idea. I think I just got something I really needed last night.” I paused, glancing over at Shaw with a grin as I poured my coffee.

  He winked at me, chewing his food with a little too much sexy. It was the first time I’d ever seen someone make chewing a slightly pornographic event. I even shot a look at Abby to be sure she hadn’t noticed.

  “Well, a good night’s sleep is always nice,” Abby said, oblivious.

  There was a ruckus at the front door then and we all turned in that direction. As I walked over and leaned into the doorway, I felt my smile broaden even more.

  “Ma! You’re home!” I said, setting my cup down and going to help Da.

  Ma was in a wheelchair, bless her, with her cast leg elevated, and the two of them had been fighting the door to keep it off her while he got her inside.

  “Why didn’t you come in through the mudroom?” I asked.

  Da grumbled. “I thought the gravel would make it harder to push her in this damn thing. Besides, we had that ramp out front put in for a reason. Might as well get some use out of it.”

  “He’s an old, stubborn mule,” Ma said, stretching her arms out for me to give her a hug.

  “Here, let me help with that,” Shaw said, stepping around Abby and taking the bag from Da.

  “And who are you?” my father asked.

  “He’s a guest, so be nice,” I told my father.

  “Guest or not, I think I’m capable of carrying my wife’s unmentionables,” he said, nodding toward the bag.

  Shaw held it out, surprised. “Oh, sorry. I was only trying to be helpful, sir. Shaw Matthews,” he said, handing the bag back to Da and offering his handshake as well. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Da took his hand. “Duff Whalen,” he said. “And this lovely daredevil is my wife, Anna. We own this place.”

  “I hope you’ve had a lovely stay so far.” Ma smiled up at him. “Abby’s so attentive to guests.”

  “She absolutely has been,” Shaw agreed.

  “Well, Ma,” I said with a sigh. “It’s a good thing your room is down here. Otherwise, I don’t know how we’d get you into bed.”

  My da puffed out his chest and sucked in his gut. “I’d carry her,” he said, not about to let anyone think he was incapable of it.

  “Lucky for your back, you won’t have to,” I said, giving him a quick hug for still wanting to be Ma’s hero.

  “Come on, Ma, let’s head that way,” I told her, unlocking the brake on the wheelchair and aiming her in the direction of the back of the house.

  Ma grabbed the wheel, stopping me. “I’ve been doing nothing but lying around in a bed for days now. If you think you’re going to get me into another anytime soon, you better think again. Besides, there’s no time for rest. We have to get ready for tomorrow.”

  Oh, dear God, what had this woman done now? “What’s tomorrow?” I asked, even though a part of me already knew the answer.

  “The whole town is throwing you a welcome-home party with a potluck picnic in your honor.”

  My shoulders sagged. I knew it! “Ma, come on. Seriously? You just got home from the hospital.”

  “And I’m just fine.”

  “You know you’re fighting a losing battle, right?” Da asked.

  “Oh, don’t worry, Cassidy,” Abby interjected. “My Anna’s going to be the one giving out the orders while I do her heavy lifting.” She winked as if that would somehow make me feel better. Maybe it did, but only a little.

  Though I was concerned about Ma, I knew she was okay and Abby and my da would never let her overdo it. I think maybe I was more concerned with the big deal that was being made over my short return home. Because it was just a short trip. But like I’d said before, Stonington hated to lose one of its own. So this town get-together was nothing more than an attempt to convince me to stay with all of its residents pitching in. The women, anyway. As for the men, this was simply an excuse to eat, drink, and probably show off their boats.

  “She’s a tough cookie,” Da said.

  “And speaking of cookies,” Abby turned to Shaw. “There’s a fresh batch in the kitchen. Go put yourself a few in a baggie to take with you.”

  Shaw gave her a spoiled grin. “Aw, bless you, Abby,” he said before giving her a kiss on the cheek and bounding off in that direction.

  I was astonished. Shaw had been here, like, two days and already those two had a thing. Not a thing thing, but certainly something that surpassed guest and hostess territory and teetered over into “Is that your mom?” land. If Casey had seen that exchange and knew Abby was giving away his cookies… I shuddered to think of his reaction.

  Abby turned to me then. “I’ll take care of things around here while the two of you are out. Make sure you take him by the quarry. He seemed to really be interested in that when I told him about it.”

  She took Ma’s wheelchair and headed to the back. No doubt the family room would become ground zero for Operation Make Cassidy Stay.

  “And then there were two,” I said with a chuckle to my father.

  Da just studied me, something stirring up behind those X-ray eyes of his.

  “Out with it, Da.”

  He shook his head. “Nothing. You go have your fun, but we’re going to talk about this later.”

  “Talk about what?”

  Da nodded toward the kitchen. “You and your new boyfriend under the same roof. My roof. You best be sleeping in separate bedrooms.”

  I rolled my eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend, Da.”

  “When you were younger and got into trouble, you always thought someone in town was telling on you.”

  That’s because they were, I thought.

  “They weren’t,” he continued, and then he stopped, turning to point a finger at me. “You were telling on yourself. I always knew when you’d done wrong because the corner of your mouth twitches when you lie.” He tapped the place to prove a point. “It just did it a little bit when you said that fellow isn’t your boyfriend.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to that. First, I apparently had a tic I wasn’t aware of. And secondly, Shaw as my boyfriend? My inner teenage girl gave a mental pfft and an as if.

  “The question is who are you lying to? Me or yourself?”

  Da walked away then, leaving me to ponder the question. I didn’t get to do so for long though because Shaw came strutting out of the kitchen with a cookie sticking out of his mouth and a baggie full of them in his hand.

  “All set,” he said with a spoiled grin.

  I shook my head and laughed at how adorkable he looked. Abby’s cookies had claimed yet another victim.

  CHAPTER 8

  Shaw

  The tour around town was… short. Deer Isle was nothing more than a speck on the map, and Stonington occupied only about forty square miles at the tip, only ten of which was actual land, the rest, water. I got a lot of attention from the locals, especially the fishermen as they came in from their day out on the water to stock up on pizza – made fresh by the deli at the only convenience store – and booze.

  Though most of the men were as young as me, if not younger, they looked at least a decade older, with their scruffy facial hair and sun-weathered skin. Each and every single one of them was so fit that I felt the need to suck in my gut and puff out my chest a little bit, and none of them missed the opportunity to loo
k me up and down. I guessed my well-pressed attire sort of stood out in a sea of flannel shirts and jeans riddled with holes. At least my hair seemed to be in line with the local trend, though I’d say their messy dos were a result of rolling out of bed like that rather than product and sculpting time in front of a mirror.

  They all knew Cassidy. Most everyone we encountered stopped to ask if she was back, though, duh, she was standing right in front of him or her, so of course she was. For the most part, Cassidy smiled and assured everyone she’d catch up with them at the picnic the next day, though she grumbled about it when we walked away. I couldn’t understand it. The woman’s freaking hometown was throwing her a welcome-home party and everyone seemed genuinely happy to see her, and she was grumpy about it. God, what I’d give if she and I could trade lives for just one day so she could see how lucky she was.

  Walking down Main Street back toward the Whalen House, at least a dozen trucks sped by, honking their greeting to Cassidy. I started to pay attention then, looking around at all the vehicles parked on the side of the street, but particularly down at the dock. With the exception of maybe a handful, they all had one thing in common.

  “Does everyone around here drive a truck?” I asked.

  A breeze came in from the bay, blowing Cassidy’s long, ginger hair across her face. She brushed the locks away, a playful sarcasm in her voice when she said, “Nah. Just the real men.”

  Hardy, har, har, I thought, seeing my tiny rental car parked in front of the Whalen House.

  “I’ve heard men who drive big trucks are overcompensating,” I countered.

  “Well, we can flag one of the guys down and find out.”

  “Yeah, right. That wouldn’t be awkward at all. ‘Excuse me,’” I said, switching gears and doing a very poor impersonation of a mousy scientist, “‘but we’re conducting a survey to find out if men who drive big trucks have tiny penises. Can we see yours?’”

  Cassidy shrugged. “You don’t know the men around here. They’ll whip it out and not even have to be asked.” She laughed. “Trust me, there is no shame in their game.”

  “You say that like it’s a normal occurrence.”

  “You have to understand where you are. We don’t have shopping malls or nightclubs. There’s nothing to do around here but hang out at the convenience store or ride around drinking beer. Boredom equals shenanigans.” Cassidy took my hand and started across the street. With an impish smile, she peered back over her shoulder at me. “Of course there is one other thing that can pass the time and ease the destructive behavior of a bored man.”

  I yanked on her hand, forcing a full stop. When she boomeranged back to me, I arched a brow. “If you tell me you played the part of Stonington’s activities director, I’m going to need bail money. Lots of bail money.”

  The thought of Cassidy keeping men entertained made me want to decapitate every man within a thousand-mile radius and tear him limb from limb.

  Cassidy’s head fell back with laughter, her neck so long and graceful that it soothed the green-eyed monster inside me. “First, we don’t have a jail. Our police force equals a whole whopping one, and he’s more of a rent-a-cop. We just keep him around to badger middle-aged women over expired tags on their vehicles. We police our own. It’s more effective that way. And second…”

  Cassidy’s attention was suddenly stolen and redirected to a girlish squeal down by the pier. It seemed Lobster Casey and Mia had returned from their fishing trip and Mia was having a hard time finding her balance while stepping from a rocking boat to the pier. As luck would have it, Casey had caught her, though so clumsily, she’d fallen back into his arms. Cassidy couldn’t take her eyes away, and I… couldn’t stop looking at her.

  “And second,” she continued without averting her attention. “Before you, I’d only ever been with one other man. But that was a very long time ago.” She turned toward me then, an uncomfortable smile making her no less beautiful. “We’d better get inside so I can help with dinner before Ma hobbles out on that cast leg to round me up. And don’t think for a second she wouldn’t.”

  Cassidy headed up the drive, turning one more time to steal another glance toward the pier. Damn, it wasn’t until then that I realized how very much we had in common. Maybe neither of us would ever be able to get over our past, no matter how far away we tried to run from it.

  Blueberry bread pudding was the dessert at dinner. I’d given Abby high praise for it, only for her to tell me she couldn’t take the credit this time because she hadn’t been the one to make it. Right on, Mrs. Whalen could also throw down in the kitchen, but she, too, said it wasn’t her. Imagine my surprise when I turned toward the only other possibility in the room to find Cassidy positively beaming with pride while studying the food on her plate.

  Fuck, I wanted her. A fact I didn’t think Papa Duff missed. In fact, I didn’t think her father missed much of anything. He was a quiet man, but I could feel the weight of his stare on me as he studied every move I made and dissected every word I said. The same way Cassidy had always done, in fact. I supposed that was where she’d gotten it. I had to wonder how much Cassidy had told him about me because it sure as hell felt like she’d told him I’d been boning his daughter on the regular and he was planning to murder me in my sleep. No doubt a man like Duff Whalen knew how to hide a body. And if he didn’t, I was positive the whole town would conspire for the cover-up. With Cock-block Casey taking the lead.

  A little afraid for my life, I decided against sneaking into Stonington’s favorite daughter’s bedroom for a second night in a row. Instead, I thought maybe a little brisk sea air would put my food-induced hard-on at ease, and I went out on the porch to relax in the swing. Stonington was fast asleep again, quiet and dark. It dawned on me that it was probably the same old routine around here, day after day: wake before dawn, eat, fish, eat, sleep. Rinse and repeat. How boring. No wonder Cassidy ran away from home.

  Speaking of, Cassidy came out to join me with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. “Aren’t you cold?” she asked.

  Although it was springtime, there was still a chill in the air when night fell. Having been born and raised in Detroit, I was used to it, but that didn’t mean I’d miss the opportunity before me.

  “A little. Why don’t you come share some of that with me like a good little hostess?”

  Though she gave me a look, she still came over and sat beside me on the porch swing. I wasn’t satisfied with just sharing the blanket, so I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her into my side.

  “There, that’s better,” I told her. I had no clue why she was looking at me like I’d grown two heads. It was cold. Body heat was a logical solution. So was taking my ass inside the house where the heat was on, but that wasn’t the point. I really wasn’t sure what the point was. I just knew that I wanted her closer and I was glad she didn’t make me look stupid for it.

  “So,” I said, sighing. “Big picnic tomorrow, huh?”

  I could sense the roll of her eyes even as her head dropped back onto my shoulder with a groan. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Man, you’re like a local celebrity around here,” I told her, tightening my arm around her shoulders. “You should feel good about that. A picnic in your honor?”

  “It’s not as grand as it might sound. It’s just their way of making me feel bad.”

  “No one’s ever thrown a picnic for me. And if they ever did, I can’t imagine it would make me feel bad.”

  “You have to understand this is nothing more than a trap. They lure you in with the promise of food and a good time, and then blammo! Everyone who has ever known you shows up to welcome you back home, where you belong,” she added with air quotes, “and make you feel guilty about ever having left in the first place by telling you how they’ve suffered because of your absence. You’re lucky you haven’t had to endure the torture.”

  “Lucky? Cassidy, my parents don’t even know where I am right now. Nor do they care. You think I abandoned them. I
didn’t. They abandoned me.”

  “Jesus, I’m so sorry, Shaw.”

  “Don’t be. It made me stronger. But being here has really made me see what I’ve been missing all my life.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like I haven’t had a single meal by myself.” When her brows furrowed, I explained, “I can’t remember ever sitting down to the dinner table with my parents. In fact, they never even made me a warm meal. I practically lived off cereal, and most of the time, I had to keep my fingers crossed that the milk wasn’t spoiled.”