10. STORM

A silver bell above the door announces us as Nick and I walk into Ellie’s Deli, a quaint little shop on Main Street. Like the other storefronts in town, it’s somehow historic and yet in perfect shape at the same time. I suppose the Chamber of Commerce recognizes that tourists come here for the charm, since the town doesn’t offer much in the way of beaches.

A middle-aged woman with short white hair and glasses behind the counter brighten as she sees us.

“Well, slap my tits and call me Sally!” she hoots. “Nick! How’ve you been?”

I like this woman already.

Nick grins sheepishly. “I’m fine, Ellie. How’s things?”

“Peachy keen,” she says, lowering her glasses and giving me the once-over. “And who’s your friend?”

Without thinking, I open my mouth to say my real name. Luckily, Nick speaks first.

“This is Storm,” he says, and I realize with a dart of adrenaline how close I came to making a big mistake.

Ellie takes my offered hand across the glass counter that holds a vast array of meats and cheeses.

“Pleasure,” she smiles. “Any friend of Nick’s is a friend of mine.”

I smile back. “Thank you, that’s very kind.”

“So how do you two know each other?” she asks. It’s a perfectly normal question and I realize I don’t have an answer for it.

“She’s my antiques assessor,” Nick says without looking up from the rack of smoked meats he’s been perusing. “Apparently that old piano that came with my house is worth six figures.”

He lies like a pro. For the hundredth time since we met, I find myself wondering about his past. What led him from Russian immigrant to living alone in that vast mansion on the cliffs? So many questions.

Then again, he probably has just as many about me.

“Is that so?” Ellie says, eyebrows rising. “Gonna get rid of some of those museum pieces, are you? Or are you just updating your insurance?”

Nick joins us at the counter. “I don’t need even a tenth of what I have in that house,” he says casually. “I really should auction the rest off.”

Ellie nods. “Well, you know the Rotary Club is here to help you in any way we can,” she says. “I might even buy a few pieces myself.”

He shakes his head. “If you want something, just let me know, it’s yours.”

Her grin is as affectionate as a grandmother’s. “What am I going to do with you, Nick?” she says. Then she turns her gaze to me. “Nick here has a reputation for generosity, in case you didn’t know. I’d bet my bottom dollar that whatever he gets for his antiques will go to charity, so estimate high, okay?”

“Ellie…” Nick says, frowning.

“Let the woman talk, Nick,” I say in the familiar tone of a significant other. He thrills me by smiling.

“Nick is all swagger and no steel,” Ellie chuckles. “He may look like Josh Brolin after someone ran over his dog, but he’s got a heart of gold. Town council wanted to name a park after him, but he said no.”

I goggle at him, smiling. “Seriously?”

His crimson cheeks are begging me to change the subject, but I’m having too much fun.

“Yes, indeed,” says Ellie. “Doesn’t surprise me that he didn’t tell you anything about himself, though. This one wouldn’t say shit if he had a mouth full of it. Although we all had a good time last year at the Rotary Christmas shindig, didn’t we?”

Nick avoids both our gazes like a shameful dog.

“I suppose we did,” he concedes.

Ellie flashes me a wide grin. “He was at a table with me and Frank – that’s my hubby – and the rest of the board members. Get a few drinks into Nick and he’s almost tolerable.”

Nick manages to smile and frown at the same time, and it makes me want to giggle like a loon.

“You don’t make it easy for a guy to keep up a reputation, Ellie,” he gripes.

“Oh, please,” she says with a dismissive wave. “You’re not scaring anyone with your tough loner act. Just give it up.”

“Yeah, Nick,” I say, grinning. “Give it up.”

He shakes his head. “That does it,” he says with a sigh. “I’m outta here, Ell. You only have yourself to blame.”

“Well, I’m going to buy something,” I say.

The grin he flashes me is maddeningly smug, and I suddenly realize why: I don’t even have a wallet, let alone any cash.

“Are you really?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say, not missing a beat. My extended hand is an unspoken demand for money.

The look on his face is priceless – he didn’t expect me to call his bluff like that. He pulls out his wallet and silently hands me three fifties.

“Thank you,” I say sweetly. “I’m going to stay here and talk to Ellie for a while longer. Meet you back at the car?”

He blinks at me. Looks at Ellie, then back at me. Ellie makes a shooing motion with her hand. “You heard the girl.”

“Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll be at Murphy’s having a beer.”

The bell over the door jingles again as he walks back onto the sun-drenched street and heads south to the pub.

“I don’t know what the deal is with the two of you,” Ellie says as we watch him disappear. “And I’m not going to ask. But whatever it is, I hope you keep it up.”

I cock my head. “Why do you say that?”

“Honey, I’ve known Nick for fifteen years or more, and I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

My heart skips a beat at that, and I feel a glimmer of hope blossoming somewhere deep inside me. But it’s fragile, something that I don’t want to bring into the light, not just yet. After all, my life to this point has been a long, miserable string of disappointments.

Do I dare hope for a future with Nick?

“So he’s not big with the ladies?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

“He’s not anything with the ladies,” she says simply. “You’re the first one I’ve ever seen him with.”

My heart skips another beat. A man who looks like him, with all his money, has never been seen with a woman?

“That – surprises me,” I manage to say.

Ellie’s expression darkens and she sighs. “I think his wife’s death hit him terribly hard,” she says. “When he first came here, he’d talk about her now and then. But he hasn’t mentioned her in years.”

His wife?

“I never understood why he bought that huge place,” she continues. “Poor woman never even got to live in it. She was in the hospital for months before she finally passed.”

She must be able to read the expression on my face, because she says: “He hasn’t told you any of this, has he?”

“No,” I say through numb lips.

She smiles sympathetically. “I’m sorry, honey, I shouldn’t have talked about things that aren’t my business. I’m sure he’ll bring it up in his own time.”

She’s right; I was just a bit surprised by the fact he’d been married before. I don’t even know Nick’s last name yet; why would he have told me about his wife?

Like he said, we have time.

Keep telling yourself that, “Storm.” Maybe you’ll believe it one day.