Switched At Birth

by Christine Rimmer

  Coco shoved the door wide and announced, “Mommy says dinner’s ready. It’s lasagna and Eliz—I mean Madison, you’re invited.”

  Madison jumped up. “I would love to have lasagna at your house.” And then she sent him a look that dared him to come up with some reason she shouldn’t go.

  Not a chance. Karin was matchmaking and Coco was starstruck. And Madison seemed more than willing to go with the flow. Who was he to say no? “Well, all right, then.” He stood, too.

  “Hurry up,” said Coco, getting bossy now things were going her way. “Mommy says right now.”

  * * *

  Madison loved the house next door. It was as open and welcoming as the cottage, but a lot bigger, with comfortable furniture that invited a person to relax and stay awhile.

  Both floors had full kitchens and large living areas, with tall windows framing the beach and the ocean. There were three bedrooms upstairs and four bedrooms down.

  She met Otto Larson. Sten’s father was tall and lean, with a slight potbelly, thinning sandy hair and a lived-in face. “Pleased to meet you,” he said in a shy, courtly way, taking her hand and pressing it between his two leathery paws.

  Karin Killigan had wild dark hair like Coco’s, a warm smile and just enough of a snarky attitude to make Madison feel at home.

  They ate in the downstairs kitchen. As they shoveled in the pasta, yummy garlic bread and green salad, Coco told a rambling story about falling down at recess. “I had to go the nurse’s office and get two Band-Aids to make it all better,” she finished breathlessly, rising from the table and rolling up her jeans to show them off. The Band-Aids in question were bright yellow and neon pink, respectively, one on each scratched-up little knee.

  Benjamin discussed his latest school science project and the book he’d decided to write about the life cycle of the razor clam. “Razor clams are highly sensitive to vibrations,” he explained. “They can tell when a predator is coming just from that—the vibrations in the sand. Razor clams have very muscular feet and can propel themselves up or down in the sand to escape an attack. My book will have illustrations. I will draw them myself. I think it’s going to be quite good, I really do.”

  Madison asked, “Have you ever eaten a razor clam?”

  “Of course. They grow big here, not like the skinny ones on the East Coast. We get them with clam guns.”

  Karin laughed. “Not what you’re thinking. A clam gun is actually a big piece of PVC pipe with a handle. You wiggle the pipe into the sand and bring up the clam inside the pipe.”

  “You should go razor clamming, Madison,” said Ben. “You can come with us Saturday.”

  “Yes!” Coco clapped her little hands. “Madison, you have to come.”

  “It’s not far,” coaxed Karin.

  Madison slid a glance at Sten, who was seated to her left, to see if he was going to try to convince her that going clamming with his family was a bad idea.

  He surprised her. “You’ll love it,” he said. And then he just kept looking at her. She gazed right back at him and never wanted to look away.

  “We go at low tide,” Ben announced. “Saturday, that will be at 5:57 p.m. But we want to get there two hours before the tide is lowest, so we leave in the afternoon.”

  “And it’s really fun,” Coco put in. “Except sometimes it’s cold and it takes too long and I always have to promise I won’t be a baby.”

  From down at one end of the table, Otto added quietly, with considerable dry humor, “We all go, together. Sten, too. I do hope you’ll join us, Madison.”

  Reluctantly, Madison broke the hold of the mutual eye-seduction she and Sten had going on. “I would love to go clamming on Saturday.”

  “You’ll need a license,” said Ben. “You can get one online and print the receipt to use for Saturday. The real license will come in the mail.”

  That sounded complicated. “How about if I just observe?”

  “Yes, you can,” declared Ben.

  After dinner, Ben wandered off to his room and Karin reminded Coco it was time for her bath.

  “I know. I’m going—Madison, thank you for having dinner at my house.”

  “Thank you for inviting me. I had a wonderful time.”

  “Saturday, I will bring Spot it! and my rubber band ring kit. We can stay in the truck and play if we get all cold and tired.”

  “I would love that.”

  Coco gazed up at her, hesitating, before throwing shyness to the wind and grabbing her around the waist in a hug. For a sweet span of seconds, the little girl held on tight. And then she broke away and ran off toward the bedrooms.

  Karin leaned close and whispered in Madison’s ear, “My daughter’s got a big crush on you.”

  “It’s mutual, I promise you.”

  * * *

  It was still early when Sten walked her back to her house.

  “Saturday, then.” he said, when they reached the glass door that led into the kitchen. “We’ll leave at three. Wear something you don’t mind getting wet and covered with sand. Got rain boots?” When she shook her head, he said that Karin probably had a pair she could use.

  “Great.” She’d spent a few hours with him, max. But she already knew that look on his face. He was preparing to make his escape. She caught his hand.

  “Madison, I...”

  She silenced him with a finger to her lips and then pulled him inside.

  “What?” he asked, as she slid the door shut.

  She simply stared up at him. His eyelashes were so thick and dark and his eyes said he really did like her—but he wasn’t sure that was wise.

  He asked, “So, do you know how to get in touch with the Bravos?”

  Still holding his hand, she stepped right in close, took his other hand, too, and twined their fingers together. He smelled so good, like wood shavings and cloves—and what had he just asked her?

  Right. The Bravos and how to contact them. “I have phone numbers and addresses for all of them—and for the two elderly Valentines, Percy and Daffodil, as well.”

  “They’re good people. You should just give one of them a call.”

  “I told you. I’m not there yet.” And she wasn’t letting him go yet, either. Slowly, each move careful and deliberate, she guided his hands to her waist. When he didn’t pull back, she eased her fingers free of his hold, lifted her hands and pressed her palms to his chest. He was so warm. Even through his shirt, she felt the lean strength of him. “I like you, Sten. I like you a lot.”

  He frowned, and she just knew he was going to retreat. She steeled herself to accept that. But then he said, “You smell like the best things. Like petunias.” He bent close. She tipped her head to the side, encouraging him, and shivered in anticipation as his nose grazed the side of her throat. “And roses and lemongrass, starch and sunshine...”

  “It’s my perfume,” she said on a silly little hitch of breath.

  He chuckled. And he brushed those sexy lips, up and down, right where his nose had been. “All that goodness is just perfume?”

  Greatest. Moment. Ever. If only it would never have to end. “Well, maybe not the starch and sunshine part. I’m not sure where that comes from.”

  “I give.” He pressed the words into her skin using those wonderful lips of his.

  He gave what?

  She didn’t really understand what he meant—and truthfully, she didn’t care. Not as long as he kept holding her, kept touching her in this tempting, perfect way. She pressed herself closer with a happy sigh.

  And he lifted one hand from her waist. Before she could demand that he put it back where she’d so deliberately placed it, he cupped her chin and tipped up her face to him. His eyes were low now, lazy. Slumberous. “Can’t resist.”

  That sounded really good. “Can’t resist...what?”

  “You.” He dipped his
head closer.

  She surged up to meet him. “Sten.” She kissed him.

  And he kissed her back, all slow and gentle and just what she needed. She slid her arms up the solid shape of him and twined them around his neck.

  Oh, it was everything. Kissing him was the best.

  And it only got better, got deeper and wetter. Not quite so gentle, but all the more exciting. She eased her fingers up into his hair and closed the tiny distance between their bodies, pressing herself all along the length of him, loving the feel of him, lean and hard where she was soft.

  But too soon, he was lifting that beautiful mouth away. “Pick one.”

  What was he talking about now? “One what?”

  “A Bravo. Any Bravo.”

  “How many ways can I say it? I’m not ready yet.” She trailed a finger along the sculpted line of his jaw, enjoying the silky prickle of his beard scruff. “Want to spend the night?”

  He seemed bemused. “You are too tempting.”

  She looked at him sideways then. “That’s no answer.”

  “It’s a fact. I am tempted.”

  “So then, what you mean is no.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you’re thinking it. Because I’m a virgin and that makes it awkward and probably messy and who needs that?”

  “Madison.” He said her name so sternly. A muscle in his jaw twitched with tension. “We hardly know each other.”

  “So?” She stepped back. Now they were facing off. The air seemed to crackle in the empty space between them. “People have sex all the time without knowing each other.”

  “You don’t.”

  For a moment, she could almost regret telling him that she’d never had sex with anyone—but no. If she ever did have sex with a man, at the very least it would be a man she could say anything to. “What about you?” she challenged. “Ever had sex with a stranger?”

  He actually smiled at that. “Okay. Yeah. I’ve had my share of casual hookups.”

  She took a guess. “But not anymore?”

  He kind of nodded and shrugged simultaneously. “I got to that point most people reach, I think. That point where I wanted more. I wanted the one. I really thought I’d found her. We were together for two years, but it didn’t work out.”

  “You still miss her.” Oh, why did that make her stomach clench and her heart feel suddenly shrunken and sad?

  “No.” He said it too strongly. “I don’t miss her. Not anymore.”

  “You’re bitter, then?”

  “Not bitter, just...” He seemed at a loss for the right word. She waited him out. And finally, he finished with, “I’m cautious. Once burned and all that.”

  “And you haven’t been with anyone, not since whoever-she-was?”

  “No. I haven’t.”

  “And you don’t want to be with anyone?” she dared to ask.

  The silence was deafening.

  Okay, he didn’t want to spend the night. He didn’t want to answer questions. And he didn’t want to talk about whoever-she-was. Fair enough.

  Madison took the two steps to the door. “In case you’ve been wondering, yes, I did break the chain in the toilet to get you to come over here.”

  “Madison.” He shook his head, but he was grinning again. Like she was just so cute and amusing.

  Frankly, he was pissing her off. “People pretty much assume that when I’m not pretending to be someone else for way more money than such foolishness could possibly be worth, I lie around on a velvet couch waiting for someone to peel me a grape. And those people are not entirely wrong. I do have a great job, overall. I also make a lot of money and my people take care of me. But when I was a little girl, I lived on ranches all over the West. My dad—and I don’t care that it’s turned out he was no blood relation to me. He was my dad.” Out of nowhere, her throat clutched and her eyes blurred with unwelcome tears.

  She blinked those damn tears away. “He was the kind of dad who thought I was the most amazing little girl in the whole, wide world. My dad was a ranch foreman and all-around handyman. I was his ‘assistant.’” She air-quoted that for him. “I had my own little pink toolbox and he taught me how to fix just about anything that might break around the house.”

  “Madison, I—”

  “Don’t.” She gazed at him steadily, annoyed with him, but at the same time, finding real pleasure in the lovely pull of heat and energy between them. “Let it alone for tonight.” She pulled open the slider. The breeze from the ocean blew in, fresh and moist with a hint of salt spray. “I’ll be over Saturday. At three.”

  * * *

  A half hour later, Karin joined Sten out on the upper-level deck. “You’re back early.”

  “What? You timed me?”

  “Sheesh. Only thirty-one, and already a crabby old man. What’s up? Did you blow it with Madison?”

  He leaned his head back and stared at the clouds as they skidded across the moon. “Yeah. A little.”

  “Stennie. There is no ‘a little.’ You either blew it or you didn’t.”

  “Okay, fine. I blew it.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, come on. Where’s it gonna go?”

  “You’ll certainly never find out with an attitude like that.”

  “Karin. I don’t want to talk about it. I mean that. Leave it alone.”

  “Fine. We won’t talk about it.” With a long sigh, she settled back. “But take a tip from Scarlett O’Hara.”

  He was not going to ask what the hell she meant by that. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

  She reached across and patted his arm. “Tomorrow really is another day.”

  * * *

  The next morning early, Sten drove to the two-bedroom starter home he’d closed on a few weeks ago. The drywall guys were hard at work. Things were moving along well. From there, he stopped in at the Boatworks, where his dad and Karin had everything under control.

  Back at home, he went down to his workshop and finished up a few small projects he’d put aside earlier for larger ones. He worked outside, with the door open, shirtless.

  Because it was a nice day.

  And okay, yeah, maybe he was hoping to glance up at the cottage next door and see a pretty woman in a big hat with his own binoculars trained on him.

  Didn’t happen.

  At noon, he put his tools away and went inside. He had a shower, pulled on clean jeans and a T-shirt and wandered out to the kitchen, where he opened the fridge and then stood there staring into it.

  Nothing inside held any appeal.

  And the house was too damn quiet, with Karin and his dad at the Boatworks, and both of the kids at school.

  Was she even at the cottage right now?

  Had to be. She’d said she was reluctant to go out for fear someone might recognize her.

  Wasn’t she getting tired of that, of being stranded in the house?

  At least tomorrow, she’d get out for a while—she had said she was coming clamming with them.

  Hadn’t she?

  Yeah. She’d promised she would be over Saturday as she showed him the door.

  Really, he should check on her, see if there was anything she needed, anything he could get for her...

  * * *

  The house phone rang as Madison was standing at the sink spooning blueberry yogurt into her mouth.

  Sten?

  Who else would be calling on the house phone?

  It rang a second time as she exulted in the high probability that it was him.

  On the third ring, she set the yogurt on the counter and went to answer. “Yes?”

  “Just checking on you.”

  She dropped to the sofa. “Why? You afraid I’m misbehaving?”

  “If you are, can I come over?”

  She
stretched out, stuck a pillow under her head and gloated at the ceiling. “Actually, I just might be getting a little bit stir-crazy...”

  “Not surprising. You’ve been in that house for, what, a week now?”

  “Just about. And I need groceries. Maybe you could help me with that?”

  “By...?”

  “You could drive me to the store.”

  “But what if someone recognizes you?”

  “They won’t. I’ll go in disguise.”

  * * *

  “Who are you and what have you done with my tenant?” Sten teased when Madison answered the door in a short red-brown wig and the dark glasses he’d found in the sand and returned to her.

  She made a pouty face. “I miss my big hat. Where are we going?”

  “Safeway?” he suggested, and then realized she probably expected to go somewhere that only sold free-range chicken, organic produce and homeopathic headache remedies. “Sorry, you’ll have to go almost to Portland to find a Whole Foods. But there’s a great co-op in Astoria. We could try that.”

  “Are you kidding? Safeway is perfect. It’s been over a decade since I went to a Safeway.”

  She cracked him up. “I’m so glad Safeway excites you.”

  She whacked him on the arm with the back of her hand, just like Karin would have done. “Knock it off with the hipster irony. It will be an adventure. Get with the program.”

  On the way to the store, she decided they needed a contingency plan. “Just in case someone recognizes me.”

  “Why am I certain you’ve already got that worked out?”

  She turned his way slowly, dipped her head and gave him a look over the top of her enormous shades. “Because I do.”

  The plan was simple. If things got dicey, she would turn to him and announce that she’d forgotten something in another aisle and then run off in search of it. Meanwhile, he would keep whoever had recognized her busy while she hustled out of the store. As soon as the coast was clear, he would meet her at the truck.

  “So then, you’re counting on me to somehow keep whoever knows it’s you from running after you when you suddenly take off.”

  She sent him one of those irresistible smiles. “Yep. I’m trusting you to think on your feet. I know you won’t let me down.”