Chapter 8

TWO seconds later, the water stopped. Just stopped. We both head-snapped toward the offending hose—and past it to where Bob stood, his hand on the switch. His mouth twitched with the effort not to laugh.

“You turn the water pump off, it’ll stop,” he said.

Jason and I both sucked air, and as we faced each other again, I was suddenly acutely aware of his arms around me and the fact that I was sprawled against him. I let go of the limp hose and pushed myself awkwardly off him, till I could sit. In water. But there reaches a point when you can’t get any wetter.

“Holy crap,” I sputtered.

Bob gave in and let out the laugh. “I heard the screams, thought I’d come check.”

“That was him,” I said, pointing.

Jason sat up and gave me a look, then managed a laugh through his recovery. He swiped a hand through his wet hair, then got to his feet. He held out a hand for me, but I was already on my way up, courtesy of the minnow tank.

“What a mess,” I said. “Is there a drain in here?” I surveyed the concrete floor.

“There is, but it’s old. It’ll drain slow,” Bob said as he pointed at some random holes.

“It’s done this before?” Jason asked.

“Once or twice.”

“Great.”

Bob and Jason surveyed the water pump and the health status of the shrimp while I plucked up random floating garbage.

“I’m gonna run home and shower this funk off me if you don’t mind,” I said, drawing attention back to me. “You should, too, this reeks.”

I pointed to his soaked clothes that clung to his body. Then following his gaze, I looked down at myself and instantly brought my arms up. My drenched thin white shirt and equally thin white bra now outlined everything. In vivid detail.

Bob quickly excused himself and wobbled away, while Jason, who was only a foot away, lifted his gaze to my face.

“That might be a good idea. Need a jacket?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Cute. No, thanks. I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

But then he raised a hand to my hair, which temporarily paralyzed me until he pulled away a shrimp whisker.

“Oh God.” I cringed and attacked my hair.

“Wait.” He brushed fingers against my right cheek. “Was that me or the hose?”

I touched the bruise gingerly. “Same guy that got you.”

Taking his cue of brave moves, I touched the side of his neck softly where a giant red welt raised.

“It’s okay, I’m good.”

“Hit you pretty hard.”

He smiled. “I’ll live.” His eyes fell to my shirt again, which this time was only inches away. “Go get changed.”

I slogged into the house, met by Bo and his very curious nose. He stuck to my leg as I stopped short at the foot of the stairs, when I noticed Riley curled up in my dad’s ragged brown recliner.

“Hey, boog, whatcha doin’?”

She looked up from the album in her lap, and then did a double take. “My God, Mom, did you fall in the river?” Then she put a hand to her nose. “Or the sewer?”

“Neither. The shrimp vat had some issues. Why are you still home?”

“Am I not supposed to be?”

Bojangles let out a loud snort against my thigh, then swung his tail hard as he appeared to grin up at me.

“Don’t you work now?”

“At noon.” She gestured toward an old wall pendulum clock. “It’s only eight fifteen, Mom.”

I rubbed my face and winced at the contact with my cheek. “Is that all?” I pointed at the yellowish brown photo album. “What’s this?”

She shrugged. “Thought I’d blow some time with a nostalgia kick, but this one was on top of the other ones.” She nodded toward the wall of shelves that had every nuance of our lives. “Don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

Neither did I. And I had made them all. The one she held was older and unfamiliar.

“What’s in it?”

She flipped a few pages carefully. “Most of them are black and white. Old people pictures.”

“Really?” I sat on the arm, then remembered my state and got back up.

She flipped back. “Looks like Pop when he was young, see? And your mom?”

Funny how calling her Grandma or something similar was as foreign to Riley as “Mom” was to me. Hard to name someone you’ve never met.

I’d seen old pictures of my parents before, even a few of these pictures. But not in an album like this, with notes and comments like my baby album had.

“Put it in my room when you’re done, okay? I want to look at it later.”

“When you’re not covered in shrimp slime?”

“Pretty much.”

Bo jammed his nose into my crotch right then, and that was enough.

“Seriously! Go eat something!”

I must have been at least semi-menacing, because he semi-ducked.

“Hey, can I go hang out with Grady after work?”

“Grady?”

“Mm-hmm.” She continued to slow-turn the pages. I stood there and waited her out. “I’m not gonna look up for you to make this cute, so you may as well give it up.”

“Then you don’t want to go badly enough.”

That got me the look I so richly deserved. “Mom?”

“There, I feel better now.”

“God, you’re so weird.”

My shower was too quick to really enjoy, but I refused to throw my hair up and go again. I blew it out and dressed at least in jeans. Then grabbed the mascara on the way out.

Of course, Alex waited at my car. I looked back over my shoulder.

“Riley’s in there.”

He held up his hands. “And I’m not doing circus tricks.”

“Well then, feel free to get in, because I’ve got to get back to work.”

I grimaced as my door groaned so loudly I thought it might jump off and die.

“Such dedication,” Alex said with a grin as he just—ended up in the front seat. I prayed that Riley didn’t see that.

“So—bored today, are you?”

He looked me over with that sideways sexy way of his and I tried not to listen to my libido.

“Aren’t you just all fresh and perky for work in the middle of the morning?” he asked, then frowned as he leaned forward. “What happened to your face?”

I putzed down the gravel road that led off the property. “The shrimp vat blew a hose and flooded the bait room. I was in the way.”

“I didn’t realize you had such a dangerous job,” he said with a crooked grin.

“Me, either,” I said on a laugh. “Ugh, the whole back is drowned in funk.”

“Was it just you?”

“Me and Jason.”

I refused to look. I swear, I felt his eyebrows raise, and I wouldn’t look at him. It reminded me of Riley just moments earlier, and suddenly I felt her pain.

“Jason. That was the Nazi, right?”

I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. “Yeah.”

There was a pause. “You didn’t look this good the first go-round this morning.”

I frowned at him. “Thanks. And you weren’t here this morning.”

He shrugged and looked forward. “Hmm.”

I shook my head. “Some people call that stalking, you know.”

“They don’t have a sense of adventure.”

I laughed. “Oh, okay.”

We were nearly to the shop when a memory hit me.

“Hey, remember those old family pictures? Of my mom and dad?”

He pulled out his sunglasses and put them on. God help me. “In your box?”

“No, the other ones. They were just loose. Come to think of it, I never did know where they came from. I guess my dad just had them out—handed them to me.” I shook my head. “I can’t remember.”

“Don’t know. Why?”

I flipped a hand to wave it off. “Riley just had an old album I don’t remember seeing before.”

Alex looked at me. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm. I’ll check it out tonight if I don’t fall into a coma first.”

He randomly touched buttons on the dashboard console that did nothing. “So, what’s the deal with Jason?”

“He’s my boss.”

“And?”

I feigned major interest in a road sign. “There is no and. That’s all.”

I felt his eyes bore a hole in the side of my head, but I swore to hold out. My right ear started to twitch.

“Hmm.”

Thankfully, we arrived, and in typical Alex fashion, he gave me a sideways almost smile and walked around the side of the building as I went in. I took a deep breath and pulled my head back to the world everyone else lives in. I strolled in for the second time that morning and threw a casual smile out to Jason and two female customers who were clearly throwing pheromones to him.

“I’m back. You can go.”

The ladies turned around with an expression like I’d just killed their dog. They were obviously immune to the smell. Jason looked a little grateful for the interruption, which I had to laugh about a little inside.

“They want to book a fishing trip for their boyfriends,” he said, nodding at the schedules he had on the counter. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

He gave me a once-over as he began his exit. “You look better this time around.”

Geez. “Get going, will you?”

He laughed and was out the door before the two women could bat their highly packed eyelashes.

“Okay,” I asked, “So are the guys serious fishermen, or just want to go have a good time?”

I got blankness.

“If it’s serious, they won’t have a good time?” the blonde with pink stilettos finally asked.

“Of course. If they are into the fishing, that in itself is a good time,” I responded. “But if they aren’t into meticulous fishing and high-tech tips, and want something more casual and laid back, then I’ll know how to match them with a guide.” Yin or yang. Jiminy or Hank.

“Mark’ll want the real deal,” the brunette with drawn eyebrows and D cups said as she fished out a red leather wallet from her Dior clutch. “He can do casual on his own.”

“Yeah, whatever,” said the blonde. “Tony’ll roll with it.”

I nodded and pulled Jiminy’s book out on top. “Will this be paid together or separate?”

Brunette looked at blonde. “I’ll get this, and you get the body wrap and wax this afternoon.”

“Cool.”

“Cool,” I echoed. Wow.

I took care of three more bait orders, which I did very carefully since the room still had about an inch of standing water. Then I had a bright idea to aim an oscillating fan down that hallway to send the smell the other direction. Jason would think that was smart.

And that thought halted me as I stooped to plug it in. Why did I care what Jason thought? Maybe because being sprawled on top of him earlier was the closest thing I’d had to sex in years. Maybe I needed to break the other hose.

Lord.

Jiminy came by. Lisa Marlow and her giant son came by, which was actually helpful because without Jason, I needed some muscle to move some feed. Fifteen other people came by. Still no Jason.

After two hours, I started to wonder. Was he so high maintenance that it took him that long to get ready? Surely not. Was he the type to ditch responsibility and think of ten other things to do before returning? He didn’t strike me as irresponsible. He struck me as anal. He was so OCD on rules and procedures, I couldn’t imagine he’d just bail.

I didn’t have his cell phone number. Well, I guess technically I did somewhere on a random piece of paper from the fender bender. But I wouldn’t be able to find that again if my life depended on it. I dug around the counter a little, looked on the board by the register, for a Post-it or something that might sport his number. Nothing.

Three o’clock, my quitting time, came and went. Something was definitely not right.

I picked up the phone to let Riley know I’d be late—when there it was on speed dial.

JM HOME

“Well, kiss my ass.”

My elation was short-lived, however, because the number rang unanswered till it rolled to voice mail.

“Jason. Leave a message.”

“Hello? This is Dani. That’s one heck of a shower you took. Are you okay? Are you even hearing this?”

Crap.

I went ahead and called Riley and Dad, then dialed Jason at least twenty more times as I fumbled with the afternoon register report and counted the money. Because the later it got, and the more empty ringtones I listened to, the more agitated I got. And the more worried I got. Not sure why I was worried about a man I barely knew, except that it seemed very out of character from what I could tell.

My mommy paranoia began to build, with images of his pristine pampered car rolled into the river, or wheels up in the big ditch around the corner. I worried he would boil to death in a too-hot shower. Lying there alone. Wet. And naked.

And that’s when I knew just how pathetic I’d become. And that I was closing early at—I glanced at my watch—4:24.

I checked the bait vats and sloshy floor, kept the fan on, bagged the report and the money, put it in the safe I’d been told about under threat of death and dismemberment by Marg, and locked the door behind me. Anyone in need of bait or feed or Miss Olivia’s soaps that desperately in the next hour and a half needed a life more than I did.

Halfway down Jason’s road, my stomach tightened. What did I expect to find? What right did I even have to go check? When the boat and car came into view, however, my head went back to the shower scene. And not the pleasant version.

“SHIT.”

I slammed my car into park, ignoring its rock-and-roll groan, and broke into a trot down the narrow dock. There was an old bell on a pull string on a wooden pole. My hands shook as I yanked on it, sending the thing into a frenzy. I already had the next plan in play as I scoped out the boarding ramp leading to his door.

I abandoned the useless bell—because obviously if he was dead or dying, what the hell good would the stupid bell do—I boarded the ramp, crawled over the rail, and gave one cursory look toward the water as I knocked and grabbed the lever at the same time.

The door swung open out of my hand as I recoiled and just about swallowed my tongue.

“Jesus, Dani, what the hell?”

Jason stood there with a wild and somewhat bewildered expression.

“Um, exactly!” I sputtered.

“What?”

I rubbed at my face and then patted my chest, telling my heart to slow down.

“Shit, I thought something happened to you. I thought you died in the shower or something.” Then I caught a whiff and wrinkled my nose. “Then again—”

His face went dark and he turned from the doorway. “I never made it there.”

Okay. Didn’t know bathing was so stressful. I felt awkward and uninvited there in the doorway, as he fiddled with mail on the table. A quick look around told me that it wasn’t a typical bachelor pad on a boat. He’d made it a home. The small wooden table to the right held a three-wick candle in a pewter bowl. A tray of mail and a brown paper–wrapped package sat to one end. Built-in shelves framed a window, and held a multitude of books and pictures. Beyond that appeared to be a small efficient kitchen, and the walls I could see from where I stood sported a variety of more photographs. Black and white, mostly.

I blew out a breath and backed up a little. I was bewildered by the whole scenario. He was there all day, changing from Jekyll to Hyde instead of cleaning up. He wouldn’t answer his phone. He didn’t come back to work.

“Whatever,” I said, flailing a hand as I turned. “Glad you’re alive. See you later.”

“Hang on,” he said, his back still to me. His tone was irritable, as if he’d really rather I not hang on.

“It’s good, Jason.” I headed for the rail.

“Dani.”

It was just my name, but the tone and reverberation of it made me turn. His expression made me stay there.

His eyes were red and angry, his jaw hard. He looked as if every nerve ending might pop all at once. But behind the anger was something almost palpable, even from several feet away. Something raw.

He gestured jerkily toward the door. “You can come in if you want.”

Did I want? Hell, I had no idea anymore.

“Um—”

“Please.”

I met his eyes and frowned slightly. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head and motioned for me to come in again. Crap. I walked past him slowly, past the festered shrimp funk, and looked around again. There wasn’t much more to see except a hallway that I assumed led to bed and bath. From that angle, there was another wall of built-ins with doors. The whole thing was a genius use of space, giving a sense of more than was really there.

Jason shut the door and rubbed at his face and hair absently, shoving a lock of hair up. I thought he looked disheveled back in the bait room, but he was definitely on a downslide.

“What’s going on? Why didn’t you answer the phone?”

He reflexively looked down at his cell clipped to his jeans.

“No, your home phone. I couldn’t find your cell.”

“I wasn’t here,” he said. “I just got here about ten minutes before you did.”

I opened my mouth to ask the next obvious question, but he held out a hand.

“Can you give me a minute?” He reached behind his neck and pulled his shirt off before I could blink. “I need to go get this off me, I can’t stand it anymore.”

I just nodded. My tongue tied itself in knots at the sight of him shirtless. He was muscled and hot and at that moment I didn’t even care if he’d rolled in pig manure first.

“Just—sit down.” He motioned to a comfortable chair in front of a TV. “I’ll be back in a second, and I’ll explain it all.”

“Okay.”

Not that I had many options. I could leave, but then I’d miss the encore. And I cared much less about where he’d been all day than I did about seeing him come out shirtless and clean and smelling good. Maybe even in a towel.

“Jesus, Dani, get a grip,” I mumbled as I sank into the chair.

Water came on down the hall, and my eyes fell on one of the photographs across the room. A black-and-white one of a little boy gazing out a window. I got up for a closer look. Same dark hair, intense eyes staring out at the world. To the right of that photo was another one of the same boy, grinning at the camera with construction-paper bunny ears.

As I moved around the room, to the wall photos, the framed ones on the shelves, all the pictures contained some version of Jason’s son. Alone, with friends, with grandparents, with Jason. Nothing with his mother, I noticed.

I stepped around the table and my hip nudged the package. When I moved it back, I noticed it was addressed in black Sharpie from Jason to Connor Miller in Kenington. That was about an hour west of Restin. An equally black stamp RETURN TO SENDER was plastered across it.

“Oh no,” I said softly as I ran my fingers over the offending words. I didn’t know the details, but I was pretty sure this was the root of it.

I picked up a framed photograph of the two of them in baseball uniforms, Jason’s arm across his son’s shoulders. Jason was evidently the coach, and they posed all serious and manly.

“That’s the last picture we took together.”

I whirled around and jumped so hard I was lucky not to drop it.

“Shit, you scared me.” I returned the frame to the shelf, careful to fit it back to the faint shape in the dust. “Sorry, didn’t mean to snoop.”

He was shirtless again, God help me, in a pair of jeans, barefoot, and his hair still damp.

“Actually, when people say that, they just didn’t mean to get caught.”

I held up my hands. “Swear to God, I didn’t steal anything. Your photos just sucked me in.” I motioned around the room. “I love pictures.”

He nodded and walked to the fridge. “All I have is water and orange juice. Want something?”

“I’m fine.”

He snatched a bottle of water for himself and took a long swig, then looked at me.

“Time got away from me today, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I just have an overactive mind, I guess.”

His eyes narrowed. “You were actually worried about me?”

I felt my neck heat up. “I was concerned. You did get walloped with a pissed-off hose today, after all.”

A small smile softened his face. “Well, thank you for the concern, then. How’s the bait room?”

“Still a little soggy, but better.”

Jason nodded absently. His face went dark again as he ambled toward the table. He touched the name written on the package and landed heavily in the nearest chair.

I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Leave him with his thoughts? Sit down with him? Offer a body massage? I pulled out a chair and sat.

“I didn’t believe it when his present showed up back here today,” he said finally, not looking up. “Thought there had to be an explanation.”

I waited.

“I was there day before yesterday. He was distant but at least past hating me. I told him something special was on the way.” He ran a hand across the package. “I couldn’t wait for him to get it. Then it showed up here.”

“Did you call?” I asked.

“Yeah. Told him happy birthday and that for some reason his gift came back.”

“Didn’t he understand that?”

“He hung up.” Jason’s jaw tightened. “Shocked the hell out of me. I called over and over and finally got his mother. She said she’d sent it back because he didn’t want it.”

I closed my eyes. That wouldn’t be good.

“So, I just got in the car and went there. Just like I was—not thinking. He was at a swimming party with a few kids and of course I embarrassed him.”

“He’ll get over that.”

“I won’t,” he said flatly. “He used to be so proud to be with me. He was my little man. We were tight. And now—he’s so angry. He was embarrassed of me.”

“It’s the age,” I attempted.

“No. It’s his mother.” He looked back down at his hands. “When we first split a year ago, he was okay. Sad, but okay. They moved to Texas to be closer to her family, so I followed to be closer to him.”

“Understandable.”

“Something happened after that. He won’t take my calls. And she won’t talk to me about it. I don’t know what the deal is; they’re both avoiding me.”

I smelled a new man in the picture.

“Do you think he’s just mad about the divorce?” I asked. “I mean, sometimes kids act out and then blame the one who left.”

“I didn’t leave. She did.”

I bit my lip. “Oh. Sorry.”

“He might not realize that, though. I tried to make it easy on everyone. I never made a fuss over it. I didn’t fight her. Maybe I should have. Maybe he thinks I didn’t care.”

“Jason, I’m sure he knows—”

“Really? How are you sure?”

I was taken aback. “What?”

He shook his head and rose from his chair. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I’ve never told anyone my private business.”

I frowned. “I didn’t ask you to tell me anything. I was just listening.”

“Well, I’m sorry I bothered you with it.”

Clearly, I was dismissed. “Bother me? I’m getting whiplash right now. That’s bothering me.”

He rubbed at his eyes. “I’m not good company right now. It’s been a long day.”

I glared up at him and got up. “Really now?” I dug my keys from my pocket and turned for the door. “Sorry for your day.”

I was out and down the ramp and across the dock before he could say another word. I kicked myself for caring. For feeling bad for him. For letting my guard down.

I threw my car into gear and drove the minute around the cove to my dad’s house, blind with annoyance. Bojangles met me at the door again, but he didn’t get the love he wanted.

“Men are pigs, Bo. No offense.” He didn’t look offended.

No one was home yet, and that was a good thing. I needed to unwind. Look at that album, maybe take a nap. But it wasn’t in the living room or on the shelves. It wasn’t in my room or Riley’s.

“What the hell?”

Irritated but too tired to spend more time on the chase, I flopped onto the living room couch. I only remember one or two thoughts before I succumbed to the black hole. And both of them involved Jason.

I awoke to the smell of cornbread, but I couldn’t pull myself out. Lack of sleep had a firm grip on me and it tugged me back down. It took Riley’s laughter in the distance to finally pull me out of my coma. I sat up and got my bearings, which threw me when the windows were all dark.

I wandered into the kitchen to see my dad ladling chicken gumbo into bowls for Riley and Grady. Oh yeah. Memory dawned. Hanging out after work. God, I felt like I’d slept for a year.

“Hey.”

All three heads turned my way.

“Hey, sweetheart,” my dad said, nodding my direction. “My gosh, what did you do?”

I rubbed at my face and winced at the bruise. “Oh yeah. Little equipment malfunction at work.”

He put down his ladle to come tip my chin up like I was eight and peer at my war wound. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, just finally gave in to sleep deprivation, I guess. God, I feel drugged.”

“Hey, Mrs. Shane,” Grady said as he waved a spoon at me. “Riley invited me to eat.”

I gave him a thumbs-up. “Cool.” I remembered the album. “Hey, Ri, what did you do with that album today?”

“Put it in your room,” she said around a sneaked bite of cornbread.

“I didn’t see it.”

Riley shrugged, and I was too foggy to care. I grabbed a bowl and decided I needed sustenance. I went out on the front porch with it and a glass of sweet tea and settled into the swing. I breathed in some of the best night air we’d had in a long time. Dry and humidity free. A full moon lit up the porch. It was beautiful.

“Yes, it is.”

I turned to my left to see Alex against the rail.

“You read minds, now?”

“Just a guess.” He pushed off and came to join me on the swing carefully. “It’s a great night.”

I took a big bite of butter-soaked cornbread. “To follow up a sucky day.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Men are assholes.”

Alex started to laugh. “Cut to the point, there.”

“It is what it is.”

He looked down wistfully. “Supper looks good.”

“Mm-hmm. Dad’s gumbo is the best.”

“I miss food.”

I looked at him. “Can you smell it?”

He shook his head. “No, but I remember smelling it. Tastes. Touch.” He met my eyes.

I swallowed, and it had nothing to do with the food. We sat in comfortable silence as I ate, and I couldn’t help but wish for that in a real way.

“Did you used to do this sort of thing with your wife?”

Alex looked at me like I’d sprouted wings. We never talked about his life much. Or at all, really. It always turned back to me.

“What?”

“This.” I held my hands out. “Just being together sharing space.”

He smiled and looked off where the darkness soaked up the trees, lost in his memories, I guessed.

“Yeah, I guess we did. We had a back patio we used to sit on. We’d put bird food out and watch the birds and squirrels fight it out.”

I was stunned. A piece of Alex’s life. I was almost afraid to acknowledge it for fear he’d realize the blunder and stop. He caught me staring and did a double take.

“What?”

I looked away and laughed lightly. “Nothing. You just—never talk about that.”

“About birds?”

I gave him a look. “You know what I mean.”

He let out a sigh and looked away again. “That was so long ago, Dani.” He got up slowly. “Walk with me.”