Meant to Be (7 page)

Beth tried to shake off her brush with Joe before reaching the bar. A long-lost memory came to mind. Five naive girls sitting around a college dorm talking about what they called the “spark factor.” The romantic notion that when the right guy came along, there should be fireworks and blinking neon signs.

In the brief second their bodies had touched, there were fireworks galore, and not of the minor sparkler variety. She got
zip
along with some
zing
and a
kapow
. Alarm bells echoed in her brain. Touching Lucas had never sent a light show dancing through her bloodstream. No bottle rockets. No Roman candles. Not even a hint of firepower.

She squashed her disloyal thoughts, focusing on her fiancé’s positive traits. Lucas made her smile. He was sweet and generous and took care of her. She never had to worry or solve a problem because Lucas handled everything. Just as her grandparents had done for most of her life. No question of where to go. Who to be.

That’s what she wanted. That’s where she felt safe.

Joe didn’t make her feel safe. Joe made her mad. Made her feel…unanchored. Ironic considering they were on Anchor Island. That zing stood as clear evidence Beth
needed an anchor. Or something just as heavy to smack her upside the head.

“This beer goes back to Sid in the pool room,” Tom said, sliding a longneck Beth’s way.

“Who’s Sid?” The name sounded vaguely familiar. Maybe Patty had mentioned him.

“Works with Joe. Just holler the name from the doorway.”

“Got it,” Beth said, dropping her now empty tray by her hip and carrying the bottle with her free hand. Sid sounded like a name that should belong to a large man. Shouldn’t be that hard to find.

When Beth entered the pool room, she glanced around for a man towering over the others but didn’t see one. “I’ve got a beer for Sid!” she yelled over the Buffett song pouring from the jukebox.

“That’s me,” came a female voice from Beth’s right. She turned and met dark brown eyes belonging to one of the most gorgeous women she’d ever seen.

The body belonged in a centerfold layout, but the clothes looked more like something from the agri co-op in the small farm town where Beth grew up.

Not a speck of makeup on her face, but she didn’t need it. Her skin was pale and flawless, eyelashes long without the aid of mascara, and lips Beth imagined sent men to their knees.

An instant feeling of inadequacy slid down Beth’s spine. “You’re Sid?” So much for making assumptions where names were concerned.

“That’s right, princess.” The brown eyes narrowed, and a dark ponytail flopped to one side as the woman stuck out
her hip and tilted her head. “You going to hand over that beer or do I have to wrestle you for it?”

That was uncalled for. What had Beth ever done to this woman? She’d definitely never met her, even if the name sounded familiar. No woman would forget the bombshell who made her feel as if she should hand in her girl card.

“Did you say wrestle me?” Beth asked. Though Sid’s head barely reached Beth’s nose, her rolled-up sleeves revealed well-muscled arms. For a woman anyway. Not that Beth intended to wrestle her for anything. She’d never been in a cat fight in her life and didn’t intend to change that fact now.

“For a lawyer, you sure are dense.” The woman invaded Beth’s space, slamming her pool cue down inches from Beth’s blistered toes.

The Band-Aids together with Aunty Claudine’s magical ointment were working so far, but she doubted they’d protect her against a solid stick of wood.

“Somebody needs to blow in your ear and give you a refill.”

While Beth processed that insult, a figure appeared on her left.

“Back off, Sid.” Joe moved in closer until his body stood between Beth and her aggressor. “She’s just bringing you a beer. Go back to your game.”

Sid let out a breath, staring hard into Joe’s eyes. Then she shook her head and said, “Rack ’em up boys, and get out your wallets.”

The standoff lasted several more seconds with the sound of pool balls being gathered on the table. When Sid turned
away, Beth saw Joe’s shoulders relax. Surely he wouldn’t have hit a woman.

“You okay?” he asked, taking the longneck she’d forgotten she was holding.

“I’m fine. What was that all about?”

“That’s Sid.”

“Yeah, I got that. Who is Sid, and how does she know I’m a lawyer? For that matter, why does she hate me?”

“She doesn’t hate you. She’s just…” He seemed to be searching for the right word.

“Bitchy?”

“That works.”

Beth glanced over Joe’s shoulder. Four men, all in denim and flannel (the clear island dress code), lingered around the table as Sid bent over to break. None of them were paying her body any attention.

“Why are those guys treating her like that?”

“Like what?” Joe turned toward the men in question.

“Like she’s one of them.”

“She
is
one of them.” If Joe’s face hadn’t been completely blank, Beth would have sworn he was messing with her.

“Come on, she’s gorgeous. Guys in Richmond would be drooling right now.”

Joe’s brows shot up, and he turned as if expecting to see someone new behind him. “Sid?”

“You’d have to be a eunuch not to see that.” Joe looked insulted by that insinuation. “You know what I mean. Who is she anyway?”

“She’s my boat mechanic. A pain in the ass, but she can fix anything you put in front of her.”

Beth couldn’t respond. She’d need to lift her jaw off the floor to do that.

“What?” Joe asked, looking perplexed again.

“
That
is your boat mechanic? You work with a woman Hugh Hefner would pay a million bucks for, yet you claim not to notice she’s the slightest bit attractive?” Beth pulled the tray to her now inferior-feeling chest and wrapped her arms around it. “Is that why you’re so cranky all the time?”

Joe’s mouth clamped shut and his eyes narrowed. “You’re out of your mind. Sid isn’t…” He trailed off as he looked again to the woman in question and got a straight shot of a well-shaped bottom. “You’re nuts,” he said, stomping out of the room.

Before Beth could follow behind him, he leaned back in to yell, “And I’m not cranky!”

Cranky my ass
, Joe thought. He was a happy guy. Maybe not in a dance-around-smiling-and-spreading-sunshine kind of way, but what goofy idiot wanted to do that? He didn’t have to take this shit. If he was cranky it was her fault. Nobody else pissed him off this easy.

“Hey, Joe!” shouted a voice behind him.

“What?” he yelled back as he swung around and just missed smacking a customer with his clearing tub.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” asked Phil Mohler. Another charter boat operator on the island, Phil was Joe’s least favorite competitor. They’d gone to high
school together, and even back then, the two hadn’t gotten along.

“Nothing. What do you want?” If he thought Joe would be running to get him a refill, Mohler would be waiting all damn night.

“Who’s the new chick, and what do you say I get an introduction?”

“What new chick?” Joe asked, looking around for a pretty tourist.

“The one you were just talking to back by the pool room. Haven’t seen a swing like that in way too long.” Phil elbowed Buddy Wilson sitting next to him, and the laughter carried round the table.

Crankiness turned to white-hot anger. “She’s off-limits, Mohler. Unless you want your ass flung out the door, you’ll keep your eyes and your comments to yourself.”

“Hey, man,” Phil said, throwing his hands in the air, “I didn’t know you were banging her already. Warn a guy next time.”

Joe dropped the tub on the table, knocking over three bottles. The men scrambled to avoid the rivers of beer. “That’s Lucas’s fiancée, and I said keep your comments to yourself.” His jaw clenched so tight, Joe could feel his teeth grinding. He’d rather grind Mohler’s face.

“What’s going on here, boys?” asked Joe’s dad, sliding up to the table with three longnecks and a bar rag. “Looks like we had an accident.”

“You need to teach your boy some manners, Dempsey. I just asked a simple question and he got all bent out of shape.” Mohler kept his eyes on Joe though he was talking to Tom.

Joe’s grip tightened on the tub. Hauling Mohler out of his chair in the middle of a crowded dining room wouldn’t be a good idea. Though it would feel damn good.

Tom dropped the rag on the table and leaned down into Phil’s face. “You know one of the perks of owning this place, Mohler? It’s that I can refuse service to anyone I want. I’ve replaced the beers you paid for. You intend to have any more tonight, you’ll have to buy them elsewhere.”

Silence loomed over the surrounding tables as Joe waited to see what Mohler would do. His face turned red, but he wasn’t brave enough to challenge Tom Dempsey. There was a reason the bar didn’t employ a bouncer.

They didn’t have to.

“Come on, boys. The air in here is starting to stink.”

Tom backed up far enough for the men to get up from the table and head for the door. As soon as they were out of earshot, he looked at Joe. “In the kitchen. Now.”

Shit.

Could his night get any fucking worse?

“What the hell are you doing out there? I have a full dining room and you’re trying to start a brawl?”

Joe crossed to the dishwasher and unloaded his tub. “I’m not an idiot. I wasn’t going to hit him.”

“You sure as hell wanted to,” Tom growled.

“Hell yeah, I wanted to. I’ve wanted to for years.” Though he’d always been able to ignore Mohler’s asshole ways before. “But I didn’t, so lay off.”

“You know he’s a prick. I don’t know why you let him get to you like that.”

“He said the wrong thing, that’s all.” Joe slammed two plates into the strainer, chipping the one in his right hand. “Fuck.”

“I’ve lost customers, I don’t need to lose my plates, too,” Tom said, sliding the tub away. “What did he say?”

“He said Beth has a nice ass, that’s what. I was defending Lucas’s fiancée’s honor, since he can’t be bothered to be here and do it himself.” Joe grabbed the tub and reached for two more plates, making an extra effort not to break them. “Anything else you want to know?”

When his dad remained silent, Joe turned to see his face. The look said everything Tom wasn’t about to say out loud. Joe dumped the last of the silverware in the soaking water and headed back to the floor.

T
he relief of connecting her bottom to a chair drew a long sigh from Beth. A hot bath would be better, but by the time this night was over she’d have enough energy to crawl into bed and nothing more. For now, sitting on the bench outside Dempsey’s would have to do.

The blisters she’d developed on her walk that morning were not happy about waiting tables. Turned out Aunty Claudine’s ointment went only so far. She’d been able to wear the slippers, which were really just terry-cloth flip-flops, back to the Dempsey house, where she’d followed Lola’s orders and soaked her feet in saltwater.

But the slippers weren’t appropriate for the restaurant, so she’d switched to Keds, figuring the soft material would be her best choice. She’d been wrong.

With the first shoe half-off, the pressure eased, but removing it completely would mean brushing the opening across the blister. After taking a few fortifying breaths, then holding one in, she jerked the Ked the rest of the way.

“Cotton picken’ fricken’ fracken’.”

“Is that your idea of cursing?” came a now familiar voice from her left. She looked up to find his eyes on her
foot. “What the hell did you do?” Joe reached the bench in two strides, taking her ankle in hand. “Are these from tonight?”

“No,” Beth hissed as Joe examined the bloody wound centimeters below her left pinky toe. “They’re from this morning. I wore new sandals to walk the island. Not my best idea.”

Joe sat down, then lowered her foot into his lap. Beth tried to pull away. “What are you—”

“Hold still, damn it. Why the hell’d you work the floor when you were hurt like this?”

“I had Band-Aids on them. I guess that one is still in the shoe.” The more Joe ran his hands along her foot and ankle, the more Beth squirmed. She felt as if she’d spiked a temperature, certain areas feeling more heated than others. “I’m fine, really. I came out here to put on new Band-Aids, and then I’ll clean them better when I get back to your parents’ house.”

Joe lifted her foot, stood, then gingerly lowered it down to where he’d been sitting. Returning to the entrance, he opened the door halfway and yelled, “Dad! We need the first aid kit.”

Beth smacked her forehead. Great. Now the whole place would be outside in seconds to see what had happened. “Did you have to do that?”

“Do what?” he asked, lifting her foot and taking a seat again. Beth ground her teeth and tried to keep her foot hovering half an inch above his thigh.

“Everyone is going to come out here to see what the emergency is. You couldn’t walk in and get the kit yourself?”
Before he could answer, she said, “Forget it. I’ll put on these Band-Aids and I’ll be fine.”

“The hell you will,” he said. “Bring the other foot up here.”

“Why?” she said, bracing herself to bolt. “The other foot is fine.” He cocked his head to one side and lifted a brow. Why couldn’t she be a better liar? “You’re insufferable, you know that?”