“No,” he said, backing out of the parking spot and turning onto the street. The windshield wipers tried to clear his view. “We’ll pick it up tonight.”
He felt her face him as he waited to get onto the highway. “I want to have it now.”
“Sorry.” There was a brief opening in the traffic and he took his chance.
“Hunter!”
“We’re going to the beach.”
“What? I have to go to work!”
“I phoned the cart and Calli’s doing fine. She’s quite a kid. She says she can manage. She called Terri in to help her.”
“The Coast Guard placed a huge order. The girls can’t watch both windows and get extra drinks made!”
“Calli says she can.”
“She’s sixteen!”
“How old were you when you worked after school and weekends at the hardware store?”
They were passing Safeway and he kept his eyes on the road. It was now almost eight o’clock and the morning rush was on. She made a sound of impatience as the sight of the store disappeared behind them.
“Hunter, I don’t have time to go to the beach. And neither do you.” She waved a hand impatiently at the rain outside. “And look at the weather!”
“I spoke with Nate before I came for you. I have the day off. And Oregonians don’t let the weather prevent them from doing what they want to do.”
“Well, aren’t you efficient. That’s fine when you’re organizing your day, but this is mine. I have to go to work.”
“It’s now our day. You invited me into it, so it’s no longer just yours to organize. Think you can deal with that?”
She let her head fall back against the headrest. “Great. I wish I had dumped the watermelons. I could be doing hard time by now.”
“Good,” he said. “A sense of humor is good. Just relax. You need a break.”
“Hunter, I don’t want to spend the day with you.”
“Then, why did you call me?”
“I told you. Bobbie’s out of town, and I’m not speaking to my mother. And I thought you’d just take me back to my car.”
“That’s what you get for presuming. Have you had breakfast?”
“No. I picked up some chips and cookies, but...I never got to...check out.”
He heard a crack in her voice and glanced at her. Her eyes were wide and hurt and—seldom seen in her—fearful. “I have to go to work,” she pleaded.
“No,” he said, comfortable at taking over. “We’re going to breakfast.”
“If I don’t have something to do...” She caught the shoulder of his sweatshirt. “I...I’ll fall apart.”
“You’re entitled.” He removed her hand from his shoulder and brought it to his lips. “You’re exhausted, you’ve been dealt a hard blow, and you’re so used to always being in charge that you don’t know how to react from just your gut.”
She sank wearily against the back of her seat. “I did that today. I was screaming like a madwoman. And there were apples all over the floor of Safeway as a result.”
“I’m sure everyone will survive that.”
“I hate that I lost it like that.”
“He probably expected you to be angry.”
“I was horrible.”
Hunter laughed lightly. “You’re often horrible and we’re all still here.”
She began to cry as he pulled into the almost full parking lot of the Pig ’N Pancake. He parked in the back, turned off the motor and pushed the seat back as far as he could. Then he turned to her and beckoned her to him.
He’d been prepared to have to reach for her, not certain she’d want to cooperate with an offer of comfort, but she flew into his arms despite the cup holders and console. He drew her close, settled her into the tight space, and held her while she wept out the shocking morning.
He rubbed her back and told her quietly that everything would be all right.
She clung to his neck with one arm, and he could feel her other arm wedged between them, her hand in a fist.
“I hate him!” she sobbed. “How can it ever be all right?”
“You hate him now. But I know it’s going to be all right because you always find a way to make things happen that don’t seem possible at first.”
“But...when I saw him...” She stopped to cough and sniff. “All I could think about was...how good it was to see his face. How much I...used to love him.”
“If you can admit that to yourself,” he suggested gently, “it’s something to build on.”
“I can’t.”
“Then there might be another way to make it work.”
“I don’t want it to work.”
“But...if he and your mom are back together...”
She raised her head off his shoulder, her tear-filled eyes roving his face. “How do you know they’re back together?”
He should tell her the truth, that he’d seen and talked to them and had known for a few days that her father was in town, but he couldn’t contribute to her considerable pain at the moment, and, selfishly, he didn’t want anything to move her soft, pliant body from his.
“You told me your mom was staying with him,” he replied easily. “Remember?”
She thought a moment, then dropped her head back to his shoulder. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell me he was home.”
He had to tread carefully here. “I’m guessing she wanted to settle the issue between her and your dad before she could bring you into it.”
“Why? It’s not like I still live at home.”
“You’re still their daughter. What happens between them affects you.”
She sat up and swiped at her eyes, apparently done with crying over what had happened. “Well, that’s for sure. Right now, I could cheerfully disown both of them.”
He gave her hip a gentle slap. “Let’s go. You need food.”
She looked into his eyes, focused on him. “You came when I called you.”
“You needed me.”
A furrow formed between her eyebrows. “I’ve needed you all along. But you got so angry about the check...”
“That’s because then you just wanted me to fit into a plan you’d made for how your life should go. When you phoned me this morning, you were...” He touched a finger just above her breasts in the pink T-shirt. “This woman, needing this man...” He indicated himself with his thumb. “Because you were hurting. I’ll always be here for you that way.”
* * *
SANDY, EMOTIONALLY BEATEN by her encounter with her father, winced as Hunter poured salt on her wounds with his admission that he could offer solace but never love. He was so good at being a friend she kept forgetting that was all he offered. Her emotions had been in hiding before he’d arrived in her life, and his kindness had made her feel safe, made her want more.
Inevitably, though, the reality of his careful distance surfaced to slap her down. It was as though a booming, unseen voice reminded her, Not for you, Cassandra. Never for you.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I HAVE TO CALL your mother.” Sandy had finished a full order of Swedish pancakes with lingonberry butter, and dug in her purse for her cell phone. Food made her functional, if not necessarily better. “She has my girls. I should let her know where I am.”
Hunter downed the last of a glass of orange juice. They’d been seated in a quiet corner of the restaurant, but the midmorning coffee break rush was now working toward them, table by table. He pulled out his wallet. “Okay. I’ll wait for you at the door.”
“Hi, Stella. It’s Sandy.” She reached for the last few sips of her coffee while Stella exclaimed at the sound of her voice.
“Sandy, I’m so glad you’re all right! I heard you’d gone up the river, were in the big house, were get
ting tattoos on your knuckles!” Stella paused for breath and said more seriously, “Your mom told me what happened. Where are you?”
Why was her mother able to tell everyone else what was happening and bypass her own daughter?
“Hunter picked me up,” Sandy replied. “He took me to breakfast, and now insists we’re going to the beach.”
“Well, you should take the day off. Just try to put all worries aside and...let the ocean renew you.”
She tried to imagine what would renew her. There wasn’t much.
“Sandy, try to remember that children don’t always know what goes on with their parents. Give them some latitude.”
She’d like to give them both whatever latitude ran through Abu Dhabi.
“I have a repairman coming at four this afternoon, so I’ll pick up the girls and take them to my house. I’ll fix dinner for all of us, how would that be? So when the two of you are finished with your day, just drive over to my place and you won’t have to do a thing but drink a little wine and eat. The girls will be fine. I bought the new Planes movie related to the Cars thing. Should be good.”
“Thank you, Stella.”
“It’s what I do. See you tonight.”
Sandy put her phone in her purse and walked over to the counter where Hunter was accepting a plastic bag from the clerk. He handed the bag to Sandy as he went to the door and held it open for her. In a small vestibule with a bench and an ATM, Sandy put her purse down and reached into the bag. She pulled out a soft purple hooded sweatshirt with Astoria emblazoned on it in white.
She wanted to scold him for being kind, but that didn’t make sense and she was too heartbroken, anyway. “Thank you,” she said simply.
“It’ll be chilly at the beach.” He pointed out the window at the gray clouds. “You’ve had goose bumps on your arms since I picked you up.”
She ripped the tags off the sweatshirt and put her arms inside the sleeves. When she emerged from the neck, he was studying her.
The man she was dealing with today was a little different from the Hunter she knew. This one had taken charge. That rankled a little until she considered what it could mean. She thought his feelings went deeper than even he realized. A friend indulged. A lover protected.
* * *
SEASIDE WAS AN old community that had had a funky carnival atmosphere just a few years ago. The main street had been lined with souvenir shops, vendors of elephant ear pastries, curly fries and slushies. There had been arcades with air rifles and scores of games to keep a child busy for an entire day. She remembered spending Saturdays here with Charlie, enjoying the beach and the arcades.
Seaside’s popularity as the Northwest’s beachfront vacation spot eventually brought high-rise hotels that made the main street feel like a canyon. More elegant restaurants now replaced the vendors, and the souvenir shops had given way to boutiques and antiques stores. The world’s largest amateur volleyball tournament was held here, and other events brought visitors from all over the Northwest.
Sandy supposed it was all a natural evolution of commerce, but she missed the Coney Island atmosphere she’d once enjoyed.
Hunter parked in a commercial lot behind the main street. The rain had stopped, but the sky was the same gunmetal gray as the ocean, and the air was cool. He locked the car and came around to take her hand. “You feel warm enough? Should we buy you a jacket?”
“Thanks, but I’m fine.” She forced herself to surface from the day’s tensions. “Where are we going?”
“To walk along the Promenade. Check out the arcades. Drive the cars. Ride the Tilt-A-Whirl. But maybe save that until breakfast is digested.” He squeezed the hand he held. “I know it isn’t going to make you feel better, but it’ll give you something else to think about until your brain and your body restore themselves and you can plot a course of action.” He pointed toward the busy street. “What’ll we do first?”
“The arcade? I used to be great at Whac-a-Mole.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
The arcade was cavernous, with various games all over the space. Despite the weather, Seaside was filled with tourists enjoying the silly diversions. It was noisy and wildly kinetic, children running and jumping and shouting to one another, while parents abandoned all effort at control and simply stood back to watch. Hunter went to a cage at the back to buy the tickets that allowed play.
He handed her the Whac-a-Mole mallet. The game consisted of a series of holes through which “moles” popped up to challenge the player to strike them with the mallet and make them disappear, only to pop up again somewhere else. Sandy took the mallet in hand and waited for the first mole.
* * *
HUNTER WATCHED SANDY dispatch mole after mole with impressive skill and a serious expression. She had taken her hair down and combed it before going into the restaurant, and it now gleamed like red silk under the overhead fluorescent lights. It fell over her face as she whacked, and she tossed it back, taking a breath and aiming again.
He knew things weren’t so simple, but he guessed she was working out the morning’s demons as she struck at the evasive moles with power and vengeance in a way real civilized life didn’t allow.
When the game was over, she played a second time. After that, she handed the mallet to a boy waiting behind her, dusted off her hands and turned to Hunter with a smile. He handed her the purse she’d asked him to hold and moved on to the air rifles.
“I supposed you’re a good shot,” she said, putting her purse down between her feet. “Having been in Iraq and all.”
“Well, I got the training,” he said, handing the attendant their tickets and picking up a rifle. “But, I rode a desk for 18 months, so I haven’t had a lot of experience firing a gun. And an M4 carbine is a lot different from this.”
“No hunting experience?”
“No. You?”
“No. So we’re on a level playing field. A sort of ‘primal man against woman’ thing.” She challenged him with a sideways glance. “Let’s see whether you’re really better equipped to kill a mastodon than I would have been.”
“That’s not really a level field. You could have argued it to death.”
She tried to turn her rifle on him, but the air hose wasn’t long enough to allow it. “Wisenheimer. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
He raised the rifle to his shoulder, aimed and did a credible job of eliminating ducks, geese and many of the other critters that followed them across the target. He hit about seventy-five percent.
“All right! Not bad.” Sandy applauded him while he took a bow.
“I believe that would have felled a mastodon,” he said.
She raised an eyebrow to take issue with his statement. “A quarter of your shots missed.”
He shrugged that off. “Well, yeah, but a mastodon is a bigger target than a duck. The shots that missed the duck would have probably hit the mastodon.”
“Hmm.” She sounded doubtful.
He leaned closer to watch her shoot. She lowered the rifle and turned to push him several feet back. “Don’t want you to get messy,” she said with a superior, playful tilt of her chin. “You know, mastodon blood-spatter and all.”
Rolling his eyes, he suggested, “Maybe we should make a wager before you begin.”
She frowned. “I had to pay for a cab to pick up milk and deliver it to the coffee cart while I languished in jail.”
“Such drama. Okay, not a money wager.” The thin, bewhiskered man behind the counter now leaned his elbows on it and watched them with interest.
“What, then?”
“You choose.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You know what you can afford to lose.”
“Big talk,” she said. “All right, I want a kiss. Not a peck on the cheek, or a friendly buss on the lips. A kiss. A real, serious, kiss.”
&nb
sp; So. High stakes. She was deliberately challenging his resistance to a long-term relationship. “How does the wager work, exactly?”
“If I win,” she said, “I get a kiss. A real kiss. If you win, you can have whatever you want.”
All right. He had this sewn up. He shook her hand.
She shouldered the rifle, the target began to move and she veritably air-slaughtered everything that moved past her line of sight. When the targets came again, she got them again. Hunter listened in amazement as the dinging that indicated a hit filled the air with continuous sound, and she racked up a perfect score.
The man behind the counter bowed to her as she replaced the rifle, and gave Hunter an envious look. She told him to hand her prize to the boys standing behind her. Then she turned to Hunter with a straight face.
“I don’t think I’ve told you about my three years in the Rifle Club at Portland State.” She hooked her arm in his and walked him out onto the sidewalk.
“The Rifle...?”
She waved a hand dismissively. “I guess it never came up.”
“And you forgot to mention it just now when we were discussing our experience with guns?”
“Oh, that would have sounded like bragging, and you know how reticent I am about...”
“Yeah. Reticent.”
The rain had abated, though a mist hung in the air. It felt as though they were trapped in a cloud.
She faced him and smiled guilelessly. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t commit you to anything because I know we’re done as far as lifelong love and all that, but...I want this kiss. Someday, when you change your mind and get married to someone else and the girls are living their own lives and I’m still putting on fund-raisers, I’d like to remember what it was like.”
He glanced about. They had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and tourists and locals hurried around them, giving them smiles or raised eyebrows.
“You’re okay with right here?”
Love Me Forever Page 13