by Terri Osburn
She might be the least pretentious woman he’d ever met. Whatever tactics she planned to use to lure him into bed, sophistication and charm would not be among them.
Lucas hurried through the rain, locking the car on his way, then shuffled Sid through the door. A bell rang over their heads, causing him to look up. That same bell had been there during the summers he worked for Artie.
Further proof nothing ever changed on this island.
The reception window—still in the same place—slid open as they approached. “Well if it isn’t Lucas Dempsey, prodigal lawyer. Come to check out the old digs?”
“Something like that.” Movie posters lined walls that once held Artie’s framed college degrees—one from Georgetown, the other from Duke. Spending the majority of his career on Anchor Island had been a waste of both in Lucas’s opinion.
“Good to see you getting out and enjoying the island a bit. I remember you were always griping as a teen that there was nothing to do. Plenty to do around here these days.” Artie beamed through the window opening, as if he’d heard the conversation they’d had at the restaurant.
“What’s playing tonight, Artie?” Sid asked, pulling cash from her front pocket.
“I’ll get the tickets,” Lucas said.
“You paid for dinner. I’ll get the tickets.” She laid ten dollars on the counter.
“Tonight we’re showing one of my favorites. The Fugitive.” Artie slid the ten back Sid’s way. “The tickets are on the house. Thanks to you two I don’t have to run the movie for an empty theater. Hard to bring folks out on a rainy Wednesday night.”
Sid tried to argue, but Artie disappeared from the window and reappeared through the doorway to their left. “Come get yourself some popcorn and then take your seats. Show starts in five minutes.” He pulled the door wide, showing them into a large room full of couches of varying shapes and sizes. “Maybe we’ll get some other stragglers before then.”
Sid shot Lucas a challenging look as she spoke to Artie. “We don’t mind watching the movie alone.”
Sitting in a darkened room, on a couch, alone with Sid. His brain said not a good idea, but other parts of his anatomy were all for it.
“What kind of theater has couches instead of chairs?” Lucas asked. Theaters had seats. Individual, hard, uncomfortable seats. With protective and immovable arms between them.
“The welcoming kind,” Artie said, an innocent grin splitting his chubby face.
“You go grab our … uh … couch, Sid. I want to talk to Artie for a second.” Time to discuss the Ledbetter fiasco and nip this legal advice crap in the bud.
“Extra butter on your popcorn?” she asked, walking backward toward a large red popcorn machine.
“Yeah, thanks.” Turning to Artie he said, “I don’t appreciate you sending the Ledbetters to see me this morning.” Had it really only been this morning? From his inadvisable encounter with Sid on the beach to now felt more like a week had gone by.
“Aw,” Artie said, waving Lucas’s words away. “They just needed a mediator to help ’em work out that tree issue. I’m out of the business now, but I knew you could handle it.”
“Artie.” Lucas ran a hand through his hair, struggling to remain patient with his former boss. “I am on this island for one reason: to run my family’s restaurant while my dad recovers. I am not here to practice law, mediate tree issues, or take over your practice. And don’t think I don’t know that’s what you’re up to.”
The lawyer cum theater owner looked wounded, revealing acting skills that would have been priceless when applied in a courtroom. “I object to your accusation.”
Clearly you could take the man out of the lawyering but not the lawyering out of the man.
“Object all you like, but I’m on to you, Arthur Berkowitz.” Lucas pointed a finger at the opposing counselor’s chest. “Don’t send anyone else to see me about a legal matter. I practice in Richmond, not here.”
“But your license to practice in Virginia is good here too,” Artie pointed out, unfazed by Lucas’s stern tone. The man was being obtuse on purpose.
“Irrelevant. Let it go, Artie. I’m not moving back here.”
But if I did, I could have Sid.
That disturbing thought took him by such surprise, Lucas actually stepped back, bumping into the fake fern behind him. Where in the hell did his brain get off throwing that kind of bullshit into the ether? And no he could not have Sid. He didn’t even want Sid. The woman would have him jumping off a pier into shark-infested waters within hours.
“You all right there, Lucas? You look like you’re having a stroke.”
Lucas wasn’t sure what the symptoms of a stroke might be, but if sudden loss of sanity was one, he could definitely be in trouble.
Shaking his head as if to eject the crazy thoughts out his ears, Lucas stepped forward again. “I’m fine. Sugar rush from the cheesecake I had at the marina.”
Right. Sugar was doing this to his system. He looked to his left and spotted Sid leaning over the back of a cushy, red leather sofa, watching him with a look that made him feel like he should have been on the dessert menu. Damn woman.
“Just remember what I said, Artie.” He walked into the theater, tempted to claim a couch of his own. But that would reveal a weakness that Sid would no doubt pounce on until she had him moaning against that hot little body of hers.
Be strong, Dempsey. That way madness lies.
When Lucas finally joined her on the red sofa, Sid had no idea what to do next. She’d been talking big all night. Talking big had been her specialty for years. And in most cases, she could back it up with action. But in this moment, she was totally out of her element.
Sid had never seduced anyone. In fact, she could count her sexual encounters on one hand and still have three fingers left over. The dating pool wasn’t deep on Anchor. Most of the males on the island saw Sid as one of the guys, which never bothered her. Much. Unless they made some joke about her liking other women. She’d punched men for lesser transgressions.
As for the tourists, they hit on her often enough, but a fling with a stranger didn’t appeal. Which she supposed made Lucas and Will correct on the casual thing. So Sid didn’t change bed partners like changing her socks. She didn’t have sex just for the sake of having it. So what?
A fling with Lucas would be different. For one thing, he wasn’t a stranger. And though he’d never again live on the island, he had ties here. He’d be back. Seeing him once or a twice a year would suck, but that had always sucked. She’d survived this long. She’d survive again.
And as Will put it, he’d be out of her system. She could get on with her life without this unrequited thing hanging over her head.
“Where do we get the drinks?” Lucas asked, setting his bag of popcorn on the table in front of the couch. Artie had collected every unwanted couch and coffee table he could find on the island to furnish the place. Gave a nice home theater vibe. Sid hoped it would lead Lucas to forget they were in a public place.
“There’s a fridge back that way, near the bathrooms.” Sid pointed toward a hallway to their right. “Just leave a dollar in the honor box next to it. I’ll take a bottle of water.” Her stomach tended to make strange noises when she drank soda late at night. Would not be good trying to get cozy with Lucas in the dark only to have him think an alien might burst through her belly button.
With a nod, her date—which was more fun to say than she’d admit—headed for the hallway. Just as he disappeared around the corner, a shrill voice echoed from the back of the room.
“Sidney Navarro? Is that you?”
Shit damn fuck. Not Crystal Casternack. Not tonight.
“Aw, are you here by yourself?” The slender blonde gave a knowing smile to her minions, Heather Ledbetter, who had the misfortune of looking just like her dad, and Lissa Whitmore, the most clueless twit to ever graduate from Anchor High.
Why couldn’t Lucas’s prom date have put on a hundred pounds and grown a mole? On
her chin? That sprouted long black hairs?
“Now that we’re here, you can pretend you came with friends.”
Sid would rather drop a couch on Crystal’s head. No jury would convict her. “I’m not alone, Casterhack, but thanks.”
Prom queen’s jaw tensed. “That’s Casternack.”
“Right. My bad.” Sid hunkered down deeper into the couch, thinking of all the ways she could turn Crystal and her chicklets into fish bait. No one would ever find the bodies.
A second later, the dimmed sconces on the walls went out and the sixty-inch flat screen at the front of the room came to life. Halfway through the first trailer, Lucas returned to the couch, nearly tripping over the coffee table and landing on the cushion beside her with an oomph.
“Holy shit. Why didn’t you warn me how dark this place would get?”
Shushing noises came from the couch beside them. Thanks to Artie’s penchant for a totally black theater, Lucas’s identity remained a mystery to the three bimbettes.
“Who is that?” Leaning forward, Lucas tried to see who was beside them. Of course the screen went bright white in that moment, increasing visibility.
“Lucas Dempsey, is that you?”
Sid gritted her teeth until her jaw ached. She longed to make Crystal’s jaw ache.
“This is Lucas. Who are you?”
“It’s Crystal, silly?” Blondie said, as if they’d been chatting on the phone just last week. Sid snagged her water from Lucas and resisted the urge to accidentally douse the next couch with it.
“Crystal?” Lucas’s seeming confusion won bonus points from Sid. With fewer than ten people in his graduating class, how hard could it be to remember the chick he took to prom? He had to be playing stupid.
“Casternack!” Without an invitation, the blonde pranced over, inserting herself between Sid and Lucas. “I haven’t seen you in forever. You look great.”
Sid leaned around the interloper to see one perfectly manicured nail on Lucas’s knee. Oh, hell no.
“Excuse me,” Sid said, tapping Crystal on the shoulder with much less force than she could have. The blonde turned around, rubbing the spot where Sid had poked. “Lucas and I are here to watch the movie. Get your skinny ass back on your own couch.”
Crystal’s head spun toward Lucas, back to Sid, then back to Lucas. Maybe the thing would spin right off and improve everyone’s night.
“You two are together?” Without waiting for an answer, she went on. “Is someone paying you to take her out?” she asked Lucas.
Sid reached out to grab a handful of hair, but Lucas caught her wrist before contact. “I stopped taking payment for dates after the prom,” he said, sounding more put out than Sid expected. And what did that last crack mean? Had someone paid him to take Crystal to the prom?
This night was looking up.
Crystal leapt to her feet. “I see you’re still the pompous ass you always were. Thinking you’re better than the rest of us.”
“And you’re still as hateful and self-centered as I remember. Now if you could honor Sid’s more than polite request and return your …” He looked to Sid. “How did you put it?”
“Skinny ass,” she said, smiling as the warm spot in her chest spread to her knees.
“Right.” Back to Crystal he said, “Your skinny ass back to your own couch.”
By this point he’d gone from holding Sid’s wrist in midair to holding her hand on the couch between them. Sid felt like giggling. Something she never, ever did.
Crystal huffed. Stomped. Squealed. And finally returned to her couch. The minions were whispering reassurances, but Sid couldn’t have cared less. She looked over to find Lucas smiling at her, still holding her hand, slumped down in the overstuffed red leather sofa.
Best. Date. Ever.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lucas knew he should feel bad, but Crystal Casternack had made his life miserable in high school, stalking him in the halls, telling everyone they were getting married and she’d be the pampered wife of a powerful lawyer. They’d never even gone out on a date. He’d only taken her to prom because Crystal’s mom kept calling his mom about it. Desperate to end the torture, Tom gave him a hundred bucks to bite the bullet and take one for the team, as he’d put it.
As a result, Lucas’s prom had sucked. Not that guys cared much about that stuff, and with only four girls total in his graduating class, there wasn’t a large number of other dates to choose from. All the others were spoken for by the time he asked Crystal.
But none of that was cause for him to be so rude to her all these years later. The way she’d talked about Sid was what sent him over the edge. As if any man would have to be paid to go out with Sid Navarro. Grant it, she could be brash at times. Okay, all the time. But she had her moments. Like when she smiled the way she had after he sent Crystal stomping back to her friends.
She’d looked happy, surprised, and grateful with that one adoring look. The adoring part made him nervous. The way she’d sprinkled the sex comments into their dinner conversation, he’d begun to believe maybe a casual fling could work. Then he saw that look. But she hadn’t clung to him through the movie. Didn’t protest when he let her hand go to open his drink, then didn’t take it back again.
No pressure. No sign she was going all gooey on him. Then again, Sid was likely incapable of going gooey over anything. Maybe he’d just imagined the look.
They’d enjoyed the movie in silence, then waited until Crystal and her friends had gone before moving toward the exit. Other than telling Artie good night, neither had spoken since before the movie started.
“Thank you,” Sid said, staring out the passenger window into the falling rain, her expression unreadable.
“You’re welcome,” he said, out of reflex. After a moment of silence he asked, “For what?”
Sid turned his way, brown eyes serious. “You didn’t tell Casterhack in there that this isn’t a real date.”
Lucas shrugged one shoulder. “We went to dinner and a movie, right?”
“Yeah. But not because you wanted to go.”
“Says who?”
“Said you.” She went back to staring out the window. This was a side of Sid he wasn’t sure how to handle.
“This may not have been my idea, but I had fun. Great food. The most comfortable theater seat I’ve ever experienced.” He elbowed her softly. “And the company wasn’t bad either. I mean, you have your moments.”
Like this one. The spitting, cursing, challenging Sid he knew what to do with. Softer Sid was an enigma wrapped in a centerfold threatening his peace of mind.
“Careful, you might woo me with your romantic words.” She grinned his way, the vulnerable look gone. “Did someone really pay you to take her to the prom?”
He cringed. “You caught that, huh?”
“I’m quick like that.”
Crystal had suffered enough for one night. “Let’s hold that story for another day.”
“Fine. Keep your secrets.” Sid grew quiet again, which made Lucas nervous.
Quiet meant she could be plotting something diabolical. “You okay over there?”
“Just thinking.” Before he could toss off a witty retort to that she said, “No cracks, preppy. I was thinking since you were a good sport tonight, I should cut you a break and not bother you anymore.”
Not what he expected. And surprisingly not what he wanted. “So you’re forfeiting the challenge?”
She turned to face him while leaning back against the door. “What challenge? We didn’t make a bet tonight.”
“Yes, we did. You said you could show me a good time on this island.” He might live to regret his next statement, but in spite of his better judgment, Lucas wanted to spend more time with her. “You’ve got five weeks to do it.”
Narrowed eyes pinned him in place. He said the one thing he knew would push her to agree. “Unless you want to give up now. I wouldn’t blame you.”
“You’re going down, Dempsey. I hope you’re u
p to the challenge.”
Such a predictable woman. “Bring it on, Navarro. Bring. It. On.”
Still floating on the high of her date, Sid took a full minute to wake up enough the next morning to register the deluge of water pounding against her cottage. A brush of heavy rain from a far-off-the-coast hurricane was typical for Anchor, but the amount of standing water in her backyard was not. Maybe Ingrid was getting closer than they’d expected.
Sid switched on the radio in her bathroom, which was always tuned to WANK radio, the voice of Anchor Island. The call letters were unfortunate, but fitting.
“It’s not looking good, folks. All tourists should leave the island today. Ingrid is expected to be a cat two when she slides by less than seventy-five miles off shore.” Hermie Dash, an Anchor native and avid storm watcher, sounded almost gleeful as he reported the update. “The brunt should be here around three a.m. tomorrow morning if she holds the current course.”
“Hundred mile per hour winds,” she said aloud. “Shit.”
Sid checked the landline and got a dial tone. At least they hadn’t lost service yet. A quick punch of two buttons and the tone turned to a ring.
“Did you hear?” Beth asked, forgoing the typical greeting.
“Just now. Is Joe getting the boat up?”
“Left fifteen minutes ago. I’m lining up help to board up the art store, and the volunteer fire squad should be working on Tom and Patty’s house before noon. They’ll need a hand up at the restaurant.”
The last thing Tom needed on his second day home was a damn hurricane. He needed no stress, not a bitch of a storm threatening his home and business. “Mr. D’s not going, is he?”
“He’s trying, but Patty will duct tape him to the floor before she’ll let that happen.”
“I’ll help her,” Sid said. “Lucas headed in then?”
“I think so.” The line went quiet and Sid feared Beth knew about her non-date turned pseudo-date with Lucas. “Sid, I’m scared. I’ve never been through a hurricane before.”
Remembering her first experience the year after moving to the island, Sid understood Beth’s fear. But she’d dealt with Mother Nature often enough since then to know they were in no severe danger from a category two storm.