Up to the Challenge ai-2

by Terri Osburn

  “Is that the prodigal lawyer returned to our humble island home?”

  Lucas looked up to see a familiar face at the end of the drive.

  “Only for a visit,” Lucas said, then with a smile added, “This island isn’t big enough for two lawyers.”

  Arthur Berkowitz, Artie to his friends, had been the only lawyer on Anchor Island since before the Dempsey family arrived two decades before. Artie’s impassioned presentation on career day, during Lucas’s sophomore year of high school, had set him on the path to law school.

  “How have you been, sir?”

  Artie waved off the moniker. “None of that sir stuff. We’re on equal footing now, though I hear you’re aiming higher than this old codger ever dreamed.”

  Lucas stood taller. “I have my eye on a partnership. Nothing you couldn’t have achieved if circumstances had been different.” In other words, if the man had practiced his trade somewhere other than this remote island.

  “Maybe,” Artie said with a grin, his hanging jowls, loosened by age, making his narrow face seem longer. The few wisps of gray hair covering his balding skull danced in the breeze. “But I’d have been miserable with all that ass kissing and back stabbing.” He clenched his hands over a rounded stomach and rocked back on his heels. Lucas worried the shifting of all that weight might send him tipping over. “Anchor Island was always enough for me.”

  “To each his own,” Lucas said, reluctant to defend his choices to the man he’d once considered a mentor. “I see Rufus is still hanging in there.”

  As if recognizing his name, the basset hound at Artie’s side gave a mournful yowl.

  “We’re a pair, the two of us.” Artie gave Rufus a pat on the head. “Two old dogs doing as little as possible.”

  “Not taking on a lot of cases these days?” Lucas asked.

  “None at all. Retired. Rufus and I are enjoying our golden years. Taking time to smell the flowers, one might say.”

  Lucas had never thought much about Artie never marrying, but couldn’t avoid wondering if he faced a similar future. Spending his final years with only a dog for companionship. A morbid thought.

  “Wait. You’re retired? Who took over the practice?”

  Artie shrugged. “No one. I put out the word there’d be an opening here on the island, but there were no takers. Requires vision to recognize the benefits of a life this small. As you probably know, the word small doesn’t enter most lawyers’ vocabularies.”

  Lucas couldn’t let that one pass. “Nothing wrong with wanting more than drawing up land deeds and writing wills.”

  “Nothing wrong with that at all,” Artie agreed, though the glint in his eye suggested he didn’t agree at all. “I was sorry to hear about your father. Is that why you’re here? Hope he’s going to be all right.”

  “Doctors expect a full recovery, but that’ll take time, so I’m here to help out.”

  “You’re here for more than the weekend?”

  “Six weeks minimum,” Lucas replied. “I’ll be running the restaurant during the day, with Joe taking over in the evenings.”

  Artie’s sharp eyes narrowed. “Must throw a wrench into that partnership idea. Your firm good with you picking up and leaving like that?”

  A muscle ticked in Lucas’s jaw. “The timing worked out. It’s not a problem.” Ready to end the conversation, he added, “I was heading out for a run. Better get going so I have time to shower before opening time.”

  “Yes. Yes. Don’t let Rufus and me hold you up.”

  Lucas had taken three steps when Artie spoke again. “One thing before you go.”

  He rolled his eyes before turning back around. “Yeah. Sure.”

  “How many summers did you help out around the office?”

  “Three before college, then another between freshman and sophomore year. Why?”

  Artie took his time crossing the distance between them, his gaze on the rocks at their feet. When he’d caught up, ice blue eyes met Lucas’s. “Sometimes things aren’t as simple as we remember them.” As if he’d just said something that made sense, the older man moved around Lucas and walked away, hound trotting along beside.

  What in the hell did that mean? Before Lucas could ask, the strolling pair made a left and disappeared from sight.

  Sid rolled up to Dempsey’s at nine on the dot. She’d offered to stop for Lucas on the way, but he’d turned her down, saying he preferred to walk. More power to him. Pushing through the unlocked doors, she found him standing by the bar scanning a menu. Assumedly to get reacquainted with the options.

  Loose-fitting jeans rode low on his hips, reminding Sid of the cover model on one of the romance novels she kept hidden in her closet. Except Lucas looked better than the model. If he planned to wear those things every day, the next six weeks would be hell on her libido. The white polo shirt didn’t help either. A hint of chest hair teased at the collar, while tight sleeves showed off tan, well-defined arms.

  When did a workaholic find time to build that kind of muscle?

  Golden-brown hair framed a face that would make a Greek god jealous. Sid didn’t have to see the eyes to know specks of green and brown danced in their hazel depths. Those eyes had stolen her teenage heart long before the body caught up to its true potential.

  Maybe we’ll get lucky.

  Those words had played through her brain all freaking night. Combined with the memory of his fingers softly twirling her hair, it’s a wonder she’d gotten any sleep at all. Experience had proven that Lucas Dempsey would never be interested in a woman like Sid. His past girlfriends, at least the ones Sid knew, including Beth, shared a demure quality.

  Sid was about as demure as Anchor was big.

  “How’s Tom?” she asked.

  “Good,” he said, turning over the menu. “Mom says he’s driving the nurses crazy.”

  “Anybody else here yet?” She dropped her keys behind the bar.

  He didn’t look up. “Flynn’s out back approving the fish. Last I checked, Chip was chopping vegetables.”

  The tap tap tap of knife hitting cutting board confirmed his words. Sid poured herself a soda and waited to see if her new coworker would put down the menu and actually talk to her. He’d ignored her long enough. If they were going to work together, that stopped now.

  “Pretty sure the menu hasn’t changed in five years.” Leaving her glass on the bar, she started lowering the chairs.

  “So I see.” He finally glanced her way. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

  Sid looked down. “What’s wrong with this?”

  He tucked the menu under his arm. “Your shirt says ‘Mechanics Do It With Lube.’”

  His shirt should have said Captain Obvious. “Yeah. So?”

  “So you’re dealing with customers and that shirt is inappropriate. This is a family restaurant.”

  Sid slammed a chair onto all fours and crossed the space between them, stopping just under Lucas’s nose. “Let me make this clear. I’ll wear whatever the fuck I want to wear, and not you or anyone else is going to tell me I can’t. I’ve worked in here for years and your dad has never had a problem with my wardrobe.” She eyed him up and down. “At least I’m not dressed like a pansy.”

  He took a seat. “While I’m in charge of this business, I’ll decide what is and is not appropriate. And there will be no dropping of F-bombs in front of the customers.”

  If he kept this up, she would have no problem pretending not to have feelings for him.

  “You may be used to calling the shots in your other life, the boring one, but I’ve told you once, you’re not in charge of me. We both know you need me. If I walk out of here right now, not only are you screwed, but your mother will snatch a knot in your ass as soon as she hears. So I suggest you take your appropriate speech and shove it.”

  Satisfied she’d made her point, Sid did a one-eighty and headed back to the chairs. Inappropriate. She’d show him inappropriate.

  “A little old for this rebel teen act, don�
�t you think?”

  She froze, chair in midair. The man wanted to die. That was the only logical explanation. With great effort, she returned the chair gently to the table, then casually strolled back to the bar. Jaw locked, she climbed onto a stool, leaving an empty seat between them. For his safety.

  “You’ve got some alpha thing going on. I get it. If playing captain gets you through the day, that’s fine. If you need to do the man act to make up for shortcomings in other areas, go for it. But I’ve spent my entire life dealing with guys like you. And I can give just as good as I get.” She leaned forward, dropping a hand onto his knee. The hazel eyes darkened, but he didn’t move. Sid ignored the shot of heat that raced up her arm. “We’ve got six weeks. You want to make this a pissing contest, give it your best shot.”

  He leaned so close, she could feel his breath on her lips. “Move your hand a little higher, and you’ll know there are no shortcomings here.”

  Sid jerked back, the heat from his body still imprinted on her hand. Her heart beat double time, and she feared he’d see how tempted she was.

  “You wish, pretty boy.” Desperate for distance, she all but ran to the farthest tables and started dropping chairs two at a time. How did he manage to piss her off and still make her want to jump his bones? Jerk.

  The noise of tables scraping the floor mixed with the blood raging in her head meant Sid didn’t hear Lucas come up behind her until he whispered against her ear. “You just lost round one. I’ll expect more of a fight in round two.”

  Sid suppressed the urge to swing a chair in his direction. Arrogant jackass. He wanted a fight, he’d damn well get one. On her terms. By the time he’d lowered two chairs from the next table over, she had a plan.

  Keeping her voice casual, she said, “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is?”

  Four legs hit hardwood. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Tips.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up in a grin that made her toes curl. “I could show you some moves, but I never mix money and sex.”

  “How about you stop thinking with your dick for a minute.” That wiped the grin off his face. “Fifty dollars says I can earn more tips than you can. You up to the challenge?”

  He leaned on the chair and rubbed his chin. “Fifty dollars and all I have to do is make more tips than you? That’s too easy.”

  “A hundred.” She could take him and earn an extra hundred for the garage fund.

  “What kind of a man would take a hundred dollars from a lady?”

  “You see any ladies around here, twinkletoes?”

  He nodded. “Good point. Okay, I’m in. Joe and Beth will be here by six. We cut off tips at five thirty and start counting.” He headed toward the kitchen. “Then you can pay up.”

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “To grab one of the big pickle jars. I’m going to need it to store all my tips.”

  As he disappeared into the kitchen, Sid dropped another chair and mumbled, “Not if I shove that jar up your nose.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Lucas prided himself on being in shape. He ran three to five miles every day. Took the stairs at work. Ate his vegetables and took his vitamins. But he’d never been as tired as he was by three o’clock that afternoon.

  No wonder his dad had a heart attack. Running this bar for a day had Lucas ready to cry uncle. By the end of the week, he’d be in traction.

  Sid hadn’t even broken a sweat and she’d been covering a third of the floor. Much more ground than the small space behind the bar. Lucas didn’t know what it was about the woman that made him say the stupid shit he had that morning. Some men might make a habit of inviting women to check out their package, but Lucas wasn’t one of them.

  Still, he couldn’t say he regretted it. Not after seeing her reaction. Sid just begged to be teased, and heaven help him, Lucas enjoyed sparring with her. Maybe the next six weeks wouldn’t be as awful as he’d first thought.

  He figured she chose the station along the windows, which stayed full throughout the day thanks to a view of the water, to increase her earning potential. But traffic wasn’t the key to this contest. Courtesy and charisma, two qualities Sid clearly lacked, would win him an easy victory.

  Dollar bills filled Lucas’s pickle jar to the halfway mark by mid-afternoon, but how much Sid had tucked in her apron was a mystery. His suggestion they count when the action slowed between lunch and the early dinner crowd resulted in her suggestion he take a flying leap.

  The friendliest suggestion she’d made all day. Sid Navarro could make a sailor sound like a nun in comparison. If she hadn’t been blessed with the tongue of a viper, the termagant might actually be attractive. Her dark hair was once again pulled up in a ponytail, and he’d caught that whiff of watermelon again. He’d never have pegged her for the fruity shampoo type, but that scent reminded him there was a woman beneath those shapeless clothes.

  The T-shirt was obviously cut for a man, and the baggy shorts hit at knee level. The green high-top Converse should have made her look like a twelve-year-old boy, but the shapely olive-tone calves above them were unmistakably female.

  The woman was a walking contradiction, leaving him torn between anger and unexpected arousal throughout the day. Pushing her buttons had quickly become addicting. Watching her every thought flit across her face, he had a feeling she didn’t get flirted with often, since she had no idea how to flirt back. And though he could see she’d wanted to run every time he got close, she always held her ground and fired back.

  In fact, arguing with Sid gave him the same rush as entering a courtroom. Both required a clear head and quick thinking. Both made him feel more alive. From what he’d seen so far, Sid would prove a formidable opponent.

  “Jack and Coke, two sweet teas, and a Bud for table twelve. I got any appetizers up yet?” Sid asked, eyes on the stack of tickets in her hand. “Table ten is getting antsy.”

  “Nothing on the window right now,” he replied.

  Coffee-colored eyes met his. “You holding this shit up to mess with my tips?”

  “Darling,” he said, lifting his jar from under the counter. “As you can see, I don’t need to cheat to win this little challenge.”

  “What I see is a lawyer talking out his ass,” she mumbled, loud enough for him to hear but not the customer four stools down. “I’ll expect those drinks and the appetizers ready when I come back.” Sid grabbed a pitcher of tea and returned to the floor.

  Talking out his ass. If she wasn’t careful he’d make her wear the drinks when she came back.

  “So you’re the other Dempsey brother.” Lucas turned toward the feminine voice carrying a hint of New England. “Not quite what I expected.”

  He didn’t know what the slim brunette expected, but she didn’t sound disappointed. He took that as a good sign. Extending a hand, he said, “Lucas Dempsey. And you are?”

  “Will,” she replied, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear as she slid her tall frame onto a bar stool.

  “Not the name I’d expect with a face like that.” He leaned onto the bar, ignoring the half-filled glass of tea he’d been pouring. “Tell me that’s not short for Wilhelmina.”

  The woman gave a low chuckle and leaned in herself, bangle bracelets tapping mahogany. “Short for Willow. No one told me you were the charmer in the family. But then compared to Joe, a honey badger would seem charming.”

  A negative opinion of his brother. He liked her already. “Someone had to redeem the family name. What can I get you, Willow?”

  “I’m headed to my next job, but I have time for a soda. Tom always adds a shot of cherry.” She shifted on the bar stool. “Can you do that for me?”

  “One cherry soda for the pretty lady.” He was reaching for a glass when Sid slapped her tray on the bar.

  “Where are my drinks?”

  “You’ll have them in a second. I’m helping a customer here.” Lucas smiled at Willow, who was facing Sid.


  “Hey,” Willow said, “Beth mentioned you’d be covering here for a while. Must be better than baiting hooks all day.”

  “You two know each other?” Lucas asked.

  “Will lives on the island,” Sid said. “And she tends bar better than you do. Cut the kissy face and get me my drinks.”

  Lucas slid the cherry Coke to Willow, then wiped his hands on his towel to keep from wrapping them around Sid’s throat. “Keep your pants on, sweet cheeks. I’m working on them.”

  “Order up!” came a voice through the service window.

  “That’s your appetizers.” Lucas dropped the stuffed mushrooms and fried cheese sticks on Sid’s tray. “Take those out. I’ll have the drinks ready when you swing back around.”

  “Add two Millers and two diets for table fifteen. And don’t call me sweet cheeks again unless you want to lose the ability to reproduce.”

  Sid stomped off and he turned back to his new friend. “She’s a breath of fresh air, isn’t she? Where were we?”

  Willow stared back, wide-eyed. “She must really like you. Nobody would ever call Sid a name like that and live to tell the tale.”

  “I’m pretty sure she hates me, but I’m not taking it personally.” Trying not to anyway. “So where do you tend bar?”

  “O’Hagan’s,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “You two know each other well?”

  “Who, me and Sid?” He shrugged. “Not really. I mean I’ve known her since high school, but we never ran in the same circles. How long have you been on Anchor?”

  “Little less than a year.” Willow took a drink, then glanced over her shoulder again. She seemed oddly nervous about something. Before he could ask, she said, “Sid’s coming back.”

  Maybe there was something up between the two women. Sid was throwing so much animosity his way, he couldn’t tell if some of the current irritation might be aimed at the tall brunette or not.