Second Chance (6 page)

NINE

Seven o’clock came too fast.

Elle had returned home from her walk with a mess of emotions. She felt better, more centered, after breathing in the ocean and the island atmosphere, but she was anxious about the dinner date. She wondered if she should’ve said no to dinner, just so he knew nothing was going any further than real estate talk. She couldn’t deny that seeing him had stirred up old feelings, but she also knew that she wouldn’t get sucked in by nostalgia.

One broken heart was enough.

She shook her head. Who was she kidding? He was the one who’d ended things. He wasn’t interested in anything but a free meal.

She showered, threw on the one sundress she’d packed, and took the loaf of bread out of the oven. She set it on the counter, inhaling the fresh-baked goodness of it. She wiped down the kitchen table and set it with plates and silverware, then pulled out two frozen hamburger patties from the fridge, lettuce for a salad and several red potatoes. She cut the potatoes, set them on a small cooking sheet and basted them with olive oil and sprinkled them with seasonings. She slid the sheet into the oven, then stepped outside onto the back deck.

Elle uncovered the grill and breathed a sigh of relief that it still looked intact. She brushed the metal grill and said a silent prayer as she turned the dial on the propane tank. She heard the gas hiss into the line and she punched the ignitor. The fire roared to life beneath the grill and she smiled and closed the top.

The eastern sky moved from blue to indigo as the sun ebbed further away. Birds lurked on the shoreline, hunting for an early dinner. A couple walked slowly at the water’s edge, holding hands.

She and Cash had been that couple. Lots of walks on the beach at night. Lots of kissing in the sand. Other, more intimate things down near the pier. She’d thought they’d last forever.

He, however, hadn’t shared those same thoughts.

She shook herself out of her reverie. Dinner, she reminded herself. This is just dinner. She headed back inside to finish preparing their meal.

The doorbell chimed right at seven as it set off butterflies in her stomach.

“Real estate,” she said as she walked to the door. “This is about real estate.”

She opened the door and felt her breath leave her the same way it had when she’d spotted him earlier in the ocean.

His hair was still damp, but swept back and away from his face. He had on a white cotton button-down, several buttons opened at the neck, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Navy shorts hung to his knees and he wore brown leather sandals on his feet.

He held up a six-pack of Pacifico. “This used to be your favorite. Still work?”

He was the first person she’d ever had a beer with. She remembered sitting on the beach with him, passing the stolen beer bottle back and forth. Cash’s dad had never missed it.

“It still works.”

She stepped aside so he could come in, trying not to breathe in too deeply as the smell of his familiar sandalwood soap drifted by. She remembered laying her head on his bare chest, inhaling that same scent.

Real estate
, she silently chanted again.

She followed him into the kitchen. He pulled two beers from the six pack, slid the remaining four into the fridge and fished for an opener in one of the drawers.

“Make yourself at home,” she said, more amused than annoyed.

He chuckled and handed her the first opened bottle. “Sorry. It’s hot. I’m thirsty.”

She took the beer. “Thanks.”

He opened the other, then held it up and raised an eyebrow. “Should we toast or something? To old friends?”

She took a long drink from her bottle, then stared at him. “No. I’m good.”

The eyebrow settled and he nodded, properly chagrined. “Fair enough.”

Wow. First, she’d stood up to her mother and now she was holding her ground with Cash.

This isn’t so hard
.

“I smell bread,” he said, looking around the kitchen, his eyes zeroing in on the plump loaf on the counter.

“That’s not what we’re having. Burgers are alright?” she asked. “With potatoes and salad?”

His eyes widened. “Uh, I don’t eat meat anymore.”

Her heart sank and she tried to think of what was in the fridge. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. Alright. I think there are some other things I could put together. What about…”

And then she realized he was laughing.

“You really think I’d give up meat?” he asked, grinning at her. “Really?”

She tried to hold back her smile. “You ass.”

“And, yes,” he said, nodding. “I’m still an ass, too.”

She shook her head. “Hope you like sand in your meat.”

He set the beer down on the counter and grabbed the plate with the patties. “I insist on doing the grilling. To protect myself.”

He was out the door before she could object.

Maddening. Cash was absolutely maddening. He’d invited himself over for dinner, she’d agreed and now he was doing the cooking, not even letting her play the role of good hostess.

She followed him out to the deck. “You know, I’m capable of grilling a couple of hamburgers.”

He dropped them on the grill, the sizzle hissing through the air. “I know.”

“So, you could let me. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but this is my house.”

He closed the top on the grill. “First, it’s your grandmother’s house. And second, you threatened to make me a sandburger. I’m just concerned for my own safety.”

She shook her head, but couldn’t keep herself from laughing. She had to admit she missed these conversations. The banter was easy. The teasing. The playfulness. There was no effort. It was just
…there. Just like it had been twelve years ago.

He sat down at the wrought-iron bistro table on the small brick patio in her grandmother’s back yard. The iron chairs and table were rusty; they needed a good cleaning. She sat in the chair next to him, drinking her beer, and looked around. She’d glanced at the yard frequently as she puttered around the house yesterday, but she hadn’t ventured outside for more than a cursory look.

The picket fence in front of the house wrapped all the way around the yard. Her grandmother had loved to garden and her backyard was mostly that—a garden. The rose bushes that lined the perimeter were in full bloom, a riot of pinks and yellows and reds. Their fragrant scent hung suspended over them in the thick, humid air. There were other plants blooming, too. Black-eyed susans, she thought, and dahlias. Geraniums. Daisies. She knew the names from time spent with her grandmother but she knew she couldn’t identify them.

A bee bumbled by and she waved it away. Butterflies flitted from flower to flower and hummingbirds hovered, their wings on overdrive as they navigated the backyard. In the center of the garden was a small, rock-lined pond and she thought she saw a frog dart between the crevices. Growing up, it had been her favorite spot in the backyard. The water was green, filled with algae, and she knew the first thing she’d be doing was cleaning that.

“It’s really beautiful back here,” Cash said. He’d slipped back inside to grab his beer and, after a quick check of the burgers, resumed his position in the chair.

Elle nodded. “It needs to be weeded.” She shuddered at the thought. Her gardening skills were meager, at best. Knowing her, she’d pull more plants than actual weeds.

“Yeah, but that should be easy enough, right?”

“Um. Sure.”

He smiled. “Not a gardener?”

She shook her head vehemently. “No.”

“I wasn’t sure,” he said, taking a swig from his bottle. “You know, since now you’re this bake-from-scratch kind of person. Didn’t know what other changes there might be after a decade of not seeing you.”

A lot, she thought. There were a lot of things that had changed. And he’d been the reason why.

“I don’t garden.”

He nodded. “Yeah, me, neither.”

She hid her smile by taking another sip of beer. “No?”

He jumped up and lifted the top of the grill. He flipped the burgers. “No. Kinda hard to garden when you don’t have one.”

She realized then that she didn’t know where he lived. She didn’t really know anything about him, other than what he did for a living. Her eyes flew to his left hand. No ring. She frowned as she felt a flicker of relief. She had no right to feel anything when it came to Cash.

“Where do you live?” she asked. That seemed a safe enough question.

“Here.” He held his beer bottle loosely with one hand, shoved his free hand in his pocket.

“Here where?”

“On the island. Those new condos down by the strip.”

She remembered seeing them when she’d crossed over the bridge. A two-story building, white stucco, wall-size glass windows. Ocean access. They were sleek and modern and stunning. And probably cost a fortune.

“Wow,” she said. “Those are…nice.”

He shrugged. “I like it. Low maintenance, you know?”

“Yes. I’m sure.” She drained her beer and set it on the table. “How long have you lived there?”

“We built them two years ago,” he told her. “I was the first to buy.”

“We?”

“Me and a couple of other investors.”

She couldn’t hide her disbelief. “You own the building?”

“Well, not technically.” He checked the burgers again. “I put up some of the capital, cut a deal on my unit. Made a nice little profit on some of the other units.”

So Cash Brady was rich. She should have known. He’d always been full of dreams, full of ideas. Once upon a time, he’d infused her with some of those same dreams. Only he’d acted on them. Without her.

“How about you?” he asked.

“What about me?”

“Where do you live?”

“Oh.” She toyed with her empty bottle. “I still live in Wisconsin.”

“Madison?”

She grimaced. “No, about ninety minutes north. A town called Mauston.”

“Judging by the face you just made, I take it you don’t like it?”

“No, it’s a nice town,” Elle said.

He raised his eyebrows.

“It is,” she insisted. “I have an apartment there. No garden.”

She didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want to talk about the job she’d been forced to quit because a colleague couldn’t keep his hands to himself. And her supervisors hadn’t cared. She clenched her teeth. No, she didn’t want to even think about it.

Thankfully, he got the hint.

He checked the burgers again. “These are done.”

She stood up and returned to the kitchen, getting a new plate. The aroma of rosemary and garlic filled the kitchen and, after handing the plate to Cash, she checked the potatoes. They sizzled in the over, the skins a crisp brown. She grabbed a pot holder and pulled the pan from the oven.

“I’m gonna get the salad ready,” she called to him through the screen door.

He came back inside and set the plate of burgers on the counter. He opened the fridge and grabbed two more bottles of beer, cracked them open and set them on the table.

“What else can I do?”

Elle rinsed the tomatoes at the sink. “Nothing. This is almost done.”

She tossed the tomatoes into the bowl of greens and grabbed tongs from a drawer. She transferred the potatoes into an earthenware bowl, pulled out a large spoon and brought it and the salad to the table.

Cash chose a seat and sat down.

Elle picked up the plate of burgers and then stopped.

“Uh-oh.”

“What?” he asked.

She spun around slowly, her face reddening a little. “Um, I sort of forgot some things at the store.”

“Like what?”

“Like ketchup. Mustard.”

He shrugged and helped himself to salad. “That’s OK. I can use dressing.” He picked up the bottle of Thousand Island.

“And buns.”

He looked up at her. “Buns?”

She nodded. “So stupid. I don’t know how I could have forgotten.” But she did know. She’d been worried about money, worried about how she was going to afford things. She didn’t mind eating hamburger patties plain. And she hadn’t counted on having company for dinner.

He motioned to the counter. “So, let’s use that.”

She glanced at the bread still resting on the counter. “The bread?”

He nodded. “Sure. Why not?”

Elle sighed. “OK.” She found a serrated knife and began slicing through the loaf. Thick slices fell to the counter, still warm. She cut four and brought them to the table, sliding into her chair as she set two on Cash’s plate.

He squirted salad dressing on both pieces, slapped the burger between them and took a bite.

“Taste OK?” she asked. She didn’t want to care what he thought of her cooking, but she did.

He chewed and swallowed. “Better than OK.”

And it was. The potatoes were crisp, with just a hint of rosemary, and the burgers were perfectly grilled. They ate their meal in companionable silence and, for the first time that evening, Elle felt herself relax. Maybe they could focus on the present, on the task at hand, and not delve back into the past.