Chapter Two
On Second Thought
“Excuse me. Mr. Applegate?”
I’d spent the morning working like a frenzied fiend so I wouldn’t have to think about what a weak, pathetic loser I was over the Wally Cook situation. I’d just locked the tool shed when the man called my name. I assumed it was a guest, but when I turned around, his attire gave me pause. I was glad I’d at least washed my hands recently, because I was a dirt-streaked mess after cleaning cabins, and this man was...elegant.
It wasn’t a word I’d ever used to describe a man before, but it fit him. He made me want to reach up and fix my hair, made me wish my tee shirt wasn’t dusty and sweat-stained. The pale brown suit that skimmed his form was clearly custom made, giving me a decent tease of the body beneath it—lean but with an ass. Sandy blond hair styled short, some of the biggest, prettiest brown eyes I’d ever seen.
I shook myself out of stunned silence and started toward him. “Yeah. I’m Applegate. Jude Applegate. What can I do for you?”
“You’re the manager here?”
“That’s right.”
As I got closer, I realized he was younger than I’d originally thought, smooth olive skin, maybe twenty-five tops. He gave me a glacier-melting smile and I imagined harp music playing, because this was an out-of-place angel here in the dusty motel lot. I wasn’t exactly perving on the guy, because I didn’t like to perv on people out of my league, or who didn’t play for my team. It was more of a quiet awe I was experiencing, just appreciating the view and happy to be in his presence.
“I was hoping to have a word with you,” he said. “It’s about Walter Cook.”
A record scratch sounded in my mind, the imaginary harp strings snapping. “What about Walter Cook?”
“You’ve decided to cancel the arrangement the court made with your mother. The community service.”
Pulling a rag out of my pocket, I wiped dirt off my arms, mainly because I was uncomfortable and wanted something to do with my hands. “You the lawyer?”
“No. But I am closely acquainted with Walt’s lawyer. Terry called right away and told me what was happening.”
“So, who are you and why’d she call you right away?”
“He. Terry Carlyle is a man. And I’m Shea.” He stuck his hand out. “Shea Cook. I’m Walt’s brother.”
My eyes widened. I mentally rearranged and slammed his features back together, calculating for time and age. He was all grown up and prettier than anyone had a right to be, but the eyes hadn’t changed. He still had those long black spider lashes he’d had as a kid.
Shea. The elegant blond guy in the suit was Wally’s baby brother. He’d been a sobbing little boy with a bleeding face last time I’d seen him. A frightened kid in superhero pajamas. But he clearly did not remember me. I spotted a faded scar beneath his eye, and almost blurted out, I know where you got that.
“Is something wrong?” Shea asked with a hesitant smile, still holding his hand out to shake. I glanced down at his hand as memories accosted me.
“You can kiss my hand if you want to.”
“Oh, sorry.” I shook his hand. “You’re his brother, you said?”
“Yes. Is there somewhere we can talk? For the sake of honesty, I’ll say I’m hoping I can get you to change your mind about Walt working here. It’s important.”
“Yeah, no need to waste your time. That’s not gonna happen.” I shoved the rag in my back pocket and crossed my arms over my chest. “Decision’s been made.”
“But...can I ask why? As of just yesterday it was all set up. Why cancel now?”
“I’ve got my reasons.”
His eyes narrowed. The rosebud lips of childhood were now full and wide, his boyhood beauty transformed into adult sexiness. Everything about him was silky softness—his voice, his skin, his hair. His beautiful suit. All but his sharp brown eyes, which showed intelligence, confidence, and strength. My attempt to intimidate by rudeness wasn’t working. He stepped even closer to me and I could smell him, cologne so intoxicating it had to be expensive. “Mr. Applegate, I—”
“Call me Jude.”
“All right. Jude. My brother has been through a lot. He needs this arrangement to work. He can’t have any more trouble.”
“I see.” I chuckled. “Privilege comes in handy, does it?”
“Excuse me?”
“Wally got himself into trouble, and now his family is rushing in to get him out of it. Probably happens a lot, right?”
Shea stared at me strangely for a moment, then he sighed and took a step back, nodding. “Oh. Okay. Now I get it.”
“You get what?”
“How do you know my brother?”
“I don’t.”
“Come on. No one calls him Wally anymore. He’s Walt now. Or Big Walt to his friends.”
“Big Walt? Sounds like a sandwich.”
“Regardless, Jude, he hasn’t been called Wally in years. So how do you know him?”
Busted. I’d have to be more cautious with my emotions. “Okay, I knew him back in middle school. But I haven’t seen him in well over a decade. I wasn’t lying. I honestly don’t know him. Not anymore.”
Shea’s brows rose. “You went to Shady Hill?”
I laughed. Shady Hill was a fancy private school. “Oh, hell no. Eastern Heights.”
Shaking his head, Shea said, “Walter never went to public school.”
“He did, just for a little while. You were probably too young to remember.”
“Guess so. Look, I can imagine my brother must have been a little bastard back then—”
“It’s not about that. I barely remember him.” Oh, how the lies did flow with ease when faced with the subject of Wally Cook.
“Well, he probably doesn’t remember you either,” Shea said. “Walt’s been hit in the head a lot. Good thing he’s got a thick skull.”
I stared, stunned. “What?”
“Oh, I’m joking.” He snorted a laugh, a small crack in that elegant demeanor, and the smile made him look younger. “Kind of. I didn’t mean to imply my brother is actually brain damaged. Although, he did get in a lot of fights as a teenager, so you never know.”
“You’re really winning me over now.”
“Look, despite what happened with the car accident, he’s not a big drinker and he’s not reckless. He’s been running a business since he was twenty-one. He’s not someone you need to worry about working on your property. As for his memory, it’s fine for the most part. Though he tends to outright forget things from childhood.” His gaze went to the ground, one leather shoe kicking at the dirt. “Which is actually a blessing. Things weren’t great for us when we were kids.”
Goddamn it. I didn’t want to feel sympathy. For either of them. “Sorry to hear that.”
He waved me off. “Thanks. But I’m still confused. If you don’t really know Walt, if it’s not personal, what made you say no to the community service?”
“Just don’t need a criminal around here. Gotta think of the guests. Lot of kids come in the summer.”
“Oh, come on.” The first flicker of anger showed as he changed his stance, feet spread wide, hands on his hips. “My brother is not a criminal. He’s not a danger to anyone. Especially kids. Our two older brothers have big families, and Walt’s great with the children. Your comment is offensive.”
Wow. Okay. So Shea was fiercely loyal to his shitty brother. I got it. But that didn’t mean I had to concede. Wally Cook had sure as shit had never been loyal to me. “Well...technically, he is a criminal. Unless drunk driving is no longer a crime. They haven’t changed the rules, have they?”
“It was bad luck. Walt is a good person, and he’s ready to pay his dues for damaging your property.”
“Yeah, pay his dues. Surprised he didn’t just offer to write a check.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I know who your family is.”
“You might know who my family is, but you don’t know how complicated things are for Walt right now. No one’s letting him off easy. This arrangement was hard won by Terry, and if it falls apart my brother could go to jail.” He glanced to his right, where Lindy was leading a group of preteen kids up to the boathouse, like a row of awkward ducklings. “That’s your sister, right?”
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“I met her when I arrived. She’s the one who pointed you out to me.” He pinned me with his gaze. “You love her, right? Wouldn’t want to see her in trouble? Behind bars?”
Sighing, I rolled my eyes. “All right, all right, settle down. No need to get personal.”
“It is personal. I love my brother, and he’s had a really rough couple of years. I’ve come here in good faith to ask you to give him a chance. If you let me explain, I’m sure you can be persuaded to do that.”
“Yeah, I bet you’re good at persuasion.”
Shea’s frown smoothed and he chuckled. “Excuse me?”
What the fuck, Jude? I couldn’t believe those words just came out of my mouth, innuendo dripping from my tone. Shea Cook’s presence had me off balance. “Sorry. I just meant...the way you speak. Sounds like you’re the attorney.”
He smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners, and it felt flirtatious. My insides wobbled. “No. I’m a restaurant owner,” he said. “But I do date my brother’s attorney, so maybe I’ve...absorbed some of his litigation prowess.”
“Date?” I pointed at him. “You. Date the attorney. The male attorney.”
Chuckling, he nodded. “That’s right.”
“Oh, you...you’re gay?”
“You don’t have to look so scared. It’s not contagious.”
“No! I don’t. I mean...” I laughed. Shea’s teasing smile was the contagious thing. I lowered my voice, placing a hand on my chest. “I’m gay. I’m gay too. So see, I wasn’t being weird.”
“Oh. That I didn’t see coming. But you were being a little weird.”
“I’m always a little weird. Sorry.”
“That’s all right. Least you stopped giving me that tough guy glare.”
“I wasn’t. That’s just my face.”
“Nah.” He chuckled. “You’re smiling now. Looks good on you.”
I was starting to worry that I’d already lost this battle. “Well, thank you. Your...smile looks good on you too.”
“Have we met before?” Shea asked suddenly.
“No. I don’t believe so.”
Another lie. But hell, what would I have told him otherwise? That I knew him from a night when his father broke my wrist and made him bleed? I doubted he’d appreciate the reminder.
“Are you sure? You never came into the restaurant in Landing? Something so familiar about you. Your eyes.”
“I just have one of those faces,” I said. “Probably a lot of people who look like me.”
“Oh, I doubt that.” Another flirty smile. He tugged at his collar like it was uncomfortable suddenly, and a fantasy video played in my head of what he would look like unbuttoning that shirt and taking it off. Slowly.
Dial it back, Jude.
Didn’t he say he was dating Wally’s lawyer? Yeah, he did. This little honeyed-voice flirting routine was meant to sway my vote, nothing more. I decided to save my dignity and get back to the point. “I’m sorry, Shea. I’m sorry your brother’s having a hard time or whatever, but I don’t think him working here is a good idea.”
“Is it a hard no?” He took a step closer. “Or will you give me a chance to defend his honor? Five minutes. That’s all I ask.”
If only he didn’t smell so good. If only he didn’t have those doe eyes. I tried to be strong. “I just don’t know, Shea.”
“Give me five minutes. Then you can decide. Please?”
I groaned, running fingers through my hair. I wasn’t sure if it was how adorable Shea still was, or if it was my memory of him as a little boy that needed protection. But I wanted to say yes to him. I wanted to say yes to whatever he asked for. I tried to fight it, but I kept glancing at the scar beneath his eye. Remembering a frightened little boy, clinging to the back of my shirt while he trembled and sobbed. And bled.
“All right, Shea Cook,” I said. “You’ve got five minutes. Gimme your pitch.”
****
Half an hour later, after showering and changing out of my sweaty clothes, I was maneuvering my truck along the narrow, winding road that led out to the cliffside. I’d bitched about having to come out here, but found I was enjoying the ride. Beach scrub flanked me on either side, an abstract of wildflowers swaying in the marshy fields. Colorful birds flitted from tree tops and dove across my path. I tried to focus on these things, and the clear sunny day. It helped with my current anxiety, which was making my heart race.
Because I’d caved to Shea Cook. I was on my way to pick up Wally.
I still wasn’t sure if it was Shea’s words, or his soft, hypnotic voice and batting eyelashes that swayed me. He certainly did present an extensive laundry list of reasons why his brother should be pitied and given a second chance.
He told me about Wally’s ugly divorce from his wife, and how depressed he’d been afterward. I wasn’t altogether surprised to learn that Wally had been married to a woman. I doubted he was even bisexual. That night in his bedroom when he asked me to touch him, it wasn’t about me at all. He just wanted someone to tug his dick.
Shea also told me about a big falling out Wally had with his father right after the divorce, and that now they were engaged in a vicious legal battle that was tearing the family apart. He piled onto the sob story, revealing that Wally had been sent away to a juvenile detention facility when he was a teen, for beating up another kid, and how the experience changed him. Wally wouldn’t be able to handle going to jail, Shea said, for any period of time, which is what might happen if I refused his community service. Wally’s little brother poured it on thick as porridge.
And now, after succumbing to his wishes, I was experiencing a case of what the fuck have I done? I was about to see Wally Cook. The betrayer himself. His villainy was epic in my memories, but I had no idea what I’d find when I got there. While I was going to see my childhood nemesis, I was also going to see some dude I didn’t know. A stranger.
The GPS warned me to take the next right. “What right? There is no right.”
But there was, just up ahead, a break in the vegetation leading to a dirt road shrouded by blueberry bushes. Branches scraped the side of the truck as I cut the wheel. Dust kicked up under my tires and the road became a steep, prolonged incline, just enough space for the truck to carve through the canopy of trees. I jostled in my seat, the bumpy terrain making it feel like that long, anticipatory climb at the start of a rollercoaster ride.
What the hell is up here? It went on for a long time, swerving off to the right, then the left, then back again, but the steep incline remained. I worried I was going the wrong way into nowhere, but the tiny arrow continued to guide me along the GPS map. Finally, the road leveled out. I was momentarily shocked when I spotted the tall structure up ahead in the distance.
“That fucking place? No way.” I hit the brakes and studied the GPS. Yep, this was definitely the right address.
Looming high atop a bluff overlooking the sea, I’d only ever seen the place from the water when I was out boating. When I was a kid, Lindy and I used to speculate if a vampire lived there, because it was a creepy eyesore. But our father assured us it was just a big old house that had been abandoned. Now when I was out fishing or kayaking, I barely noticed it anymore. It had become just part of the familiar scenery.
But now I was seeing the structure from a new angle, standing tall beyond an open field with a driveway snaking all the way up to the front doors. Weather had done its work on the exterior so it had that washed-out grayish color unique to beachside houses. But house didn’t really describe this looming monstrosity. With several stories and a rickety looking widow’s walk on the roof, the place looked fit to be torn down before it collapsed into the sea.
I put the truck in gear and continued up the long driveway toward the building. As I approached I saw scaffolding attached to the house up high, and two men working on the roof. Three vehicles were parked out front, a huge white utility truck I assumed belonged to the roofers, a small red pickup with the hood propped open, and a smashed-up blue sports car sitting on blocks. The lawn in front of the big front porch was littered with stacks of plywood, various unattached doors, some scattered pipes and plumbing equipment, and mountains of rolled up carpet.
Summoning my courage and putting on my game face, I got out of the truck, dancing around scraps of wood as I made my way toward the house. Dogs barked over loud music somewhere inside. I drifted past the red truck, spotting a pair of denim-clad legs on the ground sticking out from underneath, various wrenches and tools spread out around them. “Excuse me,” I said. “I’m looking for Walter.”
“In the house,” a male voice responded.
“Thanks.”
Stepping onto the sagging porch, I stopped dead when two enormous German Shepherds appeared at the door. They jumped onto hind legs and barked viciously, paws pressed against the screen.
“Shit.” I took a step back. “Nice doggies. Hello?” I shouted, but heard only music and barking.
“Just let them out,” a voice behind me said.
The man had crawled out from beneath the red truck and was walking toward me. He was real skinny, in his twenties, platinum-blond hair sticking up messily all over his scalp. He looked a bit scraggly but had a friendly, impish face. I’d have thought the hair to be dyed, but his near translucent skin matched it. “Let them out?” I glanced at the snarling dogs, then back at the platinum-haired stranger.
“Yeah, once they run around a bit they’ll calm down. They just don’t like strangers.”
I retreated off the porch and stood on the lawn. “You let them out. I don’t want to get eaten.”
The guy trotted up onto the porch. “Gator, Lucifer, calm down, he’s friendly,” he said, then shouted, “Walt! Get your ass out here!” He opened the door and the dogs sprang from the house, stampeding across the porch and onto the lawn. Straight at me.
“Fuck!” I shouted as paws slammed into my chest. My back hit the ground, knocking the wind half out of my lungs. I held my arms up as two giant canine heads barked and growled in my face, teeth bared.
No, I thought, don’t let this be my demise. I cannot die being eaten by Wally Cook’s dogs. There is no fucking justice in that.
The screen door slammed, then a loud, sharp whistle sounded. “Get on out of here, go play!” a deep voice called out. Suddenly the dogs retreated, darting off into the field of overgrown grass surrounding the house.
A new shadow fell upon me, and I looked up at a tall, muscular man, all arms and chest and shoulders in a red tank top. Maybe it was partly oxygen restriction from my fall, but everything took on a surreal, dreamlike quality as I blinked at the vision staring down at me.
He was bigger. The bones in his face were thicker. But I knew that mouth. Those lips. Lips I’d stared at for an entire schoolyear when I was a kid.
With his head bowed, black hair hung in loose strands to his cheekbones. He was suntanned, and had brown eyes similar to Shea’s. But that’s where the similarity ended. Where Shea was coiffed and polished, Wally was a hot mess. Paint-speckled boots, drywall dust in his hair, the faint remnants of grease on his knuckles. But he was insanely fit, all too obvious in the flimsy tank top he wore with jeans. I understood now why he was called ‘Big Walt’ to his friends. Wally made his little brother Shea seem delicate by comparison.
I seethed. Even though I knew I’d come here for him, shock took hold at the sight of his familiar face. Though I was still wheezing from my fall, I wanted to lunge at him. My guts roiled with hatred.
“Shit,” he said. “Can you breathe?”
My breath slowly returning, I nodded.
“You okay? Please tell me you aren’t hurt. I can’t deal with another lawsuit right now. I’ll go walk off that cliff right there.”
I was tempted to tell him go ahead, jump. Instead, I croaked out, “I’m fine.”
“Sorry about the dogs. You the beaver guy?”
Nearby, the blond man snorted.
Groaning, I sat up, brushing dirt off my chest from the dogs’ paws. “Yeah. I’m the beaver guy.”
Wally Cook smiled, and it was like getting the wind knocked out of me a second time. I wasn’t sure if it was preteen hormonal memories, or if Wally’s smile had always been that good. I’d been hoping to find him physically repulsive. But it didn’t matter. That hate was still in me, so hot and fresh it took me by surprise. Wally’s attractiveness would not be a problem for me. Not this time.
“Here, I’ll help you up. Sorry again about the dogs. They just don’t like strangers.”
“I got that.” Taking the offered hand, I allowed Wally Cook to help me to my feet.
His gaze locked onto my face for several seconds before releasing my hand, then he took a step back. “Did you hurt yourself?” he asked with a concerned scowl. “Looks like you’re in pain.”
His comment made me realize I’d been openly glaring at him. “No, I’m fine.”
“I am sorry about this, I’ll sort my own ride out next time. What’s your name?”
“I’m Jude. Applegate.”
I braced for the reaction upon hearing my name, but his eyes never even flickered a hint of recognition. Damn, how many times had he been hit in the head?
“I’m Walt Cook.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Right. Of course.” He glanced to his left at the sports car, which had a few wood splinters from Bucky’s legs still clinging to the grill. “Sorry about your beaver. That was one hell of a crash.” He lifted his dark locks to show me his forehead. “Still got a scar from that night, see?”
He leaned in close to show me the small pink scar, close enough that I could smell him. While his brother Shea smelled like expensive cologne, Walt just smelled like soap. His trusting, relaxed manner drove home that he must truly not remember me. He would have known enough to be skittish around me otherwise. He’d have known I hated him. But how could he not remember me? I assured myself he must be faking it, but couldn’t imagine he was that good an actor.
I’d been telling myself the best-case scenario would be Wally not remembering me at all. But now that it was actually happening, it pissed me off. How dare he not remember me after what he’d done? Even if it was a long time ago, even if we were ‘practically babies’ as my mother said, it destroyed my life. It ruined much of my high school experience. It prolonged my grieving and added to my pain. All the worst things to happen in my life, were in some way caused by Wally Cook. And he didn’t fucking remember me.
Did I want him to remember? The thought made my anxiety spike. No, I didn’t want to dredge all that shit up. But I was angry, because Wally Cook was being friendly and moderately charming. And I was already finding it hard to hold onto that old hate, or to even equate this man with that boy. I wasn’t about to make friends with the guy. But I hadn’t expected it to be this easy. It was disconcerting. My hate for Wally had consumed me all these years. I wasn’t sure who I’d be without it.
“You about ready to go?” I asked. “We’re burning daylight and there’s work to do.”
“Just lemme grab my bag.”
I watched him run back to the house, screen door slapping as he went inside.
“Goddamn...fuck! Fuck this shit.”
My head turned toward the red truck, where the blond guy was now leaning over the engine, tugging on a wrench and cursing. At least I knew the car trouble wasn’t a false excuse. But what the hell was Wally Cook doing living in this old shithole anyway? And in Gullport? With a roommate? Shea said Wally had a rough couple of years, but by Cook standards, this was a complete fall from grace.
But Wally himself didn’t seem particularly beaten down. Maybe a bit world-worn, but he was certainly cheerful enough. The screen door slammed and he returned with a pack slung over his shoulder. My eyes took him in as he walked toward me, from his bare, sculpted shoulders in the tank top, down to nice solid quads wrapped in denim. A breeze lifted his dark hair off his face, and for a split-second I saw the boy he used to be. Young Wally Cook was still in there somewhere, but that laidback confidence he used to have wasn’t really evident anymore. Despite his banter and easy smile, I sensed a nervous energy about him, something pent up lying dormant.
“Is this good?” he asked as he approached.
“Huh?”
“You were looking at my clothes. I was told I had to wear long pants but it’s hot as fuck. Hope the shirt is okay.”
“You’re fine.” I turned and started back toward my truck, when directly behind me, Wally’s booming voice made me jump.
“Kelsey! I told you to take this paint upstairs three hours ago, it’s probably boiling in the cans!”
“Relax, Walt.” His platinum cohort threw a wrench on the ground. “I’m trying to fix your damn truck. Take the paint up yourself. Your legs broken?”
“I HAVE TO GO TO COMMUNITY SERVICE! I TOLD YOU SIX FUCKING TIMES!”
I had to cover my ears, his voice so loud I felt something pop.
The roommate seemed barely affected. “Okay, Jesus, Walt. Just go.”
I got in the truck, my ears ringing. Apparently Big Walt had inherited his father’s penchant for shouting. He got in beside me and closed the door, dropping his pack on the floor between his feet. As I started down the driveway, Wally closed his eyes and rested his head back, fingers drumming lightly on his thighs when I turned on the radio.
He remained that way as we took the long, winding hill back down to the main road. I wasn’t sure if he was meditating or taking a nap or what, but when ten minutes passed and he’d still said nothing, the awkward silence started to get to me. “How long you lived up at that old place?”
Keeping his eyes closed, Wally huffed. “A while. Sure you noticed it needs a lot of work. Getting it done though.”
“Is it even worth fixing up? Looks pretty old.”
“Believe it or not the structure is solid as fuck. Mostly cosmetic stuff it needs. Kind of a money pit.”
“You doing all the work yourself?”
“I’ve got contractors. Hired a bunch of great people from the area to help out, but I’m doing a lot of it myself. Me and Kelsey. He used to work for me at another hotel. Now he’s gonna work at my new one.”
“You’re gonna turn that place into a hotel?”
“Yup.”
“On the cliffside? Who would come stay there?”
“People who wanna get away from it all. Really get away. I know it’s off the beaten path, but gonna have some work done on the road in too. Make it easier for people to drive up in the winter.”
“So you plan to run it year round?”
“Uh huh.”
“Sounds expensive.”
“You got that right.”
I was silent for a while. I almost said ‘Good thing you can afford it’ but didn’t want to give away that I knew anything about his family. But this news was unsettling. I didn’t believe Wally could pull it off by a long shot. I doubted he’d have any success with a hotel all the way out here, but it still made me anxious. I didn’t need the Cooks moving in on my turf. Why couldn’t they stay in Landing, where they belonged?
Beaver Tail was one of the biggest tourist draws in Gullport. It was my family’s business, our livelihood. I didn’t want to compete with Wally Cook of all people in the hospitality business. And we didn’t need any big fancy hotels here, bringing a bunch of snotty rich assholes into our town, building the place up and ruining the natural landscape.
I was getting ahead of myself. Wally’s property was still just an old heap of a place that looked like a haunted mansion. But I didn’t like that it sounded like he’d be staying in Gullport permanently. “Will you be running the hotel yourself?”
“Yep.”
Fuck. “You think you’d get many guests though? There isn’t much to do in Gullport. No fancy restaurants or shopping.” And it better fucking stay that way.
“When we’re done with the place, it’ll have everything guests need, so they won’t even have to leave the property to have a good time. Putting a gym in, a library. Game room. But most importantly, a bar and restaurant in the back, facing the water. We’ll have live music. Great food. My little brother will handle that part. Gonna drag him away from Landing once the whole thing’s done.”
“You mean Shea?”
He turned and scowled at me. “How do you know Shea?”
“Um...he came to see me this morning. About you.”
“Shea went to see you?”
“Yeah. You didn’t know?”
“He said he was gonna smooth things out with...ah shit. I’m sorry. This is embarrassing but I already forgot your name.”
“It’s Jude. Jude Applegate.”
“Jude. Right. I won’t forget it again, sorry. But I figured Shea would send Terry, my lawyer, to talk to you. Not go himself.”
“No, he came himself. Thinks a lot of you, by the way. He was quite persistent.”
“Yeah.” He stretched his back and yawned. “Wish he’d stop trying to fix my shit all the time, though. He shouldn’t have to deal with that.”
“Guess he just cares about you.”
“He feels guilty is all.”
“Guilty for what?”
Rubbing his eyes, Wally shrugged. “I always looked out for him. Guess he thinks he’s gotta look out for me now, like he owes me or something. But it’s not necessary.”
“He said he owns a restaurant already. In Landing. But he’s gonna run the restaurant at your...hotel?”
“Trying to talk him into it. I’m pretty sure he will. He wants out too.”
“Out of what?”
“I don’t mean to be rude,” he said, “but I don’t really want to talk about my personal business.”
“Oh. Sorry. I was just curious.”
“You’re nosy.”
I did a doubletake at him. “I’m not nosy! I was just making conversation.”
“Well, don’t. I don’t like conversation.”
“Oh, you don’t huh?”
“No, I don’t. So you can quit with the small talk and asking questions about my house that I know you don’t give a shit about. I’m good.”
Christ, and there it was. He was still a fucking brat. He probably thought it made him seem tough now that he was all muscles and messy hair. But I remembered the spoiled little rebel wannabe he was as a kid, and I was not intimidated. “Okay, Walt. That’s all very interesting, but much as I’d appreciate your silence—and I would—you’re going to be working for me. Which will likely require conversation. So get used to it.”
Wally scrubbed fingers through his dark hair and side-eyed me. With a soft chuckle he faced front. “Wow, okay. Job stuff we can talk about, of course. But no more personal questions, nosy.”
“I am not nosy! I asked about your house because we were just there. And I brought up your brother because you mentioned him, and he came to see me this morning. He, however, was actually polite.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Wally said. “Shea turned out better than the rest of us. I’m glad. He deserves it.”
I glanced over.
He looked back at me. “Oh, were you expecting me to be insulted by your oh-so-clever jab about me being impolite? Because I know I’m impolite. But I’m a good worker. I don’t want any trouble.”
“All right.”
“I just want to get this community service bullshit over with. And I’ll work hard because I want to get as many hours in as I can, as quick as I can. I won’t cause any problems. That fuckstain judge has it out for me as it is. He fucked me over and I don’t want to find myself in front of him again. So trust me. You’ll get no trouble from me.”
“Fair enough. Just please remember to keep a lid on the swearing when we get to the property. A lot of kids around in the summer, don’t need them learning the word ‘fuckstain’.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry. I’ll remember that. Anyway, I’m glad Shea went to bat for me.”
“Yeah, your brother was quite charming.”
“I know, he really is.” He smiled, and there was obvious pride in it. “He’s better than me. Better than my other fuckhead brothers by a mile.” His phone bleeped in his pocket and he dug it out. “Oh, speak of the devil.”
“One of your other brothers?”
“Oh, hell no! I never answer when those boring fuckers call. It’s Shea.” He grinned and brought the phone to his ear. “Hey, puke-face. What’s happening?”
I chuckled, unable to help myself. His greeting to Shea reminded me of the way me and Lindy spoke to each other.
“Uh huh. Yeah, I heard. I’m in the car with him now. Yes. Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. Stop worrying.” A long pause, and Wally glanced at me. “Why do you need to talk to him? Oh. Well...what for? I’m not! Shut the fuck up.”
I looked over at Wally, and he was scowling at me.
“He what? You perv. What does that even mean? Gross. You’re such a freak.” Sighing loudly, he rolled his eyes. “Fine. Make it quick then. Okay, love you too.”
I looked over as Wally held the phone out to me. “What?”
“Shea wants to talk to you.”
“Oh.” I took the phone and brought it to my ear. “Hello?”
“You actually followed through. I was worried I hadn’t been convincing enough. Is my brother behaving himself?”
I heard the smile in Shea’s voice and found myself smiling too. “Yeah, it’s all good.”
“Glad to hear it. I apologize in advance if that changes. His moods can turn on a dime.”
“Oh, now you tell me. You were withholding that part when we talked, huh?”
“I had to persuade you, right?”
His flirty tone was back, and I couldn’t help chuckling. “Right. And you did.”
“Listen, Jude, I’ll get right to the point. I was wondering if you’d have dinner with me.”
“Dinner?” I glanced at Wally, who was staring out the window at the passing salt marshes, arms crossed over his chest. “Um...what...what for?”
“Because I’d like to get to know you. Look, I’m taking a leap here, and you can’t see it thank God, but my face is beet red right now. But I felt something when we talked today, and I’ve been thinking about you ever since. Something told me I had to see you again. That never happens to me, so I want to see if it means anything. So...” He took a deep breath, then let out a nervous laugh. “I’m asking you on a date.”
“Oh.” A rush of pleasant surprise blew through me. “What about...” I lowered my voice. “You said...um, something about the lawyer?”
“Right. I said I date Walt’s lawyer. I never said he was my boyfriend. We see other people.”
I was blindsided, had not expected this at all. It had been a long time since I’d been pursued in any measure. Shea was gorgeous, and I was flattered. But I was hesitant to go into this based on the lie that we’d never met before. Especially on the off chance that Shea’s interest in me had something to do with his subconscious mind remembering me protecting him as a kid. But fuck it. That was a long shot. And anyway, so what? We were both adults now. All grown up. Tabula rasa. The past didn’t matter. Bringing up bad memories was not the way to win this man over. And I wanted to, I realized. The butterflies in my stomach assured me of that.
“Okay, yeah, dinner sounds good.”
“Great, you know where Asiago is in Landing?”
“Um...I don’t know. I haven’t been to Landing in a really long time.”
“Used to be called Cook’s Bar and Grill.”
“Oh, okay. Then I do know where it is.”
“Eight o’clock?”
Wally sighed heavily beside me, so I quickly wrapped it up. “Sounds good, Shea. See you then. Bye.” I handed Wally back his phone. “Here you go.”
He continued to stare out the window as he tucked it back in his pocket. I got the strangest feeling he was angry, but I wasn’t sure why.
Didn’t matter. We were almost back at Beaver Tail, and he’d assured me that work would be his focus. That he wanted to get it over with and get his hours in, with no bullshit or small talk. I was good with that. Shit, as far as having to spend the summer with your childhood nemesis went, the situation could have been far worse. It was actually going well so far, considering. With each passing mile, my long-held hate faded, just a little.
Wally was a little gruff and combative, but I wasn’t really fazed by that. Which was odd, considering my near meltdown this morning at the very thought of seeing him. But reality had cast light into the shadows, reminding me that Wally Cook was just a man, and he had no power over me. It was rather anticlimactic after years of wondering what I’d do if I ever saw him again. I used to occasionally fantasize that if I ever saw him again, he’d be taken aback by my solid adult body, no more the skinny quiet kid, the easy target. But he would had to have remembered me for that revenge fantasy to play out, and though I still questioned whether or not he was faking it, he certainly didn’t seem to. Even if he had acknowledged me on sight, that revenge dream would have fallen flat because he was still in way better shape than me.
“This road up here by your motel is shit, you know that?”
I glanced at him. “What do you mean?”
“It turns to mud in the pouring rain. I spun out and hit that beaver thing, totally lost control. You should get some gravel up here or something.”
“You’re actually blaming me for that? You were drunk.”
“Was not. I only had a couple beers. Doesn’t take much to put you over the limit. I’d have made it home fine if not for this stupid road and the rain.”
I pulled into the Beaver Tail entrance, already tired of his bitching and whining. At least I wasn’t finding him attractive anymore. I guess what passed for bold and intriguing when I was thirteen had transformed now that I was an adult. Wally Cook wasn’t exciting and rebellious anymore. He was just cynical and obnoxious.
“Fine,” I said, still trying to play Mr. High Road. “I’ll look into that.”
As I parked the truck, Walt eyed me with a smirk. “So,” he said. “You’re a flamer like my brother, huh?”
On second thought, maybe the hate was still there.