SIXTEEN

She’s the place where fantasy and reality meet.

Leelo

“What do you mean, the dock is gone?”

Roar’s voice, which had been distracted when he first answered, snaps with sudden focus.

“Gone—just gone. As in, it’s no longer attached and I can’t see it anywhere. So can I borrow a boat? I need to go look for it.”

“I chained that sucker down, Leelo. No way it could’ve just floated off. Are the chains still there?” he asks, completely ignoring my request.

“How else would it’ve disappeared? Not like someone could’ve hauled it out and carried it off without me noticing,” I bite off, already irritated and not just about the missing dock. “I wouldn’t have bothered you if I didn’t need to borrow one of your boats. I could—”

“Do you even know how to drive a boat?” he cuts me off, leaving me with my mouth gaping open.

Talk about insult to injury.

I woke up this morning; still a little sore after the vigorous paces Roar put me through last night, in an empty bed. Sometime during the night, or early morning, while I was still sleeping off the evidence that his cock indeed could make me feel all that—and more—he disappeared on me. No goodbye, no note, no nothing.

Now I’m not asking for a goddamn lifelong commitment, for Pete’s sake, but a note might’ve been nice.

It was after I put on breakfast for my new guests, the Walters, that I went out with my favourite travel mug to enjoy my morning coffee on my new dock, to find it gone. And given that he snuck out sometime during the night, I didn’t particularly want to, but couldn’t think of anyone else to call.

“Look,” Roar says in a calmer tone that does nothing to soothe my ruffled feathers. “Just sit tight. I’ve got a bit of a situation here, but I’ll head out to look as soon as I can.”

I exhale sharply when I hear the click on the other end. Not quite the morning after I had imagined, and most certainly not the same man who had slain me with his words, and then his body, last night.

This one just pisses me off.

With a head full of steam, and restless energy to burn, I figure now is as good a time as any to find that insurance policy Henry Kline, of Kline, Kline & McTavish, was supposed to have transferred to my name.

I’ve got a claim for two wrecked washers and a dryer, and now possibly a missing dock.

Roar

“What do you want me to do with these numbnuts?”

I put the phone down and turn to Bill. I’d called him out of bed this morning, opting to forfeit the OPP switchboard and have them send an idiot like that Constable Williams.

For the mess I found when I got here this morning, I needed someone I could trust.

I woke up to my phone buzzing in the pocket of my jeans beside the bed. Leelo’s warm naked body was wrapped around me like cling wrap, but she didn’t even stir as I untangled myself from her limbs. I snagged up my jeans and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

I couldn’t understand everything the woman on the other end of the line was saying, since she was crying hysterically, but got enough to know I needed to get my ass over to the lodge right away. I told her I’d be there shortly, pulled on my jeans, grabbed my boots and shirt off the floor, and with a last glance at the still sleeping form of Leelo, I rushed out the door.

Four-thirty in the goddamn morning, and I had bodies bleeding all over my property when I pulled into my parking spot.

I’d warned the group of five Toronto yuppies, up here for a week’s fishing, on two previous occasions already, when their drinking got a little too loud. They clearly did not get the message.

The idiots decided it was a good idea to build a bonfire in the middle of the goddamn night, blasting their music out over the water. Their loud, inebriated party woke up guests in neighbouring cabins, who tried to shut things down. Inevitably voices got raised and before long the fists had been flying and things got out of control fast.

The wife of one of the guys, involved in the brawl, ended up finding my number tacked on the message board beside the office door when she couldn’t get an answer knocking at the lodge.

The fight had already died down, but left three people in need of proper medical care. The woman’s husband was bleeding from a nasty gash to his head, sustained when one of the idiots slammed his head on a rock, knocking him out cold. The other two were partiers, one with a mangled hand that will likely require surgery to repair, and the other drunk moron was spitting up blood, after a well aimed kick to his ribs. 

An hour later, the flashing lights of emergency vehicles were bouncing off the mirror surface of the lake, as the three guys were loaded up into two ambulances and the rest of the assorted cuts and bruises were being checked out. By then just about every last guest of Jackson’s Point was wide awake.

Bill had been the first to get here, followed closely by a second OPP patrol car, and he and the officer had jumped right in, trying to sort through the mess. With interruptions to get medical attention for those who needed it, they took until Patti showed up half an hour ago to get the stories straight.

“I want to send them packing,” I tell him, referring to the three guys from the Toronto group still left. “Get them gone. I don’t have time to babysit their asses the rest of the week. My other guests paid good money for a relaxing vacation, I don’t need these yahoos causing any more disruption than they already have.”

“Fair enough,” Bill says, scratching his head as he stares out over the water. “Out of curiosity, though—how come you didn’t nip this in the bud?”

I take in his profile and notice the corner of his mouth twitch. Asshole.

“Wasn’t here.”

The twitch turns into a shit-eating grin as he turns his gaze to me.

“Oh?”

“None of your goddamn business,” I bark, but I can’t help the smile tugging at my own lips at the memory of the warm bed and lush body I left behind.

“Shit, that reminds me; I should get going. The floating dock went missing from behind the motel sometime between last night and this morning.”

“The motel, huh?” Bill looks at me smugly.

“Don’t be a prick. Leelo called just now. It’s brand new. We built it yesterday and I made sure to latch that thing down with chains. This morning it was gone.”

“Well then,” Bill says, suddenly all business. “Let’s get those city boys out of your hair, and we’ll go hunting for your lady’s dock.”

Fuck Me.

-

“There it is,” Bill calls out an hour later, pointing at the overhanging brush on the far end of the old pilings on the north side of the lake. Almost immediately across the water from the motel.

Tucked under the branches, a corner of the brand new floating dock is still visible. On closer inspection, we notice one end of it is caught on a rock on the water’s edge.

“Weird,” Bill remarks. “Didn’t think there was much wind to speak of last night?”

“There wasn’t,” I confirm, grinding my teeth. “Water was smooth as glass.”

I loop a rope around one of the pilings and lower myself into the water, Bill doing the same beside me. Between the two of us, it doesn’t take long to pull the dock free from where it’s stuck and tie it to the back of my boat.

“What do you say we drag this thing back to where it belongs, and have a look at those chains you mentioned?”

With just a nod of agreement, I start the engine and steer the boat away from the shore, aiming it for shore on the far side.

She must’ve seen my boat from her window, because by the time I lower the throttle and let the boat coast into shore, Leelo is walking toward us.

“Nice.” I hear Bill mumble under his breath behind me, clearly seeing much the same thing I do when I take her in from top to bottom. The blue hair, usually tucked in a ponytail, is bouncing freely around her face. The white slouchy shirt hangs loosely down one shoulder, exposing the strap of a bra and the hint of ink on her shoulder. And finally, her slim ankles and bare feet sticking out of the rolled up khaki cargo pants. Casual, unapologetic, and totally Leelo.

I’m not sure if it’s Bill’s quietly voiced appreciation, or the curious glance Leelo shoots over my shoulder, but I don’t hesitate jumping out of the boat, marching right up to her. With a hand on either side of her face, I tilt her chin, and don’t allow for any doubt when I thoroughly claim her slightly pursed lips.

“Caveman,” she whispers when I pull away.

“You bet.” I growl my response.

The clearing of a throat interrupts the moment, as Bill walks up behind us.

“Since Doyle here seems to be busy wielding his club, I might as well introduce myself,” he says, stepping around me and reaching out his hand. “Bill Prescott, at your service.”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter at him. “You’re OPP, not MI-5.” Turning to a snickering Leelo, I add by way of explanation; “Bill is the staff sergeant for the local OPP detachment.”

“I see,” she says, grinning at him as she shakes his hand. “I’m Lilith Talbot, but my friends call me Leelo.”

“A pleasure, Leelo.” The asshole smiles big at her.

Fucking Bill.

“Now that we know who we all are, maybe we should take care of that dock?”

I hustle back in the water where the floating dock, caught in a current, is starting to pull my boat away from shore.

“Oh, shit,” I hear Bill behind me as he splashes into the water to help me reel it back in.

Leelo

It’s almost as good as watching an old Three Stooges episode.

Except, there’s only two, although these guys are a shitload better looking than Larry, Curly and Moe.

I sit down on the old portion of the dock, dangling my feet in the cooling water, watching them struggle to pull the boat back to shore. The occasional verbal barbs they exchange put a grin on my face.

I’d lost most of this morning’s bad mood when I was putting away my laundry, looked out the bedroom window, and saw the boat towing my dock from the other side of the lake. It wasn’t hard to make out Roar’s tall form, although I didn’t know who the second man was.

There was still some lingering disappointment to find him gone without a word this morning, but hunting down and bringing me back my dock goes a long way to alleviating it.

“Sunshine, can you pull the chain up from the water?”

I scoot over the to end of the dock and reach down to fish it out. The locked padlock is still on there, its key in the lockbox in the office, where Roar left it.

He wades over, pulling the dock along behind him, and I hold it up for him to see.

“Fuck,” he says, looking at the cut link dangling at the bottom, before hauling himself out of the water and turning to his friend. “Don’t let it float off this time, I’m just gonna grab the key.”

“I knew it was a good idea for me to come along,” Bill comments, watching Roar stalk off toward the house.

“Someone cut it.” I state the obvious.

“Looks like,” Bill agrees.

“Where exactly did you find it?” I want to know.

“It got stuck on a rock beside the remnants of an old dock straight across the lake,” he answers.

I look in the direction he’s pointing, remembering the boat I’d seen there.

“Someone was out there last week. One of those sleek speedboats. I saw it tied up when I went for a swim and then it took off,” I recount. “I remember it striking me as odd, since I didn’t think there was much of anything out there. Just Crown land, right?”

“Did you tell Doyle that?” he probes, his face suddenly serious.

“Tell me what?”

Roar wades into the water to where Bill is holding onto the dock, and holds his hand out to me for the length of chain. While he makes short measure of latching the errant dock back down, Bill repeats what I told him. The two share a look in some kind of silent language I’m not privy to.

“See anyone in the boat?”

“Nope. I remember thinking that was odd. Almost looked like one of those remote control things. Or...” I add pensively. “Whoever was driving it was ducking out of sight.”

“Right,” Bill mutters, as the two men finish securing the floating dock in silence.

“Do you have coffee?” Roar asks when they’re done.

“I can make some,” I offer.

“That’d be good.”

-

Thirty minutes later, we’re sitting at a table in my makeshift restaurant, the guys putting a dent in this morning’s leftover muffins.

“So why would anyone have it out for me?” I ask. “And who? I haven’t even had time to make enemies.”

Bill spent the past half hour questioning me about any little incident that might have happened since I arrived. Both men seem of a mind it’s likely one person behind the dock, the poor deer, and even the bear incident.

“I mean,” I continue. “I had a bit of a rough start with Travis at the hardware store, but I think we’ve gotten past that, since I’m in there all the time now. Everyone else has been nice.” I shudder when I think of Kyle Thompson. “Almost too nice,” I add.

My words are met with silence and both guys are staring at me.

“What? The real estate guy? Kyle Thompson? Why in hell—”

“He’s the only one on the lake with a boat like the one you’re describing,” Roar points out. “He’s also tried unsuccessfully to get in your pants on several occasions, and believe me when I tell you, the man does not take rejection well.”

“But—”

“Timing is interesting too,” Bill adds his two cents. “From what I can gather, every confrontation you’ve had with him was followed by an incident.”

“But I haven’t seen him since his speech at the community centre,” I challenge. “By your logic that incident resulted in the mess in my laundry room, but what about the dock? What would his motivation have been for that?”

“Me.”

I look at Roar who is calmly staring back.

“What about you?”

“Look,” Bill answers instead. “Kyle and Doyle here have somewhat of a history.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Right, well then you know that if Doyle has it—Kyle wants it.”

I sit back and let that percolate, because that would mean he’s been watching. Closely.

“But the dock...” I protest feebly, looking down at my hands to avoid Roar’s eyes for fear the blush crawling up my neck will ignite all over my face.

“Wouldn’t have been hard for him to figure out Doyle spent the night,” Bill suggests gently.

His astute observation does little for my complexion, which I’m sure is a deep shade of beet red now.

I hear the scrape of a chair and then a mumbled, “Gotta make a call,” from Bill before his footsteps move away from the table. The moment I hear the door close, I let out the deep breath I’d been holding.

“Come here.”

“Why did you sneak out?” I ask him, ignoring his demand, and to my surprise, he answers without hesitation.

“A messy situation at the lodge I had to sort out. My phone woke me up. You were deep asleep and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Oh.”

His quick response makes me feel a bit better. All morning I hadn’t been able to shake off the thought that perhaps he regretted what happened last night. Or, God forbid, it had been a big disappointment.

It irritates me that I still do that, putting myself down, but I can’t seem to stop it. Years of conditioning is hard to break out of.

“Come here.” His deep rumble pierces my thoughts, as he reaches over the table, grabs my hand, and pulls me up.

I can’t help casting a quick glance outside to see if we’re being watched, but Bill’s back is turned and he’s talking on the phone. Roar tugs me close to stand between his legs, his hands on my hips. Even with him sitting, and me still on my feet, I don’t have to look too far down to find his eyes on me.

“I had to call Bill in this morning. A fight broke out between some guests and people got hurt. I kinda had my hands full when you called.”

“That’s okay,” I mumble.

“Anyway, Bill heard my side of the conversation and guessed,” he explains. “We’ve been friends for many years, and he’s one of the few people who knows me best. Didn’t take much for him to clue in.”

For a moment, I just look down in his face; not smiling, but his eyes are soft on mine. I lift my hand and run my fingertips over the worry grooves between his eyes.

“I’m sorry that happened,” I voice. “I hope everyone is okay?”

“Had to kick out some guests with Bill’s help, but yes, everything should be okay.”

He grabs my hand and tugs me down, hooking me behind the neck as soon as he can reach. When he lifts his chin in invitation, I don’t hesitate to give him my lips. His kiss is soft—conciliatory. When he lets me go, he has one hand cupping my face, his thumb gently brushing my lips.

“Next time, I’ll leave a note.”