KELLY AND I never went on her hike. Not that I was surprised. Instead, she came over and stayed the weekend.
Promises of honesty and faithfulness to me followed her explanation about discussing the divorce with Rick over lunch and the two of them seeing a mediator. I wasn’t sure I believed her. After the fiasco night with her parents, I decided I’d step back emotionally. We’d still have sex, but I’d guard my heart again. No reason to risk getting emotional with someone married, even if it was a technicality.
On Thursday night I found myself at the Doghouse in Langley playing pool with Tom Donnely. Or as everyone called him, Donnely. The Donnelys were one of the oldest families on the island, a place where your cred was based on how many decades your family could call this place home. Fisherman, farmers, ship builders, and loggers founded this land, and a few of their descendants still called Whidbey home. My father used to joke one branch of the Donnelys were the missing link between apes and man. It made me laugh at the time, but some days I wondered if his words were truth.
Donnely was a ladies man of the worst kind, but also a loyal and lifelong friend. Shaggy blond hair, light blue eyes and fit, everyone said he was handsome. I knew Maggie thought I slept around, but truth be told, my conquests numbered nothing compared to Tom’s. He worked at the shipyard by day and on the weekends carved things with a chainsaw. He loved to brag about his signature piece being “the spread eagle” and laughed when he explained it was the bird.
Slow winter nights meant the crowd consisted of Tom, me, Olaf the bartender, and a few stragglers sitting at the bar. The woman at the far end of the bar appeared to be doing a crossword or puzzle in the paper. She’d write something, then stop, take a drink and stare at the page for a while, tapping her pen on the bar. I couldn’t see her face, but she was petite, wore glasses, and had her hair in a messy ponytail/bun thing. A giant, gray sweater hung off her shoulders and she wore those tall rain boots girls always wore.
“Hey, you going to take your shot anytime soon?” I asked Tom, who distractedly stared at the brunette at the bar.
Tom turned and gave me his devilish grin. “Oh, I’m about to take my shot.” He gestured over to the bar. “Haven’t seen her before. Fresh bait, ya think? You know what they say about girls who wear glasses.”
“What do they say?” I asked.
“The quiet types are always the most wild in the sack.”
“I don’t think anyone says that besides you.” I couldn’t clearly see the woman at the bar, but since we knew everyone who came in here during the winter, if Tom didn’t know her, she must be new. “Probably a tourist,” I said.
“Perfect. Tourists are the best. Just passing through and wanting some local color.” After putting his cue down on the table, Tom pushed up the sleeves of his green flannel. “I’m going to ask her if she’s ever gone geoduck hunting.”
I rolled my eyes and walked over to our table to grab my pint. Setting the empty glass on the table, I refilled it from the last of the pitcher. Our ritual was to split a pitcher and play some pool. When we finished the pitcher, we went home. It was later than I thought.
Donnely stood at the bar, leaning over to talk into the brunette’s ear. He laughed, but she leaned away from him. If body language meant anything, she wasn’t interested in what he had to offer.
Great. Guess I had to be Donnely’s wingman. Time to step in and either save him from embarrassing himself or save her from Donnely.
“You’ve never heard of a geoduck before?” Tom leered at the woman, his eyes dancing with mischief.
“I haven’t. You say they’re a local delicacy? And you hunt them? Are they similar to Mallards?” she asked.
Oh no. He’d asked her about geoducks. The worst pick-up line in the history of pick-up lines. Unless you weren’t from around here and didn’t know what the hell a geoduck was.
Donnely chuckled. “No, not so much a duck.” When I headed toward the bar, he asked, “John, you wanna help me out here and tell… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name…” He paused.
“Diane.”
“Well, Diane, nice to meet you. I’m Tom Donnely, but you can call me Donnely. This here’s my friend, John. He’s going to explain what a geoduck is, unless you want us to show you.”
I cringed at his words. I cringed even more when the woman turned on her bar stool. He was right about Diane being new around here: she was Maggie’s tenant.
Maggie’s tenant, who Donnely was propositioning.
Great.
“Hi, Diane. We meet again.”
Donnely swung his head to examine Diane and me. “Hey, I thought you said you’d never seen her before.”
“Diane’s renting Maggie’s cabin for the winter,” I said. “We met last week. How’s the wood stove working?”
Diane stared at me, but dipped her head as if she was embarrassed. “It’s great. Now. Thanks for all your help the other morning. I’ll never forget to open the flue again.”
Tom grumbled about me keeping secrets, but I ignored him. “Good to hear. You settling in?”
“I am. I decided to get out of the house and see a movie at the Clyde. This was the only place open after the movie let out.”
“The island is pretty dead during the winter. You have to know where to look for action,” Tom said. “Speaking of action, I was telling Diane here about the island tradition of the geoduck hunt. She sounded interested—”
“Hold on,” Diane interrupted, “I never said I was interested in duck hunting. Just asked what type of duck a geoduck is.”
I could hear Olaf chuckling over by the register, his gray beard bobbing. He shook his head when he strolled over to us. “Miss, ain’t no type of duck involved. Geoducks are clams. And they look like tallywackers. These boys are being rude. Tom, you should apologize.”
For an old salt, Olaf didn’t take to any tomfoolery or disrespecting women in his place. He could make you feel about fourteen with a few words. We called him O for short, which he tolerated. Barely.
Diane stared at Donnely. Then gaped at me. I shrugged my shoulders. “Don’t be mad at me. You didn’t give me the chance to explain.”
Tom wasn’t deterred. “Didn’t mean to be rude, O. I was trying to introduce Diane to some local traditions. Now that I know she’ll be living here, there’s plenty of time to get to know each other.”
Diane blinked a few times, studying the three of us. The laughter that burst from her lips surprised me—loud, almost a cackle—and her face lit up with the sound. After a moment or two while we all stood there silently watching her laugh, she composed herself.
“Did you just ask me in some weird island, backwoods way to see your penis?” she asked Donnely, wiping her eyes free of the small tears collected in her lashes.
I couldn’t help but laugh then. She’d completely put Donnely and his juvenile attempts at seduction in their place. I could like Diane. Somewhere under the messy hair and dumpy sweater hid a feisty woman.
Donnely shook his head. “It was more of an ice breaker. Wanted to see what kind of woman you are.”
“Does that line ever work?” she asked.
Olaf interjected, “You’d be surprised how many times a woman has been lured down to the beach with talk of geoducks. Never happens to the same woman twice, nor does it happen to locals. I’m sure Tom here was sussing out if you were local. Weren’t you, Tom?”
Calling Donnely “Tom” meant the equivalent of your grandfather dragging you out back by your ear. Leaning my elbow on the bar, I enjoyed watching Tom squirm.
“Sure, O. Sure. Diane seems like the kind of girl who appreciates a direct approach and a man who can make her laugh.”
“I really did need the laugh, thank you, Tom.”
“Call me Donnely. In fact, if you give me your phone, you can call me anytime you want.”
He was relentless. Normally I’d sit back and watch Donnely dig himself into a hole deep enough to find a geoduck, but knowing Diane was somehow connected to Maggie made me feel protective of her.
“Donnely, enough,” I said. “The woman just moved here. We don’t want to scare her away.” I smiled at her.
She stared into my eyes and gave me a small smile.
I noticed her eyes were light brown and rimmed with long dark lashes. Too late I realized I was staring, too, and glanced away.
“It’s been nice meeting you, Donnely and John. Well, meeting you again, John.” She acted flustered and her words jumbled together as she reached for her purse. “I’m going to head out. Maybe I’ll see you here again.”
“If you’re living next to John, you’ll see us again no matter what,” Donnely said.
“Lucky girl,” Olaf said, wiping down the bar. His tone clearly indicated he didn’t mean it. We weren’t such bad guys and he knew it; even if we did have reputations for playing the field as he called it. It wasn’t easy to be an islander and be single. Most people moved off the island after high school and never came back. Or returned married with the spouse and kids in tow for the summer.
Or your high school crush moved away, got divorced, and reentered your life. Only she wasn’t divorced.
Shaking away my frustration, I tuned back in to hear Diane saying her good-byes as she put on her coat. Donnely was putting on his charming smile and trying to get her to stay for another beer, but she refused.
I grabbed my jacket from our table, then put our empties on the bar, said good-bye to the guys, and followed her out.
“Since we’re going the same way, I’ll follow you home. Roads are kind of slick tonight,” I offered, figuring I needed to show her I was a grownup and not a perpetual horny teen like Donnely.
Scanning around, I noticed Diane stood in front of Bessie.
“Maggie’s letting you drive Bessie?” I asked in disbelief. Maggie didn’t let anyone drive her vintage MG. Except Gil. Bastard.
Diane bit her lip. “She reluctantly offered the car when she learned I didn’t have one. I promised her I’d get a car ASAP, but I haven’t yet. And I swear I only drive it in good weather.”
Seeing her nervousness, I covered my shock. “Maggie must trust you. I love this little car, but you can’t be driving it around on icy roads. You need a real car.”
She sighed and I could see her breath when she exhaled. The road sparkled with ice crystals. The little convertible wasn’t road worthy this time of year.
“I know I need to buy a car, but don’t laugh, I’ve never bought one before. Being the stereotypical woman who gets ripped off at the car dealership isn’t high on my list of life goals right now. I promise I’ll do it soon. Once I find the strength to face the used car salesman.”
“I could help you. Go with you even. Some of those car salesmen are assholes, but I know a guy who’d give you an honest deal,” I said before I thought the offer through properly.
She appeared taken aback. “Really?” she asked. “You don’t know me or owe me. If anything, I owe you for saving me from your friend back there.”
“Aw, Donnely’s harmless. He has no bite.”
“I’ll take your word on it.” She laughed. “Okay, you don’t appear to be the type of guy to invite me to see your dick clam, so sure, I’d be stupid to not accept your offer.”
I swallowed my shock at the word ‘dick’ coming out of her mouth. “Dick clam?” I laughed. “You’re funny.”
“I try.” She laughed, too. “You’ll help me buy a car?”
“Sure. Let me give my buddy a call and see what he has. Anything you want in particular?”
I swear her eyes flicked down to my jeans and up over my jacket before settling on my face. Did she check me out?
“Reliable. Something reliable and sturdy. No fancy bells and whistles. And I don’t have a job, so I can’t do a loan. Cash only.”
“Okay. Cash only. Sturdy, reliable, straightforward. I think we can work with that.” We were talking about cars. Pretty sure we were only talking about cars. “I’ll stop by this week and give you an update. In the meantime, no driving Bessie on the ice. The top leaks, so you might want to avoid taking her out in the rain, too.”
“In other words, I’m screwed.”
“Pretty much.” I smiled. “But if you need a ride or anything, I’m right next door.”
The cold must have gotten to her because she bounced on her toes and blew warm air over her glove covered fingers.
“You’re freezing. Let’s head home. Unless you want to leave Bessie here and ride with me.”
“No, I’m fine to drive. I had a pint of cider. I’m good.”
We said goodbye and I got in my truck, blasting the heat to defrost the windows as I kept an eye on Diane in Bessie. I followed her home like I said I would, musing over the little things she revealed about herself tonight. Handling Donnely topped the things I liked about Diane so far. My new neighbor was turning out to be more interesting than I first imagined.
A few days later I called Steve, an old high school friend and one of the best mechanics ever. Steve sold cars on the side and could be counted on for all of Diane’s requirements of inexpensive, sturdy, and reliable. After telling him Diane was driving Bessie in the winter, and after he finished cursing about British cars, he said he had a Jeep Cherokee that could work. If I’d help him change the oil, Diane could come see it over the weekend.
Despite Donnely’s joking about calling Diane, neither of us got her number that night, so I left her a note on the door telling her I’d found her a Jeep and my cell number.
Saturday morning found me on my back under the transmission of Diane’s potential car, changing the oil. I didn’t mind getting dirty. Hell, I preferred dirt to a suit any day.
Steve’s voice carried over the loud classic rock in his garage. The softer tones of a woman’s voice responded. Diane. She refused my offer to give her a lift to Steve’s, insisting she wanted to bring Bessie in for a tune up after driving her in the winter.
I could see Diane’s boots standing to the side of the car while Steve told her about it.
“You fall asleep under there, John?” Steve asked, kicking my work boot.
After securing the oil cap, I slid the creeper out from under the front bumper and gazed up, blinking under the brighter light. Diane stared, but not at my face. I tilted my head up to see the top of my boxers and happy trail exposed. My T-shirt had ridden up, exposing my stomach above my jeans, and I gave her a show.
Slowly drawing her eyes up to my face, I met her stare and raised an eyebrow in question. “Like what you see, sweetheart?”
Busted for checking me out, she quickly turned her head toward Steve and asked him about the tires. She didn’t turn her face quick enough, though. Her cheeks had reddened. Lady liked what she saw.
Standing up, I grabbed a rag to wipe the grease from my hands before turning down the music.
“What do you think?” I asked.
She glanced down and her eyes swept up my body. “About what?” she asked, sounding confused.
I gestured at the car. “The Jeep? The one right next to you? Sturdy, reliable, four wheel drive, and since you are a friend of mine, and get the discount, cheap.”
“It’s big. Do I need something that big?”
“It’s not that big. You need something with four wheel drive for the mud and ice. Not that we ever get much snow, but we could get a freak storm. Mud is a given. Want to take it for a ride?”
She nodded and Steve tossed the keys to her.
During our short drive, Diane admitted she was out of practice driving after living in New York so long. Car service and cabs had been her usual transportation. I teased her that driving was like sex. Didn’t matter how much time passed in between, you still remembered where everything went.
I expected her to laugh, but she stayed quiet and turned around to head back to Steve’s.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to insult you,” I apologized.
She nodded and then said, “You didn’t. You don’t know me well enough to know the intimate details of my sex life. Or lack thereof. It was a joke. I get it. No problem.”
Her words lacked conviction. Obviously it was a problem. I was used to keeping things light with women. A joke here, an innuendo there, flirting a must. Clearly Diane wasn’t the typical woman I met. It would be trickier to figure her out. Ogling my abs one minute, being chaste about a sex joke the next. Hot. Cold. Confusing. I backed out of friend territory and into neighborland.
“You think this will work for you? Steve’s giving you a good deal, and if anything goes wrong, he should be able to fix it.” I wanted to make things less awkward by focusing on the task at hand.
“It’s perfect. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. It’s what islanders do for each other.”
“Can I return the favor? I can cook dinner for you. Or buy pizza. I’m not the best cook, so you might want to opt for the pizza.”
“I eat pizza. Sure. You can buy me pizza as a thank you. Then we’re even. Got it?”
She nodded. “Say when and where. I can even drive us.” She smiled and patted the dash. “Same gray color as your truck. I need to name it. Any ideas?”
“Only Maggie names her cars, so I’m not going to be much help there. Let me know what you decide.”
We arrived back at Steve’s, and I left them to sort out the financials with a promise of pizza soon.
My phone pinged with a text message from Kelly when I got back into the truck cab.
*Don’t forget Valentine’s Day is next weekend.*
How could I forget? She’d been reminding me for what felt like forever. Chicks and Valentine’s Day. I didn’t get it. What’s the point in putting all this pressure onto a random day in February? To sell chocolates and flowers? Sure, I’d buy her something, but I’d rather skip the whole thing. Unless I bought her lingerie. That was a gift for me. Then again, she’d probably figure it out and get mad.
What was supposed to be fun and hot sex, evolved into the opposite of fun. What was the opposite of fun? Work. Kelly had become a lot of work.