“Yeah, but what did you pay for it? Maybe you didn’t notice, but that chick was busting my ass. She took money out of my pocket, and yours too, not to mention she froze out all of those people you’d just been gushing about wanting to feed.”
“We didn’t have a permit, Hal.”
“We couldn’t get one.”
“And that’s her fault?”
“It’s not mine, either.”
Quinn bit her lip. It was Hal’s fault. She didn’t follow the rules. The cop was just doing her job, and yet something told her now wasn’t the time to say so. Her silence didn’t keep Hal from continuing though.
“I get it. You do think it’s my fault, even though Captain Khaki out there all but said I couldn’t have gotten one. I’m being penalized for not following a rule that couldn’t possibly be followed.”
“You couldn’t get one because you didn’t plan ahead. That’s not the same as not being able to get one.”
Hal tossed her sponge into the sink. “You came up with this idea this morning. How was I supposed to plan ahead?”
Quinn opened her mouth, then closed it again, giving Hal the chance to plow forward.
“What was I supposed to do? Did you want me to say, ‘great idea, but by the time the permits clear we’ll have been back in Buffalo for three days?’”
“You could have.”
“And miss out on all of this? Miss out on you seeing how amazing we can be? Miss out on what’s probably our last chance to be partners in something we can both feel good about?” Hal’s voice cracked in frustration, but she didn’t stop. “You asked me for this Quinn, and for just once I wanted to tell you yes. I wanted to hear one of your plans and believe we could make it work.”
“There’s a system in place.”
“The system’s broken. The system doesn’t look out for people like me. It never has and it never will.” Hal was practically shouting now. “While a bunch of pencil pushers in an office somewhere string out their red tape, people go hungry. We do without. I wait and I wait and I wait while the opportunities pass me by. I don’t like being a part of those systems.”
A flash of realization shot through Quinn like a lance as the echo of Hal’s voice bled in through her real-time rant. It’s like every other big system, all the talk about going hungry, of waiting for relief that wouldn’t come, or her opinion of authority figures.
“Who were we hurting, Quinn?” Hal pleaded. “By feeding people, just feeding them, who did we hurt?”
“No one.”
“And who benefits from shutting us down?”
“No one,” Quinn said quickly.
“God, why did I think you’d understand? Why did I think any of it would matter? A big butch rolls up with a uniform and a badge, and you practically swoon for all the protocol and procedure talk.” Hal pushed her hands through her hair and turned away, talking almost to herself now. “God, I was stupid to expect anything else, wasn’t I? This whole weekend was stupid.”
Quinn caught her arm and pulled her close. “It’s not stupid.”
“I was stupid, then, because it wasn’t ever going to work. There wasn’t a plan or a chain of command. We just saw an opportunity and we jumped. That’s freedom, but it’s not control. And it’s not, it’s not—”
Quinn kissed her lightly on the lips. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“It’s okay,” Quinn said softly, putting her forehead to Hal’s. “I understand.”
“What do you understand?”
“Why you did it. It makes sense now.”
Hal pouted a minute more before lifting her dark, wounded eyes. “Really?”
“Yes. Some systems need fixing,” she said sincerely, then smiled. “Like that thing outside your food truck you keep referring to as a line.”
Hal’s shoulders shook with a silent laugh, and the vice grip on Quinn’s chest began to loosen.
“And for what it’s worth, Officer Tall, Dark, and Handsome wasn’t my type.”
“Oh, come on, she’s like something out of a lesbian romance novel.”
“Maybe, but I like to be the one with control issues in a relationship.”
The corners of Hal’s mouth twitched up. “Well, there’s something I have to offer you.”
“You have so much to offer, Hal. Giving me an outlet for my anal-retentive side is just the beginning of your talents.”
“You say the nicest things.”
“I really do, but only because you deserve them. And also because you have two leftover lobstah roll grilled cheeses.”
A real smile finally broke through, and Quinn drew her first full deep breath in ten minutes. She’d mentioned earlier that feeding people had felt a bit like a drug, but now seeing Hal relax back into her happy self and knowing she’d been the one to soothe her left Quinn wondering if maybe what she felt for her wasn’t actually something stronger than addiction.
“So,” Quinn said, as they pulled out of the parking lot and saw the police cruiser turn the opposite direction, “what’s next on the menu?”
“Literally or figuratively?” Hal asked, still shaken from her earlier meltdown.
“Either or both. I don’t care.”
“Well,” Hal said, casting a sidelong glance at her. Quinn had twisted in her seat so her back rested against the latched door of the truck. She curled one knee to her chest and rested her chin on top. She seemed so relaxed there in that seat, so comfortable, and Hal had to admit the sight comforted her too. “Despite what we just heard from the local law enforcement, this is still our weekend of whims. How can I fulfill yours?”
“I would say I kind of want to hang out by the water, but I’m not sure the truck should be seen anywhere near the local beaches for a while.”
“Good point, but I know a way around that, if you’d like.”
“More getting around rules. Lovely.”
Hal laughed at Quinn’s attempt not to sound bothered. She really had done a pretty stellar job of not freaking out so far, better than herself. Time to give her a bit of the vacation she really deserved. “Actually, what we’re about to do won’t break any rules at all.”
“I love when you say sexy things like that.”
She felt her smile return with the witty banter. “I aim to please.”
“And there’s the please word I love so much. The day is looking up.”
Hal couldn’t disagree as she turned off of 6A when it split from Province Lands Road and spun into a little circle drive around a small patio where a stone marker commemorated the site of the pilgrims’ first landing. The monument was less grand than the mammoth tower rising up from the center of town to commemorate the same event. Still, what it lacked in grandeur, it made up for with its amazing view.
To their right stretched the expansive curve of the Province Lands, with their rising dunes and waving grasses as they cradled the western shoals of Provincetown Harbor. Directly across the water stood a small lighthouse, square and white against the horizon, with its black cap looking so much like a dapper hat. And between them, stretching out like a bridge across a bay, stood a solid string of piled rocks, jagged and dark, both dividing and connecting the beautiful landscapes before them.
“What is this place?” Quinn asked. “It’s so beautiful. I mean I feel like I keep using that word here, but every place we stop is more gorgeous than the last.”
“It’s a breakwater.”
“I’ve seen something like this in the outer harbor on Lake Erie.”
“Similar concept, but for slightly different reasons.” Hal killed the engine and climbed out of the truck. “In both cases they are there to protect the shore or the boats in the harbor from high surf. It literally breaks the water, or the waves, as they hurl toward land.”
“Makes sense.”
“This one, though, doesn’t have any houses or boats to protect. It’s there to protect the sand.” Hal leaned against a metal railing along the sidewalk.
“The sand?”
“Provincetown and this whole curling finger of Cape Cod is just a glorified sand bar. There’s no bedrock, so the dunes are always shifting. They’re never in the same place twice, which is why it’s so important for people not to tramp down the grasses or cut down what little shrubbery grows out here.”
“And the rocks do the same thing for the water?”
“Exactly,” Hal said, “they provide a buffer for the waves so they can’t take the beach we just got kicked off of out into the ocean. It also makes for a perfect estuary and a sweet tourist attraction.”
“That’s pretty genius.”
“It is, but it’s also just plain pretty. You can walk all the way across to the lighthouse, or you can just go out halfway into the middle of the harbor, find yourself a flat rock, and take in a little sun.”
“I vote for option number two.”
“I thought you might.” Hal swung open the back door of the truck and unlatched a cargo hold. She hadn’t exactly planned the excursion, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t hoped they’d end up here at some point. “Let me grab you a beach towel and me a fishing pole, then we’ll go find your little piece of heaven.”
She threw the towel over her shoulder, then with a small tackle box in one hand and fishing rod in the other, she and Quinn set off onto the rocks.
Aside from pointing out the occasional gull diving for a crab or fishing trawler pulling into the harbor, they didn’t talk much along the way. Hal enjoyed watching Quinn’s blue eyes scan their surroundings, so filled with awe and wonder. She’d been so much more than expected on this trip. She’d gone along for the ride, she’d engaged in so many steps along the way, and she hadn’t complained about the work or the conditions. If anything, she’d reveled in them. The vision of the pushy, uptight banker Hal formed the day they’d met had all but faded away. Even in the aftermath of the police bust, when Quinn’s frustration valve cracked, she’d taken the time to listen, to consider Hal’s points, and to change her mind.
If anything, Hal had been the unyielding one. She didn’t know what came over her when she’d seen Quinn with those cops. A feeling she’d never felt before grabbed hold of her chest, or her throat, and shook her like a tight fist. Something inside of her had cracked a little bit. If she didn’t know better, she’d have sworn she’d been jealous. But she wasn’t a jealous person. Her whole outlook on life centered on not wanting things she couldn’t have, not getting too attached to anything she did have, and never ever claiming ownership of anything that couldn’t really belong to her. Still, when Quinn had started to flirt with the cop, she’d felt ten years old again, being ripped away from yet another dream she’d let herself get entirely too comfortable in.
She’d kind of freaked out.
And she’d kind of lashed out.
Then she’d tried to close Quinn out.
And yet there she stood, golden and perfect in the sunlight right beside her.
“I like this spot,” Quinn said, oblivious to the stream of consciousness rushing through Hal’s mind. “This is my rock.”
Hal glanced at the large, flat stone about the size of a kitchen table, then set down her tackle box and handed Quinn the large, red beach towel. “Nice choice. Now stake your claim.”
Quinn caught hold of the end of the towel, then shook it out on the breeze and unfurled it like a flag, allowing it to flap a second or two before settling to the side and leaving plenty of room for pedestrians to pass by without disturbing her. Foot traffic wasn’t as heavy as expected for the holiday weekend, with only the occasional lesbians hiking with their dogs, or families with children hopping from rock to rock, and many of them turned back before they reached Quinn’s rock.
“Are you going to catch us dinner?” Quinn asked.
“I may. If I’m lucky.” Hal scooted down to a rock just below Quinn’s on the side facing the main harbor. She flipped open the tackle box and pulled out a lure. “These waters have been overfished for generations, but sometimes you can still hit on a school of cod or fluke.”
“Well, look at you busting out your angler knowledge.”
“It’s not my first trip to Ptown.”
“I don’t want to think about you being here before,” Quinn said. “Is that silly of me?”
“Maybe,” Hal said, then thought more, “but I kind of like you being silly, so I guess that makes me silly too.”
“Then it’s our first trip to Ptown. Good luck with that fish-catching.” Quinn seemed amused by the idea, her smile playful as she lay on her side to watch.
She looked like a classy pin-up, if there ever was such a thing. Her legs went on forever under her khaki shorts, and she’d shed her over-shirt, revealing a simple white tank top. She was so long and lovely laid out like that, her blond hair golden in the sun and her blue eyes sparkling like the water below.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Huh?” Hal realized she’d been caught staring. “You comfortable?”
“Very. What about you? Stalling?”
“No.” Hal busied herself baiting her hook. “I’ve got everything under control. You won’t starve on my watch.”
“I never worried I would. I’m just interested to see how you’re going to catch me a grilled cheese.”
“A what?”
“You said you were going to catch dinner, and we always eat sandwiches, so I figured that’s what you’re fishing for.”
Hal smirked. “I feel like there was a challenge in there somewhere.”
“No, a challenge would be if I said I’d suddenly grown lactose and gluten intolerant.”
“That wouldn’t be a challenge. That’d be the end of our relationship,” Hal mumbled.
“I heard that.”
“You were meant to.”
“Really? Are you so insecure about your own abilities—”
“Who said anything about insecure?”
“Well when people don’t think they can live up to a challenge . . .” Quinn let the end of that sentence dangle.
“I can live up to it. A meal without bread or cheese, that’s not hard to do. It’s like eating air.”
Quinn laughed and flipped down a pair of sunglasses she’d stolen from Hal’s truck. Damn, she looked good in them. A warmth greater than that of the summer sun started in her chest and spread lower. God, there was something about a woman in a pair of cheap sunglasses . . .
Wait, what had they been talking about?
Eating.
Food.
Bad food.
Without bread and cheese.
The thought helped return her focus. “I can make you a dinner without bread and without cheese and still knock your shorts off.”
“Prove it, Fryboi, and we’ll see whose shorts come off first.”
Hal grinned as she cast her line out as far as she could. Quinn clearly thought Hal would be the one on the hook at the end of the day. Maybe, but when it came to challenges from beautiful women, she couldn’t resist biting.
Chapter Seventeen
“I got one,” Hal said after half an hour.
Quinn lifted her head and lowered the rim of her purloined sunglasses to get a better look. Sure enough, Hal’s line pulled taught with the strain of a fighting fish. She reeled and pulled, then let the line run out a little before jerking back again. Quinn sat up, no longer watching the line so much as the woman working it.
She wouldn’t know a good fishing technique from a knitting pattern, but Hal certainly looked convincing. She seemed so casual, so effortless, so fluid. Quinn suspected Hal might just be one of those people who was quietly good at everything. She cooked, she cleaned up after herself, she could do business math in her head. She was funny and quick witted, a great dancer, and apparently a skilled fisherwoman. Most of all, she’d had nothing handed to her—no formal training, no real education, not even a parent or family to help mold her. Quinn liked to think of herself as a self-made woman, but when she looked at Hal, she had little doubt about which of them
had made more with less.
Hal, on the other hand, seemed unaware of how amazing she really was. While she had not an ounce of insecurity about her chef skills, she’d shown some big ones in other areas when the police had arrived earlier, and even more when they’d left. Was she really jealous about Quinn’s flirting with the uptight cop? Was it just her residual feelings of helplessness regarding the foster care system, or did her reaction say something deeper about their relationship?
“Hey,” Hal said, pulling her prize out of the water. “How about some credit here?”
The flat and brown fish had tan spots and a thin frill all the way around. She scrunched up her nose. “That’s the ugliest fish I have ever seen.”
“Are you kidding me? This is a fluke. It’s a kind of grouper. It’s a thing of beauty.”
“If that’s your idea of beautiful, I’m beginning to rethink all the compliments you’ve ever given me.”
“Come on.” Hal laughed. “It’s huge for shoreline fishing.”
“It is big,” she admitted. “More than a foot, probably.”
“Probably? I’d say closer to two feet.”
“You’re such a guy sometimes.”
“A guy who’s going to make you dinner.”
“With that?” She wrinkled up her nose. “It looks like a wet scab.”
“It won’t when I get done.”
“I don’t know, Hal.” A twinge of regret pricked at her skin. Why had she made that silly bet about no bread or cheese? Now there’d be nothing between her and that slime ball. “What if we went out to dinner? My treat.”
“Not a chance.” Hal beamed proudly at her catch. “This is going to work perfectly, and it’s just the beginning.”
“There’s more?”
“Of course.” Hal unhooked the fish and put it in a net she fastened to her tackle box, before she dropped it back into the water between two of the big rocks. “The tide’s about midway between high and low. We should have a good, fast current heading in now.”
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