Flirting with Disaster (7 page)

"Who's the lucky lady?" She thought she was being cute, but I knew she was nosy.
 

"What lady?" I played stupid.
 

She held up the Styrofoam cup with the Diet Coke in it and sneered. "Not your usual tonic."
 

"I'm thirsty," I said, taking the cups from her. I'd already thrown a couple of dollars on the counter. I wasn't interested in small talk. "Keep the change."
 

I jumped into my truck, tucked the cups in the holders, and headed to Barbara's. I had more work to do.
 

It looked to be a gorgeous day. Blue sky with minimal clouds. It was heating up already; a sure sign summer would be here soon. I pulled up to the front of her place and parked curbside. I grabbed the cups, and then realized I'd need to juggle the drinks in one arm while unlocking the door with the other. It was early. Her car was there. Maybe I should knock.
 

I debated for only a moment when the door opened. She had her hair pulled back in a hairband. It opened up her face. Her skin was flawless, almost ivory in complexion. With her hair out of her face, her eyes caught my fancy. She twitched her nose, as if she was about to sneeze, then stopped.
 

"Ooh, sorry," she said with a laugh. “I was going to sneeze.”

"No problem. I got this for you," I said handing her the ice cold drink.
 

She looked at me as if I'd given her a Nobel Peace Prize. A soft “thank you” slipped out as she took the beverage.
 
It was just a drink, but she seemed touched. Had she lived such a cold life, nobody offering a gesture of kindness before?

"My pleasure," I answered and walked through the door. "I'm going to finish up some trim work, oh, and before I forget, my dad mentioned something about the lady who used to live here. He said she had a daughter. Are you Bobby-Jean?"
 

“Are
 
you Bobby-Jean?"
 

The question took me by surprise. His tone was nonchalant like it was no big deal. And he was certainly not mad or anything since he'd brought me a drink. He'd even remembered my poison of choice. I stared at him and became aware he was waiting for my answer.

"Yeah, my mother used to call me that," I confessed. He frowned at me as if trying to understand. Despite the fact I didn't owe him an explanation, I felt the need to explain. "I hated the nickname, you know. It still carries a lot of bad memories, so it's Barbara now."

He nodded slowly. "I see." He climbed a few steps and turned around. He looked as if he wanted to ask something but could not figure out how to formulate his question so I volunteered a bit more information.

"I wasn't trying to hide anything. If I had I would have stayed in the suite the company wanted to book for me in one of the casino hotels."

He thought about it for an instant. "Fair enough," he said before turning and climbing the stairs. As he entered the bathroom, I returned to the kitchen.
 

I prepared a marinade for the huge piece of meat I had purchased and went in search of the old barbecue. The garage was a mess but I found it, the old grill was all rusted. It was time for it to retire. I picked up my car keys and called out to Ryder, "I'm going out for a couple of errands, need anything?"

"Nope, all good," he said.
 

An hour later I was back with charcoal, a garden hose, shears, a new barbecue, two garden chairs and a mock rattan patio table half sticking out of the trunk.
 

Ryder was still upstairs. He had opened the window of the small room and was painting the ceiling, shirtless. Even from a distance, I could see he was in amazing shape. The vision was so distracting that I almost drove into his truck.
 

Good thing he had the radio loud enough not to hear me return. Bringing the furniture into my tiny front yard, I couldn't hear his voice but I saw his lips move. I knew that song. He and John Legend didn't want to brag but had to tell some lucky girl he was going to be "The Best You Ever Had."
   

That made me laugh. I started the fire, prepared a tomato salad and set up the table. He hadn't answered my text but I figured when lunch time came around chances were he wouldn't turn down a nice steak. I was right.
 

He came down to the garden a couple of minutes after I'd asked him if he wanted to share my lunch. Standing by the barbecue, I glanced at him as he stepped into the yard, relieved and disappointed to see his shirt was on.
 

One look at the meat and he stated, "I'll take care of that."
 

Funny how fire brings out the caveman in every single guy. Even those who wouldn't be caught dead cooking in a kitchen couldn’t fight the urge to come close and defy the flames.
 

"Absolutely," I said putting the fork down.

I sat and watched him turn the meat around in the marinade.

"How do you like your meat?" he asked.
 

"Very rare." My answer brought a smile to his face.
 

"Then that's gonna be quick then," he declared setting the thick steak on the grill. Closing my eyes, I listened to the sizzling sound and breathed in the delicious smoke. It smelled like summer.

When I opened my eyes again, Ryder was staring at me curiously. The intensity of his gaze made me feel strange, self conscious. I became painfully aware that with my hair pushed back, no make up, and my yoga pants, I was probably a far cry from the bombshells he usually spent his free time with.
 

But the pensive look on his face was not related to my looks but my identity. "Why didn't you tell my father?" he asked.
 

I sighed and searched for a way to answer his question as truthfully as possible. "I wanted us to have a clean start." He raised a questioning eyebrow. Right, this wasn't enough of an explanation.
 

I looked away from him and tried again. "I figured there was nothing to gain by bringing up the past. It would have made us both uneasy."
 

Sitting up straighter in my chair, I continued "I didn't want him to look at me as Bobby-Jean, the town drunk's bastard daughter." From the corner of my eye, I noticed him suddenly getting busy with the meat. I was pretty sure he had winced, confirming it was the way most people had thought about me at the time. "And then I didn't want him to fear I was on some sort of revenge mission. Of course, he did fire her, but it was the company's decision, not his. God knows he saved her sorry ass many times before he let her go."

I removed my hairband and put it in my pocket. Shaking my head to let my hair loose, I rubbed my temple. This conversation was painful. "I have no hidden agenda. When the factory closes, it will not be out of spite on my part."

Ryder didn't answer and flipped the steak turning it around to create a square grill pattern. It was about cooked if we were eating it rare. I went to the kitchen for fresh drinks and to take the garlic bread out of the oven. I was no longer sure it had been such a good idea to reopen the house. It would probably have been easier to stay at the hotel during the week and return to Manhattan on weekends driving opposite traffic.

But then, I wasn't sure of anything anymore. In the yard, Ryder sat at the table tossing the tomato salad looking very domestic. The smile he gave watching me come out with his beer and the bread was so genuine, it melted my heart a bit.
 

I smiled back at him and said, "Bon appétit."

I was never one to turn down a good steak. The invite was a nice gesture. I stepped in and manned the grill while Barbara headed inside to handle a few details. When she came out, I found myself glad for the company. I liked how she came clean with me, rather than try to sugarcoat the past. It made sense, not wanting a spotlight on her family's history.
 

I guess we both had things in our past that left us wounded. It looked like she picked herself up and made the best of it. Good for her. Her long hair held soft waves after she let it down. I tried to see the younger version of her, but couldn't place her. Sure the name – but not the face. Only her eyes held a clue to the girl she used to be.
 

I plated up the steaks and sat across from her. I found myself smiling more than I'd grown accustomed to. I wasn't sure why, but maybe being around here, doing things like cooking on a grill, painting a bathroom...anyway, it seemed almost natural to do the simple tasks. I felt domestic, which I enjoyed more than I expected. I wasn't in a hurry, but knew I wanted a family eventually. One day I'd find the right girl.
 

"So what brings you to town?" I dared her to tell me the truth. "My dad's been nervous about the visit."
 

"I'm just monitoring things for now. Do you mind if we find another topic? It's been a long week, and work is the last thing I want to think about," she said.

"Sure, sorry about that. How do you like being back in Ocean Crest? It hasn't changed much, huh? Well, I guess it depends on how long it's been since the last time you were here." I left it open for her to answer.
 

"It's been a while" was all she said.
 
She didn't want the attention on herself. "Tell me about the best place in town to grab a bite to eat."

"Well, if you keep serving up slabs of beef like this, I'd have to say it's here." I held her gaze.
 

She fluttered her eyelashes, and then looked down. Drawing her hair up with her hands, she pulled it back into a ponytail. After digging into her pocket, she pulled out a rubber band and tied it around her cascade of soft curls. "I don't mind having company, if you don't mind eating my cooking. I'm told I'm not too shabby."
 

"You're on, lady." I winked. "Anyway, the usual places, well, the ones still open. Everything is pretty much the same, well except for what closed.”

"Ocean Crest is a hidden gem," she said. "So close to the water, and yet nobody sees the value of this beach property. It's a shame it's gotten run down."
 

My eyes traced the curve of her jaw and followed down her neckline. I tried to stop myself, mind my manners, but my eyes trailed down. Her breasts rounded out her shirt nicely, a sweet slice of cleavage adding to the view. They begged to break free, to be touched. I quickly looked back up, but she was staring at me. Like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar, I simply grinned. "Sorry about that," I said, trying to find my manners.
 

"It's fine," she said. A blush filled her cheeks. She looked down at her plate and mindlessly moved the tomato salad around. I think it was more to avoid looking at me. Her ivory skin held a crimson glow. Maybe she liked that she caught me looking.

"Right, so how long will you be in town?" I wanted to change the topic, to take it off of the obvious.
 

"As long as it takes," she said. She still wouldn't look up at me.
 

It forced my hand. "I apologize, I shouldn't have..."

"No, it's okay. I'm just not used to the attention. I was hardly the homecoming queen. While your Friday nights were filled with dates and parties, mine were filled with books, or dealing with my mother's escapades." Her vulnerability spoke loud and clear.
 

They weren't the words I expected. I thought she might grill me for my lustful glances. I wasn't sure what to say to that. "You're a pretty girl. I'm sure you get plenty of dates these days."
 

She looked at me like I had two heads. Her tone was laced with sarcasm. "Yeah, okay, let's go with that."

"Sore subject," I said awkwardly. Barbara's shoulders drooped, her confidence sliding in front of me. I thought it was only fair to share something about myself. I pulled the first thing out of the hat I could come up with. "I've got a small dick."
 

She started laughing. She obviously hadn't anticipated such a random comment. "You do not. All the girls used to talk about you."
 

I grinned. The words spilled out of me faster than I could stop them. I wasn't much for sharing my feelings. "They did, huh? Okay, that's not true. I'm not saying it's massive, I'm just saying it can get the job done. Sorry, once again inappropriate. I thought it would make you laugh. I'm not so sure I picked up on all the manners my mother would have wanted. She died when I was younger. My dad tried, but you know, he was always at work. My brother and I pretty much raised ourselves. I guess you can relate to that. Sometimes, I realize how much I missed a comforting touch of reassurance from my mother. I can't even remember what her embrace feels like anymore."
 

She'd pursed her lips, as she thought about what to say. They were a soft ruby-pink, full, and kissable. "I'm sorry about your mother. I can relate. Even though my mother was alive, there were a lot of times I felt completely alone in the world. She tried sometimes, but given her life long addictive personality, alcohol always came first. I spent too many nights crying and wondering why she chose the booze over me. It was as if she was reaffirming what everyone at school had decided. I was unworthy of her time."
 

I reached across the table and placed my hand on top of hers. A small gesture of comfort I hoped helped her in the moment, as reaching back to her youth had left her open and wounded once again. I knew she wasn't the enemy; she was simply a woman trying to grasp at what straws she had left to hold onto. I pictured her in my arms, just to embrace her, to comfort us both, but I was afraid I'd send mixed signals. That was the last thing I wanted to do. It was important to draw a line between us, and keep it in the forefront of my mind that she might very well be the person to deal Ocean Crest a final blow.

Eyes set on Ryder's large hand resting on mine, I rambled on, revealing more about myself than I ever thought I would.