Wingmen (Modern Love Story #2, 4, & bonus)

by Daisy Prescott

  “Are those motorcycle helmets?”

  “They are indeed. That’s your second clue.”

  Her face scrunched up into her puzzled expression I found adorable.

  “I’m all gross and not dressed appropriately for a bike ride.” She gestured to her black stretchy pants and tank under a light fleece hoodie.

  Shit. I hadn’t planned this out. “No jacket?”

  “No jacket. Only my hoodie.”

  “Well, drive home and I’ll follow you. We can start our adventure from the beach.”

  “Deal.”

  We strolled out to the parking lot behind the studio. She froze when she saw the motorcycle parked there.

  “Since when do you own a motorcycle?” she asked, stroking the seat of the bike.

  “I don’t. It’s Donnely’s. ‘74 Triumph Bonneville.”

  “It’s beautiful.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “I can’t wait!” She sprinted to her car a few spots away. “What are you waiting for? Last one to the beach is a rotten egg.”

  I fired up the bike and stashed the extra helmet before straddling the seat.

  I beat her back to the house by four minutes. As an island boy, I knew all the short cuts she didn’t.

  Her pout broke into a smile when she saw me leaning against the bike in her driveway.

  “Damn you!” After jumping down from the Jeep, she swatted at my arm. “You cheated.”

  “I didn’t cheat. I’m faster.

  Narrowing her eyes at me, she took in my body from my boots up over my jeans to the beat up leather jacket. “You look good on a bike. Is that a clue, too?”

  “Nah, I’m hot. Can’t help it.” I grinned at her. “Go change. Wear something warm.”

  Diane’s arms wrapped around my waist in a vise-grip. I kept telling her to loosen her grip, but every time I gunned the motor or took a curve fast, her arms tightened. Not that I complained. She felt amazing. The Triumph wasn’t a big bike and her thighs pressed tight against mine. Might have been one of the reasons I’d borrowed it.

  “You warm enough?” I asked when we stopped at a light.

  Her words were lost to the noise, but she gave me a thumbs up. I revved the engine and pushed off. We headed toward the Keystone ferry and the peninsula. I wondered when she’d figure out my plan and our destination.

  She hadn’t clued in after we boarded the ferry. Sitting in the sun on the deck while we crossed over to Port Townsend, we warmed ourselves with paper cups of coffee.

  “Still not telling me where you’re kidnapping me to?”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” I asked, nudging her leg with mine.

  Her huff said she wasn’t nearly as amused as I felt.

  “Don’t you like surprises?” I asked.

  “Not really. The last big surprise I had was finding out about Kip.”

  I growled at his name. “First rule of this adventure is no bringing up the asshole. Got it? Today’s supposed to be fun.”

  “Sorry,” she said, tucking her arm under mine and giving me a sheepish smile. “No assholes.”

  “Good.”

  “Do I get another clue?”

  “Sure. You’re on it.”

  “I’m on the clue?” She shifted her body weight into me while she attempted to peek underneath her ass.

  “Not literally. The ferry and where we’re headed are the clue.”

  Her lips twisted up into a sideways pout while she thought it over. “Okay, let’s review what we know so far. You picked me up from work. On a motorcycle. Now we’re on a boat to Port Townsend.”

  “Vintage motorcycle.”

  “Vintage motorcycle is important?”

  “It is.”

  “Okay.” She dragged out the word while her mind attempted to add things up.

  “No idea?”

  “None.”

  “You’ll figure it out soon enough.”

  “I kind of hate you at the moment.”

  “Why?” I was stricken with her words and sure it showed on my face.

  “Not real hate. Stop worrying. I’m having fun, like always, but I hate you know something and I don’t.”

  “I know lots of things you don’t. How to bait a hook or where the short cuts are between Langley and Sunlight Beach.” I grinned at her glowering.

  “Fine, but I’ll figure this out soon enough.”

  “Don’t ruin the fun. Enjoy the ride.”

  We disembarked first and headed away from downtown, up the hill. Passing through residential neighborhoods, I had a few doubts this would work out the way I’d hoped.

  When the sign for Fort Worden came into view, Diane gave my waist an extra squeeze, then let go to pat my shoulders in excitement. I pulled to a stop and her squealing rose above the quieting engine.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God! You didn’t!” She jumped off the back of the bike and took off her helmet before bouncing up and down.

  “You figured it out?” I grinned.

  “Vintage motorcycle, Port Townsend! You remembered!”

  I set the kickstand and leaned against the bike, smiling at her while I removed my helmet.

  “I can’t believe you remembered.” She gave me a full-fledged hug, nearly tipping the bike over when she leaned into me. “You’re giving me the Officer and a Gentleman tour! This is the best afternoon adventure ever!”

  I’d seen Diane smile the past few months—not nearly as often as I thought she should—but I’d yet to see her gleefully happy. The woman was gleeful. Downright about to lose her mind.

  “Want the tour?”

  “Will there be push-ups?”

  “Probably not.”

  “What if I beg?”

  “Maybe.”

  I settled the helmets and the bike before we headed off to see the gun batteries and buildings.

  “I think this is the first date in the history of dates that involves gun batteries.”

  “Who said this is a date?” I asked, my brain shutting off from surprise at her words.

  “No one.” Her smile faltered for a second before returning. “Date, afternoon adventure … who needs a label. I’m just saying what guy takes a girl to a place like this? No guys I know.”

  My brain worked again. “You know me. Date or not.”

  Did I want this to be a date? If I had, I suppressed what that meant. Good thing The Tides Inn wasn’t still part of the tour. What first date ended up at a dingy motel?

  This wasn’t a date I reminded myself.

  Diane’s hand found mine after she took off her gloves. Our fingers intertwined and she swung our arms back and forth.

  There wasn’t much to see around the fort, but the view out over the water was spectacular.

  After we climbed to the top of one of the gunneries, Diane brought up the push-ups again.

  “Is it because you can’t do push-ups that you don’t want to?” She baited me.

  I didn’t bite. “I can do them.”

  “There isn’t a physical reason you won’t indulge me? Just you being mean?”

  “I’m not being mean. I don’t want to do push-ups.”

  “What if I bribe you?”

  “With what?” I was definitely curious to hear her bribe.

  “Hmm … let me think of something good.”

  I stared at her while she stood there, tapping her finger on her lips and her left foot on the ground.

  “Stop staring at me. I can’t think,” she said.

  “Well? Did you come up with something?”

  “You are a difficult man to bribe. That’s what I’ve come up with.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “For one thing, money isn’t going to work with you. Neither are material things. Food might..” She paused, and her face lit up with an idea. “Fishing!”

  “Fishing?”

  “If you do push-ups and recreate my hot, young officer fantasies, I’ll go fishing with you.”

  “A few push-ups and you’ll go fishing with me?”

/>   “Yep. But I have conditions.”

  “What are these conditions?”

  “First, the fishing can’t be out in the open ocean. I need to be able to see land.”

  “Okay.” I nodded. Easy.

  “Second, you need to do the push-ups in your T-shirt. No flannel, no leather jacket.” She crossed her arms in confidence.

  “That’s it?” Her demands were simple enough, but a gleam appeared in her eyes which wasn’t there before.

  “That’s it.”

  “Okay. Push-ups for fishing. Deal.” I unzipped the jacket and tossed it on the ground. Next I unbuttoned my shirt and shrugged it off. “Good thing I wore a T-shirt today. Otherwise I would have had to do this bare-chested.” I figured out the gleam in her eye. It was lust.

  Her eyes snapped to my face from where they’d lingered over my biceps.

  “Damn it,” she cursed, making her hands into fists and shaking them.

  “Should have insisted on shirtless as one of your conditions. Just sayin’.”

  “Sometimes I hate you.”

  “You said that already today. You didn’t mean it before, and you don’t mean it now. How many push-ups are we talking about?”

  “How many can you do?”

  “We could be here all day.”

  She groaned low in her chest and mumbled something under her breath. “How about twenty?”

  “Twenty it is.”

  On the final few push-ups, I lifted my arm and did a few with one hand.

  “You’re trying to kill me,” Diane said when I bounced back up to standing.

  “You made the request. Don’t ask for what you can’t handle.”

  She handed me my flannel. “That was one of the hottest things I’ve seen in a while. Thank you.”

  “Me doing push-ups? We need to get you out more.”

  “Maybe, but I’m standing by it. Maybe it’s the location or the motorcycle, but yeah, hot. Not taking it back.”

  “Don’t take it back,” I said, stepping closer to her. She didn’t back away.

  “What’s next on the tour?”

  “Well, there’s the paper mill. Scenic as it is. Sadly the motel isn’t the same.”

  She blinked a few times. “Were you going to take me to a motel?”

  Shit. That didn’t come out the way it sounded. “No, not like that. I mean the motel from the movie.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment tinged her voice.

  “I was thinking more along the lines of food, drinks, maybe some pool, jukebox …” I felt awkward and scratched my beard near my ear.

  She took a beat or two before answering me. “Sure, yeah, no motel. Food, jukebox.”

  A short drive back into town and we walked into one of my favorite local places. It wasn’t a dive, but it wasn’t touristy either. Okay, so maybe it was a dive.

  “What’s good?” Diane asked, studying the menu.

  “Burgers. Fish and chips. Don’t get anything fancy.”

  “Got it. Burger for me.”

  “Beer?”

  “Sure. I could use something to warm up.”

  “Sorry about that. April isn’t the warmest around here.”

  “At least it isn’t raining.”

  “Bite your tongue.” I turned to survey the bar. “If you acknowledge the good weather, you’re asking for rain.”

  “Me talking about it won’t make it rain.”

  “You’ve done it now.” I grinned at her. “Hope you don’t mind it raining on the ride home.”

  She laughed at me, clearly not understanding the power of the jinx.

  “You’re kind of a superstitious guy,” she said.

  “How so?”

  “Controlling the weather for one.”

  “Not only me. Ask anyone around here.”

  “Do you have other superstitions?”

  I considered her question for a minute. “Some. Mostly to do with fishing, but you can blame my father and uncle for those. Handed down generation to generation. What about you?”

  “Superstitious? Maybe. I believe there are no coincidences. Everything kind of works out.”

  “In what way?”

  “Well, like today. I only had one class, so the whole afternoon was free and I ended up here with you.”

  “Okay. Not really seeing it.”

  “I’ll give you another one. I rented Maggie’s cabin and met you. If I hadn’t told Quinn and Dr. Gooding about my woes, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you with thoughts of push-ups dancing through my head.”

  “Everything’s connected?”

  She nodded. “It is. There’s a whole long list of things that had to happen for me to be sitting in this dive bar with you today.”

  “I’m glad you’re sitting here.”

  “Me too. More than you know.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I was very sad when I first got here.”

  “And now?”

  “I’m less sad. Getting the letter last weekend then finding a place called Deception Pass, it made all my sadness feel like the past.”

  “Good.” What else could I say? I was glad she wasn’t as blue as she had been.

  “Yeah, good. I have a job and a place to live. A car. And it’s all stuff I did on my own. Well, with the help of friends, but you get my point.”

  “You get by with the help of your friends.”

  “I try,” she said and smiled. “Hey, speaking of butchering lyrics, I see they have karaoke here in a couple of hours. We should stay. They have prizes.”

  “You sing?”

  “Terribly, but I do. You?”

  “What do you think?” I pretended to glare at her.

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s karaoke.”

  Something about her happiness and joy made me want to do things that gave her more of both.

  “You’re going first,” I said.

  A few hours later, people much drunker than us sang pop songs and country songs. I stopped after two beers, knowing we’d be on the bike later. Diane appeared pleasantly buzzed, but nowhere near drunk or even tipsy.

  As one of her weird ideas, we swore not to tell each other our songs. I flipped through the list and ruled out most of the songs until I found one I knew I could do justice.

  Her turn for karaoke arrived before mine.

  Diane walked up to the stage while I clapped and whistled for her. Blushing, she waved at me while her music cued up.

  When I recognized the opening notes, I cracked up. Never did I imagine Diane would pick “Hit Me with Your Best Shot” by Pat Benatar for her song. Not only did she know all the lyrics without reading the screen, but she had choreography to go with it, involving some punches and even a few kicks. It was the most hysterical and awesome thing I’d seen in a long time. The crowd, especially the guys, ate it up. This annoyed me, until I remembered she came with me and would be leaving with me.

  She bowed to the clapping and the cheers before making her way back to me. I stood up and hugged her. More to congratulate her than to mark my territory, but both worked.

  “That was sexy, Linus.” I smiled down at her, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

  “Glad you thought so.” She met my eyes and smiled back. “You better bring it if you want to beat me.”

  “Oh, I’m bringing it.”

  The two drunk girls finished their sloppy version of “Summer Nights” and my name was called.

  “Hold onto your heart,” I said with a wink.

  Diane clasped her hands over her heart before I turned to walk up on stage. Once there, I stood still and tucked my head down to study the monitor.

  When I began to sing, I kept my eyes cast down and my voice low during the first lyrics.

  Her laughter carried over the crowd when she figured out what song I was singing.

  Yeah. I rocked some Taylor Swift.

  At the chorus, I lifted my head and found Diane in the crowd. She stood next to our table, with a huge grin on her face. I smiled
back, nodding my head before continuing with my version of “You Belong to Me”.

  Throwing on the charm, I flirted with a few of the women near the stage, but I sang only for Diane. When the ladies clapped along, I went for it, singing the final chorus in falsetto.

  No one expected a big guy with a beard, wearing jeans and flannel, to rock the teen pop. That was my ace.

  I had to fight my way back to Diane through the groups of women with wandering hands, offering me congratulations. She was still standing there grinning when I reached her.

  “How was it?”

  She answered me by throwing her arms around my neck and jumping her legs around my hips.

  Did not see that coming.

  I wrapped my arms under her thighs so I could find my balance.

  “Does this mean you liked it?”

  She met my eyes and smiled. It wasn’t the grin she wore all through my performance. This was soft and intimate. “You have no idea,” she whispered.

  “Glad to hear it. Wanna get out of here?”

  “Yes,” she said, loosening her legs and sliding down. I would’ve carried her out, and frowned when her body warmth left me. “Now.”

  THE RIDE HOME was dark and much colder. I felt Diane shiver behind me and bury herself closer into my back. At least it wasn’t raining. Maybe she hadn’t jinxed us with her earlier words.

  A single raindrop hit my visor when we turned onto the main road from the ferry. Unfortunately, all of its friends followed it. By the time we approached the darkened Greenbank Store, there was no denying it was more than a mist. Jinxed.

  I pulled the bike off the road and we ran for the overhang of the store. Standing in the shadows next to the bagged ice freezer on the side of the building, I took off my helmet and brushed the rain from the back of my neck. Diane was dry on her front, but the back of her jacket appeared nearly soaked.

  After she took off her helmet and set it on the ground, I gave her a stern look. “See what I mean about not talking about the weather? Around here it can rain when the sun’s out.”

  Brushing the water off her jacket, she peered up at me with a sheepish smile. “Sorry. How long do you think we’ll have to wait it out?”

  I left the dry safety of the overhang to stare up at the fast moving clouds swirling above us. “Hard to say. Might turn back to being a mist. Might not.”