Take Me All the Way (6 page)

Meanwhile, Cami was busy scribbling names into a notebook—a result of Polly asking how big this wedding shower party thing was going to be, since she and Abner were providing the food. “It's nice for Christy,” Cami added, “that there are a few people from her hometown who live here. More will come down for the wedding itself, but for the party, we'll definitely want to invite John and Nancy Romo. And Jeremy, too.”

At this, Tamra's eyebrows shot up. “Jeremy? Are you serious?” She made a face. “He's becoming part of our social circle now?”

Cami shrugged and opened her eyes wider, as if to say:
Deal with it.
“He's one of Christy's few links to her hometown here. And besides, everyone else we know will be coming—it would seem weirder
not
to invite him. And it might be nice to make him feel included.”

Tamra just sighed. “If he doesn't get included in things, maybe it's because he's . . . say, homeless. Or rude. Or gets arrested because he attacks people.”
Now
her
eyes went wide, silently expressing that she was making excellent points.

But Cami seemed unmoved. “Riley was homeless once, too, you know.” Riley was the manager of the Happy Crab. Reece had taken in the old man out of the goodness of his heart—and now Riley was a beloved member of the community. “Sometimes people just need a little help, someone to believe in them.”

Tamra took that in. She knew it was true. She hadn't believed much in
herself
when she'd arrived in Coral Cove with nothing but a car full of pottery and stained glass to show for her first twenty-seven years of life. The kindness of the people here had changed that. And yet she still felt the need to argue, grousing, “Reece needs to be more careful about taking in homeless people—one of these days he could end up with a real nut on his hands.”

But at that, Polly just laughed and Cami said, “Well, we're still inviting Jeremy Sheridan to the party.”

A
S
Jeremy walked in the door at Home Depot, he scanned the area, high and low, as he automatically did when entering any new environment. As he turned each blind corner, he kept on the alert, ready for anything. He knew there weren't snipers at Home Depot, but his body didn't seem to know—his body stayed tense in any unfamiliar surroundings.

He walked down the tool aisle, then flinched at the sight of a man holding a drill, testing the feel of it in his hand.
It's a drill, not a weapon.
Breathe. Slowly. Inhale through the nose. Count four. Exhale through the mouth. Count four.
It always helped.

The truth was, he fucking hated being here. He hated being anyplace with a crowd, with strangers milling around. That was a lot of the appeal of Whisper Falls. No crowds. No unpredictability. It had taken some of the tension out of his day. Most people could walk around a store or a town and feel normal, but for Jeremy it wasn't that easy.

And even at the beach, there were vast open spaces—it was easy to stay aware of what went on around him. In a store, though, he was confronted by aisles, and tall shelves, things you couldn't see around.

But it'll get easier. It'll get a little easier every time.

As he found a large cart and began collecting what he needed, his mind drifted back to the jobsite, to his interactions with the princess who refused to be anybody's princess. He didn't know what he thought of her. Shades of light and dark there. Shades of challenge. And he wasn't up for mysteries these days, so it was probably best to just do his work and let it alone.
It
being her.
It
being whatever weird pull he'd felt moving between them.

It hit him, as he located the size 10p nails he needed for framing, that she'd actually made him laugh. Unwittingly maybe, but still—he couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed and really meant it. Maybe that was why he'd kept egging her on.

She stayed on his mind as he gathered the rest of the building supplies, and it was only as he headed to the checkout that he realized he'd spent the last few minutes
not
looking around waiting for something bad to happen.

And by the time Jeremy left the store with his pur
chases loaded into the bed of his truck, he felt a little stronger than he had going in.

A
S
the sun sank over the ocean in the distance a few days later, Jeremy sat eating takeout from Gino's Pizzeria up the street at one of the picnic tables behind the Happy Crab. It had become a favorite spot for him since arriving here, a peaceful spot. He supposed in summer, when the place was more crowded, the motel's pool might be busy with laughing, splashing kids, or the dock area more bustling with boaters, but for now it was a relatively tranquil place where he could quietly take in this little corner of the world.

The thing that made it even better tonight was that he'd bought his dinner. No one had given it to him out of generosity. He
appreciated
generosity—he'd elicited more than his fair share since returning home from Afghanistan—but it was nice not to
need
it for a change. Although he'd only worked a partial week so far, today he'd gotten his first paycheck signed by Jack DuVall, proprietor of the Coral Cove Mini-Golf Paradise.

After cashing it, he'd promptly headed to the motel's office and paid Riley for at least a little of his bill—it had felt good to start chipping away at that. Then he'd bought a couple slices of pepperoni pizza and a large soda, bringing it back here to the peace and quiet he found peering out over the masts and sails of the boats lining the dock area and the bay beyond.

He'd spent these last days erecting the small building Tamra had put him in charge of. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed working with his hands. Or . . . maybe he hadn't ever really liked it as much as he sud
denly did now. Seeing something begin to grow that hadn't been there before made him feel worthwhile. Even if it was only a mini-golf course. He supposed it just felt good to be doing something right for a change.

He hadn't seen much of Tamra—she'd informed him she'd be working on other things. And he was pretty sure he'd just scared her off that first morning. But still she stayed on his mind. Maybe he'd liked the idea of having company as he worked. A surprising thought for a man who'd chosen to isolate himself for so long. Or maybe he'd just
expected
company—normally you get a job, you deal with people on that job.

Once upon a time, he'd been smooth with women, good with girls. What had happened with her that first morning on the job didn't make him feel smooth, but flirting had come shockingly easy—even if it might not have been appropriate.

These days he didn't examine stuff like that. Unlike the Jeremy Sheridan of old, he didn't have much of a filter these days, and he kind of liked it that way. It made life a little more interesting anyway.

And maybe he'd liked pushing her buttons. He wasn't sure why—except maybe because they were just so easy to push.

Oh well, probably didn't matter much if she was going to keep her distance. He supposed that was a hint and that he should probably take it.

Even if there was something about her . . . under the surface. Something he could sense more than see. She was so prickly on the outside—yet he suspected there was something softer, gentler, underneath. It made him want to uncover it . . .

But take the hint, like you just told yourself.

Even if she's the first woman to spark any interest in you, of any kind, for a very long time.

Just then a certain gray tomcat came trotting up the dock, almost blending into the weathered wood. Camouflage, Jeremy thought. Looked like the cat had recovered from what had happened the last time they'd crossed paths.

The big, lean cat paused at the end of a ramp that led to—oh hell—the same boat the frat boys had occupied that fateful night. Jeremy hadn't seen any movement on the boat—tonight or since he'd been arrested—but still he silently willed the cat:
Don't go there, bud. I can't save you this time.

His throat seized slightly then, and his chest tightened, realizing the words that had just passed through his brain.

You can't save anyone. Not even a damn cat.

When the cat finally moved on, Jeremy whispered, “Good.”

And the small sound made the cat look over at him with his remaining eye.

And he realized that this time he could give the cat something to eat.

Pinching a bit of thick pizza crust off in his fingertips, he held it down where he hoped the cat would see it. It was dark out, but the area was lit.

The cat didn't hesitate—he walked right up to Jeremy and took the offered bite of food, and then another, gobbling them down.

“There you go, buddy,” he whispered. “Eat up.” He found himself scratching the cat's head for a second, then reached up to tear off more crust for him, along with a little cheese this time, too.

“What's your story?” he murmured toward the cat. “You got a death wish or something, hanging out around that boat again?” He chuckled. “Or you want to be the captain, head out on a big fishing trip.”

Just then, the motel office's back door opened and Jeremy looked up to see Reece walk out. “This the guy whose honor you were defending last week?” he asked, peering down at the cat.

“Guilty as charged,” Jeremy replied.

“Speaking of that,” Reece said, reaching the picnic table, “got some good news for ya.”

“That's something I could use,” Jeremy said. Though, in fact, he already felt more at ease inside than he had in a long time. Maybe good news was just the icing on an already pretty decent week or so. Relatively speaking anyway.

“The assault charges were dropped,” Reece told him.

And though Jeremy hadn't let himself think much about that, it had placed a weight on his chest that he'd been ignoring because it was easier than facing it. He'd gotten too damn good at that. But things were changing now, thank God.

He didn't hide his relief. “That's more than good news—it's the best damn news I've heard in ages.” He released some of that pent-up tension with a sigh, then asked, “How'd you make that happen?”

Reece shrugged. “The kid's been in some trouble—didn't need any more. And I think his dad realizes he's an ass and probably had it coming.”

Jeremy met Reece's gaze again. “I owe ya, man. Big time.”

Reece let out a good-natured laugh. “You're right,
you do. But lucky for you, I don't keep score. Just glad things are going better for you.”

Yet Jeremy still needed to say more. “You've really . . . kept me on my feet here. I won't forget it.”

Reece took the gratitude as easily as he did everything else. He just nodded comfortably and said, “So the work's going good then? You and Tamra aren't gonna kill each other?”

Jeremy let out a quick, unplanned laugh. Clearly word had made it around that the two of them had butted heads a little. Even though, technically, it had been more like butting bodies. Which was a lot more fun, and a memory that still made him feel . . . alive, in a man/woman kind of way, more than he had in ages.

“I won't kill
her
as long as she doesn't kill
me
. She's keeping her distance, though, so guess we're both safe for now.” He tossed a sideways glance in Reece's direction to add, “Don't think she likes me much.”

When Reece didn't reply to that, only keeping an amused expression in place, Jeremy added, “What's her deal, anyway? Seems uptight.”

Reece shifted his weight from one flip-flop to the other. “She is, a little. But . . . she had a rough time earlier in life.”

Jeremy let that statement hang in the evening air for a minute. It was easy to forget that most everyone had demons of some kind, especially when you were battling your own. “Don't suppose you're gonna tell me in what way?” It was none of his business, especially since he barely knew Tamra, but he couldn't help being curious.

“Nope,” his landlord said. “That'd have to come from her.”

Now it was Jeremy who nodded, letting it drop, but still wondering what made Tamra . . . Tamra.

“She's one of my closest friends,” Reece said then. “Just so you know.” A gentle warning came through in his tone.

And Jeremy replied, “Understood and respected.” He got the point.

After which Reece's gaze took on a speculative look as he tilted his head and observed, “You seem . . . cooler than you have up to now.”

Jeremy couldn't argue with that. “Guess getting out, working, is good. A step in the right direction.”

“That's good to hear. Keep it up.” And with that, Reece pointed over his shoulder in the general direction of the shore to say, “Well, I've got a date with a hot blonde for a late walk on the beach, so I'm gonna take off.”

“Okay, man. Enjoy,” Jeremy said, watching him go.

That was when a meow drew his attention back to the big gray tomcat at his feet. He'd continued dropping bite-size bits of pizza down to him, but had run out as he and Reece had talked. “Sorry, pal,” he said now, peering down at the cat, “but you cleaned me out.”

Though he instinctually reached down to scratch the cat behind the ear anyway, watching his one pensive green eye fall contentedly shut. There was something satisfying in bringing the cat a little peace that way. Maybe it brought him a little peace, too.

But that kind of peace, he knew, was only temporary—you could only pet a cat so long.

So after a while he stopped, sat back upright on the picnic table's bench.

When the cat opened his good eye again, their gazes locked. Until, after a few seconds, the cat suddenly turned and trotted away, over toward the Hungry Fisherman's back door, clearly in search of a bigger dinner.

“Don't get yourself in any trouble, bud,” he murmured as the cat disappeared into the darkness.