Love on the Rocks (2 page)

Decker raised his scotch.

“Here’s to being alive. For the most part, it beats the hell out of the alternative.” Her voice was soft, sincere and hit Decker hard in the chest, pushing the air from his lungs.

His hand shook and he set the glass down so hard, the liquid sloshed over on his hand. “I have to go.”

Roxi set her glass aside, a frown marring her smooth forehead. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

“No, you said the right thing.” He forced a fake smile and stood. “I just remembered I left my car running.” He fumbled in his wallet for a couple bills.

For a long moment, Roxi stared at him, her lips firming.

When he held out the money, she pushed it back at him. “It’s on the house.”

“I insist.” With his heart racing and the need to get out in the open almost a physical pain, he gripped her wrist and slapped the bills into her hand, ignoring the rush of electricity firing his nerves from where he touched her.

Roxi called to the town homeless man in the corner. “Saul, this is for you.” She slapped the bills on the bar as Decker turned to leave. “If you need someone to talk to about leaving your car running, I’m a good listener.”

Decker choked out, “I don’t need anyone.”

R
OXI WATCHED AS Decker left the bar without looking back, practically running for the door. He had been coming to the bar all summer, living only a half mile down the beach in a quaint little bungalow with a wide, covered porch overlooking the ocean. She’d seen him sitting and standing on the decking, staring out at the sea at all hours of the day and night, as if searching for something. Maybe himself.

He kept his rich, dark hair trimmed neatly and, from what Roxi could tell, Decker appeared to be a man who had it all together. Until she stared into those deep green eyes, shadowed with pain. Except for this night when he’d shown up with the cape’s local celebrity, thriller writer Kurt Remington, Decker usually sat alone and drank one scotch on the rocks, sometimes ordering food from the grill. Women tried to talk to him, only to be ignored or politely turned away.

Roxi couldn’t blame the women for hitting on him—the guy was incredibly good looking. But it was the haunted look in his green eyes that had touched something familiar inside. He’d experienced pain, something she could relate with. It drew her to him like metal to a magnet. All summer long, she’d fought the urge to be one of the women who tried to gain his attention to get him to notice her. He probably had enough of his own problems. He didn’t need a woman with the kind of baggage she carried. Still, he was the only man for whom she’d even remotely consider letting down her guard.

Roxi shrugged and went back to work cleaning the bar and restocking the coolers for the next day. The regular crowd had thinned until the last customers left promising to see her next summer.

“I’ve got this. Otis will be ready for his walk.” Frank Hamner, her grill cook took the bag of trash she’d gathered. “You look like you could use the walk yourself.”

She chuckled. “That bad?” Roxi touched a hand to her hair.

“You’ll always be as pretty as the day your mom and dad brought you home from the hospital. But tonight, you have that far away look you get when you sink back into bad places.”

“I’m not sinking into bad places.” She patted the cook’s face, her heart filled with love for the man who’d become the father she’d lost.

Frank covered her hand with his. “I wish I had been there for you. If I’d known you and your mom were in trouble…”

Roxi shook her head. “Mom was too proud to ask for help. And no one could have guessed something like that could happen.”

“I wish she had asked for help. For your sake.” The old retired drill sergeant, with the stern face and flat top hair cut might scare other people, but Roxi knew him for the kind and gentle soul who’d come along when she and her mother hit rock bottom. He’d brought them out to Cape Cod where he’d retired, and given Roxi a second chance at a life she never would have had in the dirty, dangerous streets of the Bronx where some mothers sold their children to feed their drug habit.

“What we can’t change, we learn from,” Roxi whispered her mother’s mantra.

Frank snorted. “What I’m afraid is that you didn’t learn the right things.”

Roxi pushed her shoulders back. “I’ve learned how to take care of myself.”

“Physically, but what about what’s here?” He tapped his hand to his chest.

She smiled at Frank. “I would have thought you of all people would think emotion makes a person too weak to fight.”

Frank shook his head. “Love gives a person a
reason
to fight—love for your family, your brothers in arms, hell, even your dog—without it, you have nothing.”

“You’re right. I love my family.” She kissed the old man’s grizzly face. “You. And I love Otis. I don’t need anyone else.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Says a man who lives alone.” Roxi set a chair upside down on a table and reached for another. “Have you ever been in love?”

“Yes,” Frank’s voice said quietly.

Roxi turned and stared at the man who’d been her father’s closest friend in the army. “Frank, were you married?”

He shook his head. “No, but I was in love.”

Roxi had a hard time picturing the gruff, army sergeant in love. But then he loved her and even had affection for Otis. “With whom?”

He hiked the bag of trash up off the floor. “It doesn’t matter now. She didn’t feel the same way about me.”

“Unrequited love.” Roxi snorted. “All the more reason to steer clear of that kind of love.”

“It’s hard to do when your heart won’t let go.”

“But she didn’t love you.” Roxi set another chair upside down on the table.

A shadow passed over Frank’s face. “I didn’t love her any less because of it.”

“So you wasted your life mooning over her and what did it buy you?”

He stared at her for a long moment. “You.”

When the one word sank in, Roxi’s heart squeezed so tightly, her eyes stung. “You loved my mother?”

He nodded. “But she loved your father—my friend.”

Roxi shook her head, the tears welling. “Oh, Frank…”

“Now don’t go getting misty-eyed over this old coot. I knew the stakes and I knew how much your mother loved your father and he loved her. I only wanted her to be happy.” He turned with the big bag of trash. “Enough about me. You need to get on with your life. Don’t waste it working yourself to death in this bar.” He turned back and gave her one of his sternest looks. “And don’t think you’re not worthy of love because of what happened. You have a lot to offer. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Still stunned by Frank’s revelation, she gave him a watery smile and popped a salute that would have made her father proud. “Yes, sir.”

His frown deepened. “And don’t call me sir. I work for a living.” Frank exited through the back door, carrying the bag.

With a lot on her mind, Roxi trudged up the steps to her apartment over the bar where she was greeted by a wiggling, happy Otis, the one hundred twenty pound German Shepherd Frank had given her when she’d moved out on her own, taking up residence over the bar. He’d been trained by one of Frank’s old Army buddies who’d been a dog handler in the military police.

Otis waited patiently while she snapped on his leash and picked up her heavy flashlight, the one she carried for protection, more than for illuminating her way. She rarely used it unless the night was cloudy. Roxi never felt in danger as long as Otis was around. Without him, she probably wouldn’t step outside in the dark.

Fortunately, the moon shone brightly and she could see as clearly as if it were the middle of the day.

She set out along the sand, unclipping Otis’s leash as soon as she passed the pier. Otis shot ahead, chasing waves along the shoreline. He loved the water and the beach as much as Roxi. He circled back behind her and chased a crab that ultimately buried itself in the wet sand. Not to be deterred, Otis dug into the sand, spewing it out behind him.

Roxi laughed and kept walking.

A figure detached itself from the stilts of a beach house ahead and walked across the sand to the edge of the water.

By size and the breadth of his shoulders, Roxi guessed the figure to be a man, and not just any man, but the one who’d been on her mind more and more with each passing day—John Decker.

Her heartbeat skittered against her ribs and she slowed to a stop, her bare toes curling in the wet sand.

Decker’s face remained turned toward the sea and he wore nothing but a pair of shorts or swim trunks. Moonlight glimmered off his naked chest, turning into a silvery blue. As he walked toward the water his pace increased until he ran into the surf lapping against the shore.

What was he doing? The tide report indicated the water wasn’t safe with the coming storm churning the sea.

Decker struck out, swimming hard out to sea. His arms sliced through the water, powering him farther away from shore, closer and closer to the area known for its wicked riptide.

“Decker!” Roxi ran toward the point at which he’d entered the water and waved. “Decker! Come back!”

Either he was ignoring her shouts or he couldn’t hear them with his head in the water, because he continued on his race toward a potentially deadly situation.

“Decker!” Roxi glanced to the right and left. The lifeguard towers were on the other side of the pier, too far to go for a life preserver.

Decker was too far out to hear her voice. If she could get close enough to warn him he might have a chance to turn around before he got sucked out even further by a riptide. Roxi waded into the water, her pulse pounding her stomach knotted. She was a good swimmer, having lived the last fourteen years on the cape. She knew how to ride the tide into shore, but even she wasn’t naive enough to swim in riptide situations.

Cupping her hands around her mouth, Roxi shouted again.

Decker’s arms slowed and he glided to a stop.

Roxi gathered another breath.

The dark head, now only a speck on the ocean disappeared.

“Decker?” she whispered, her heart lodged in her throat. Then she dove into the water and swam as hard as she’d ever swum toward the spot she’d last seen him. She pushed back all of the warnings Frank and her mother had drilled into her head as she rose on the swell of a small wave and scanned ahead.

There. A hundred yards ahead, she spied Decker’s dark head, drifting south, carried by the current.

Otis barked from the shoreline, the sound carrying out to where Roxi paused to breathe, her lungs burning with the need for oxygen. She drew in a deep breath and yelled, “Decker!” A wave slapped her in the face, and she sucked salt water into her lungs. For a moment she sputtered, coughing and fighting to keep her head above the water as she cleared her lungs. When she could breathe again, she searched for Decker’s dark head on the water’s surface.

The swells had increased, and she couldn’t see him. Treading water, she turned toward the shore where Otis danced along the water’s edge, barking furiously. Once again, she turned toward the open sea, but couldn’t find Decker. The tide was pulling her south, past the pier. If she didn’t start angling toward the shore, she might not make it back. Now the fight to find Decker became a struggle to save herself. If she could get to shore, she would send out a rescue boat to find Decker, which she should have done in the first place.

Forcing herself to remain calm she struck out toward shore, swimming with the current while cutting at a diagonal toward the shore. The tide pulled at her like hands gripping her legs, dragging her toward the open sea. She fought against its clutches, kicking as hard as she could to break away. It seemed that for every inch forward, she lost two, hauling her backward.

Her arms ached and the muscles in her legs burned. Roxi slowed and treaded water long enough to rest and catch her breath.

A figure surfaced beside her, startling her, but she was too tired to scream.

When she realized it was Decker, she almost cried in relief. Moonlight glistened off his wet hair, making it appear blue-black. His powerful shoulders rose above the surface as they bobbed with each swell.

“Don’t give up.” Decker grabbed her hand and pulled her against him with one arm, his free one stroking the water to keep them both afloat.

“I’m okay,” she insisted, not feeling okay, but unwilling to let him take on the burden of her, when she shouldn’t have swum after him in the first place. What had she been thinking? “I’m just resting before I swim again.”

“Let me know when you’re ready.” A wave splashed over them before he could continue. “We’ll make it to shore together.”

She nodded, the salty tang of water on her lips, a surge of hope fueling her tired muscles. Roxi kicked hard headed toward the sandy beach.

Decker paced her, silently swimming at her side, occasionally reaching out to pull her along.

Slowly, they edged toward land, and finally, Roxi’s toes encountered sand. She laughed as she staggered to her feet and slogged through knee-deep water toward a frantic Otis.

A strong arm slipped around her waist adding strength to her flagging reserves.

When they reached dry land, Roxi dropped to her knees on the gritty sand and rolled onto her back, completely drained of energy.

Otis licked her face, whining and shaking all over.

“Are you okay?” Decker knelt and leaned over her, peering into her face.

She forced her lips to curve upward. “I will be.”

“Good.” His brows dipped into a V and moonlight reflected off his eyes. “Then why the hell were you swimming alone this late at night?”