by Brooke Moss
“Wonderful,” I muttered to myself, feeling tears well in my eyes. I felt like such an idiot. I couldn’t seem to get anything right. Chalk this up to another Alice screw up.
“Give a guy a chance to stop. You could have gotten hurt.” Elijah said, behind me.
I spun around, anger replacing sadness, and sputtered out, “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t have sued you!”
Who did this guy think he was, anyway? Men who look like him, and drove cars like his, were nothing but trouble. I wished he’d just go away. He was only one of a thousand I had already met.
“Wow, ok. I get it, your stuff is gone, isn’t it?”
“It’s fine. No big deal. Thanks for your help with the seal.”
I turned on my heel, without so much as a goodbye and took off toward home. I knew I was being rude, but I also knew Elijah was not what he appeared to be at first glance. He may look great, but so did a lot of people around here. External beauty was about as common in California as beaches and movie stars. Internal beauty was much more difficult to come by.
“Ok then, bye!” he shouted after me.
I felt a little guilty for not being nice to Elijah. He didn’t have to come after me. He could have driven off, after I threw myself out of his car. Self-preservation was the key to survival in a shark tank. Elijah was surely a shark, and I was through being bait.
The last time I allowed myself to be taken in by gorgeous eyes and a firm butt, I found out I was one of six other girls ‘Mr. Big Stuff’ kept on the side. Successful in real estate, the guy had one girl in every beach town in Orange County. His reason for hardly ever seeing me was his crazy-busy work schedule. The guy before him was married. Thank God, I found out before I slept with him. You can hardly blame a girl for feeling a bit jaded.
Two blocks later, I let my emotions get the better of me. Hot tears slid down my cheeks. I may also have openly sobbed, dribbling some snot. Folks on the sidewalk gave me a wide berth. You simply did not let yourself fall apart in Laguna Beach. Never one to follow the herd, I let myself cry, heedless to the looks of passerby’s. It was only an easel, some paints, and brushes. But to me, those few items were everything. Not only did they have personal meaning, but they were the means by which I made my meager, little living.
I didn’t want Sylvie to see my tears, so I had to dry it up by the time I reached the twin cottages. If Sylvie smelled a whiff of a tear, she would make me explain, then march me right over to Lee’s Art Supply and replace everything I’d lost. I couldn’t let her spend money on me. Any more money on me, that is. She did enough with letting me stay in the cottage rent-free. She’d often fed me, as well.
With an obstructed ocean view, she could easily ask a small fortune every month for her little guest house. I suspected she could use the cash, although she would never say. Her own beautiful cape cod style, two-bedroom cottage, overlooking the pacific, would sell any day of the week for several million. But, I knew she would never give it up; she couldn’t. Sylvie and my grandfather had purchased the little lot 50 years ago, for a song. Then built the cottage and guest house with their own two hands.
In the end, I managed to pull myself together, before slipping through my front door. Washing my face felt heavenly. As I patted my skin dry, I looked in the mirror. The face staring back at me was youthful and round with large, dark-brown eyes, topped by well-defined eyebrows. My best friend, Jude thought I belonged in a by gone era of poodle skirts, and saddle shoes. He was right. I never felt truly of my generation. Selfies, filters, and dating apps weren’t for me.
The scent of Sylvie’s homemade chicken noodle soup wafted through the air and set my stomach to rumbling the second I walked through the back door. Her little home was a haven, an escape from the dreariness my life had become.
“There you are, dear. Wash your hands and sit down.”
I smiled, doing as she bid. Maybe someday, I would grow up in the eyes of my grandmother. The safe bet was probably not. We sat across from each other, sipping soup, and gazing at the frothy waves below.
“Did you get any work done? Notice any cute boys?” Sylvie always stacked her questions. Why ask one when two or four would do?
“What’s this about cute boys? Alice, are you back on the market? It’s about time. Something smells amaze.” Jude entered through the back of the house, without knocking, talking a mile a minute. He ladled himself a bowl of soup from the stove, as welcome here as at my place. He kissed the top of my head, taking Sylvie’s freshly vacated seat.
Always a quick eater, Sylvie said, “I’ll leave you kids alone to talk. I have flowers to prune.”
“Why do you smell like fish?” he asked, crumpling up his small nose. Jude ate, his long legs stuck out to the side, while I related the story of my morning adventures.
“The car, it’s a Jaguar,” he interrupted, unable to help himself.
“What?”
“A classic Jag, the car you’re describing. The guy; was he hot, or not?”
I sighed. Jude was missing the point. “I suppose he was hot. Who cares. A. He’s probably a jerk, and B. Guys like that aren’t interested in mousy nobodies.”
“Doesn’t sound like he was a jerk. Sounds like he’s nice. Get your head out of your you know what. Please stop being bitter, it’s getting tired. And, we all know you are no mouse, Ms. Audrey Hepburn look alike.” He finished by snapping his fingers. Which in Jude-speak, meant that was all we’re going to say about that.
“Whatever, my more immediate concern is replacing my easel. Looks like I’ll be resorting to selling paintings on the street corner this weekend.”
“No need, Eliza Doolittle. I come bearing checks. Well, a check. Two of your ocean sunsets sold yesterday. I thought you could use the money, and I was right, as usual.”
Jude produced a folded check from his pocket, smoothed it, and presented it to me with a flourish. He could have opened with the check, but leave it to Jude to add some dramatic flair to the afternoon.
“Jude, what would I do without you? Thank you.” My eyes focused on the amount, and I sighed. The gorgeous check was enough to cover a new easel, paints, even a few groceries.
“Thank you, Alice. You’re a gifted artist, you know. The work you produce sells. Or anyway, it used to. The market today…”
Jude trailed off his sentence, but I knew what he meant. Buying artwork was not a priority for the masses. Tourists were usually on a budget, and most locals had several pieces of beach themed artwork already. How many paintings of water did one household need? Still, I found it hard to paint anything else. The ocean was my inspiration.
“So, how do we get in touch with this Elijah? Even his name is sexy. Does he live in Laguna Beach?”
“We don’t get in touch with Elijah. I didn’t ask for his information, and he didn’t ask for mine, not that I gave him a chance. He seems like a city boy. My money’s on Hollywood. So, good riddance.”
“Girl, you are so jaded. It’s sad for one so young.”
“I am not,” I said, a tad sulkily. “I’m a realist.”
“Mm hmm. Realist is just a nicer way to say bitter.” Jude stood and stacked our bowls. “You never know what could happen, Alice. Look at Ben and I.”
I couldn’t deny his logic. Jude had been as jaded as I was, until he met Ben. Ben’s persistence, kindness, and chiseled face had won the day. Almost a year later, they were still happy and going strong.
“I’ll take a risk…When I know it’s right.” I reasoned.
Jude laughed. “The whole point of taking a risk, is you don’t know if it’s right. You just go for it. Hence, the word risk. Really, Alice, the time is ripe for you, my love. You couldn’t possibly have any worse luck. Should we also talk about the stack of paranormal romances I know are piled next to your bed, right at this very moment? If you’re waiting for a sexy vampire god to descend from the starry night and take you away from it all, you’re going to be waiting a while.”
He had a point. A little stung, I began
to regret the way I had behaved today. Elijah hadn’t acted like a jerk. But, I had. I shook my head. It didn’t matter. Jerk or not, we were worlds apart. I had also assumed he was single, which seemed unlikely. A guy with that body? Taken. I could concede Jude a small point. Maybe it was time I opened my mind, and my heart, to the possibly of dating, again.
CHAPTER THREE
A throbbing headache woke me at dawn. Jude had talked me into sharing a bottle of Pinot Noir on the beach. We laid out blankets, sprawled on the sand under the stars, and drank wine until we were laughing like idiots. I tried not to imagine what it would be like, sharing this moment with a man who found me attractive. However, trying and doing were two different things.
Bleary eyed, I rummaged through the bathroom cabinet for the bottle of pain reliever. I popped two white pills and washed them down with an entire glass of water. The hot shower felt incredibly delicious. I stayed in until my skin was close to pruning. After towel drying my auburn hair, I pulled it into a ponytail, changed my mind, and let it hang loose, instead.
The night before, Sylvie lent me the keys to her ancient, baby-blue jeep. My seal, who I decided to name Charlie, was first and foremost on my mind. It was time to see how he had passed the night. A phone call would have done, but I hoped they’d let me see him. Thinking of his abrasions, not to mention how still he had been by the time the rescuers came, had me worried. I hoped the little guy would make it. People and their trash made me furious.
Since I finally had some cash, I stopped for a London Fog and a cinnamon scone to eat on the way. Hannah’s Coffee House was the breakfast spot in Laguna Beach. Hannah’s warmth and friendliness, not to mention great coffee and delectable homemade pastries, made her shop a local favorite. The small, brick building was typically packed to overflowing every morning of the week. The coffee was always delicious and the staff friendly, unlike some of the other establishments nearby. Luckily for me, the morning rush had subsided, allowing me a spot right in front.
“Alice, you never drive. Where are you off to, this morning?” Hannah spoke as she swept the front walk. I recounted yesterday’s events, as she walked me into the shop.
“That poor baby. Please let me know how he gets on. The Sea Life Rescue does great work. Too bad they’re always hurting for donations.”
She was right. The rescue had only one veterinarian on staff. Everyone else who worked at the rescue was a volunteer. If only there was some way to help them. I left Hannah’s feeling a little down. They did do great work. Without them, I wasn’t sure where wounded marine life would go.
Stepping out of the jeep at the rescue, my flip-flop snagged on the gas pedal and I lost my grip on my scorching hot tea latte. The plastic top came loose, and the tea spilled down the front of my top. Leaping out of the car, I managed to knock most of the liquid off before it scalded my stomach. My flesh was saved, but my vintage tee was likely ruined. I stared, sadly, down at the four-dollar puddle on the floorboard. After grabbing some napkins out of the side pocket of the driver’s side door, I bent over to wipe up my mess. The London Fog was easily soaked up, thanks to the plastic floor mats.
“Having problems?” asked a familiar voice, behind me.
My stomach did a somersault, but I wasn’t ready to turn around. That is, until I realized my rear end was on prominent display. I stood bolt upright, adjusting my tee the best I could. Nothing was going to help this disaster, so I may as well own it.
“Actually, several. Flip flops, jeeps, and hot beverages do not make good bedfellows.” I met Elijah’s sparkling, emerald-green eyes.
He chuckled, producing a half grin. I hated to admit how good he looked. Elijah was probably the only person on the planet who could look pulled together in athletic gear. I wasn’t a fan of the trend, but he looked great in long running shorts and a close fitting, breathable shirt. Although these were the only types of clothes I had seen him in, I was sure he looked amazing in anything.
“Let me take that. I assume we’re here for the same thing.” He reached for my empty coffee cup and wet napkins. Was he the last gentleman on earth? Or was Jude right and I was just bitter?
I thanked him, and he jogged over to a trashcan, then back to where I stood. Now I felt more of a heel. I wasn’t willing to claim any miracles, but I did at least owe him an apology.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you, yesterday. You were trying to be nice, and I was…”
“I know what you were feeling, don’t worry about it,” he interrupted. “The morning was stressful, enough. Then to find out your stuff was stolen. I got it.”
Suspicious, my eyes narrowed, a little. I couldn’t help it; this guy was too good to be true.
“Are you from California?” I asked, thinking I had found the answer. Elijah must have hailed from a mid-western state; a place which produced corn, cows, and people who looked out for one another. Somewhere like the place my grandparents hailed from. This would also explain the milk-ad appeal of his handsome, good looks.
“Born and raised in L.A. I’ve lived there my whole life. Until recently, that is.” This didn’t quite compute with my acquaintance of California guys, my personal experience being rather crummy. But, even I could admit, aberrations in nature occasionally occurred.
“Until recently? So, have you moved here, to Laguna? It’s very different from Los Angeles. The pace is slower, the atmosphere more relaxed.”
“Which is exactly why I chose it. I’m not sure if I’m going to stay permanently. I’m in a testing-out phase.”
A testing out phase was an interesting turn of phrase. For me this meant, don’t get too attached. Something I hadn’t been planning on doing anyway. Elijah and I walked through the main gate into the front area of the rescue. A little beyond the shop were the three outdoor pools, enclosed by chain link. Enjoying these pools were several seals, most of whom appeared by their size to be juveniles. Watching them glide through the water, splash, and play lifted my spirits immeasurably. I knew Charlie wouldn’t be out here yet but hoped he soon would be.
“Hello, welcome to Sea Life Rescue.” A woman in a purple polo shirt walked toward us. “Oh, you came in with our new boy, yesterday.”
I stepped forward, reaching for her hand. “Yes. We were wondering if we could see him, check on his progress.”
Her nice, happy smile turned a little sad. “Well, he made it through the night. That’s the good news. But, he had a rough day, yesterday and was despondent. Let me find Dr. Williams and ask if you can see him. Will you wait here?”
Elijah and I were both happy to wait. We sat on a bench, watching the rehabilitated seals having a good time. According to the sign in front of their pen, they would soon be released to enjoy the ocean, once again. After sitting in silence for a few minutes, he surprised me by asking, “Why don’t you let me take you for another coffee after this. I haven’t had breakfast yet.”
I felt like a kid, just asked out for the first time. The somersault from earlier made another appearance. Why did this guy cause me to react in such extremes? I was reluctant, but the thought of a fresh coffee sounded wonderful.
“Sure. Except, I’m kind of a mess.” I gestured to my shirt.
“I have a clean t-shirt in my car if you want to throw it on. I always keep a change of clothes for after a workout.”
“Ok, why not. I haven’t hit my required caffeine intake for the day.” I’d surprised myself by accepting. Still, why not? At least I could tell Jude I’d given the guy a chance.
After a little bit, we were being escorted into the large barn-like building at the back of the rescue’s property. We were greeted at the door by Dr. Williams, a middle-aged lady who reminded me more of a librarian, than a doctor. She gave us a rundown on the prognosis, and the rules we must follow to be allowed to see Charlie. Basically, we were told to keep our voices down, and our hands to ourselves. She asked we not speak to Charlie, directly. Explaining they didn’t talk to animals who were to be released back into the wild.
“Your friend is doing well. I expect him to be back out to sea in about six months.” This was wonderful news, more than I had hoped for.
“Thank you so much doctor. And, his name is Charlie.”
Dr. Williams laughed, and stood aside so we could enter. Elijah and I spent about thirty minutes just sitting with Charlie, which is all we were allowed. When it was time for us to go, I blew him a silent kiss. I walked out of the rescue feeling good. I was hopeful Charlie would make a full recovery, and the wheels churned with thoughts of how to help this organization.
CHAPTER FOUR
True to his word, Elijah produced a clean, white t-shirt from a duffel bag in his trunk. I quickly swapped my dirty tee for his, while awkwardly lying down in the back seat of the jeep. Elijah stood guard outside, his back to me. We had decided to leave my car and come back for it later. So, after I had changed, I locked up Sylvie’s jeep.
Once seated in the passenger seat of Elijah’s car, I leaned over and manually unlocked his door. A gesture I always found to be polite, but one I didn’t get to do much anymore, with the automatic locks. “Thanks, for this shirt. This is a huge improvement.” I clicked my seat belt in place.
“Looks better on you, that’s for sure. It’s gotten a little tight for me.” He put the gear in reverse.
Not sure what to say, I opted for looking out the window, feeling a little uncomfortable. He’d asked me for coffee and given me a sort of half compliment. Plus, he had continued to be nice, even though I hadn’t been quite so kind to him. To fill the silence, I tried to make some small talk. Chitchat wasn’t my strong suit, but I felt the need to ramble on about something.