Almost a Bride, page 14
“Fine. We only have about a week before I’m due back in New York and Nana has so many boxes up there that I don’t think have been opened in decades.” She picked at the yellow paint that had dried on the back of her hand and mustered up some courage. “Why don’t you go grab a shower at your place...your other place...and I’ll shower and change here, then we can maybe grab a bite at The Grill.”
It wasn’t a date. She wasn’t asking him out on one. It was a simple dinner because he was hungry. A non-date.
You’re lying to yourself.
“Sure,” he said, without looking up from folding one of the ladders. His tone affirmed that it wasn’t a date. He barely sounded interested.
“Cool.”
“You go ahead. I’ll put the ladders away and meet you back here in thirty minutes. Does that work? Let Laddie out so he can come home with me.”
Thirty minutes to get ready for a non-date. It wasn’t much. If she wore her good jeans, as opposed to a dress or shorts, she wouldn’t have to shave her legs.
“Sounds good. See you later.”
She took the brushes inside and started rinsing them out in the kitchen sink as fast as she could, glancing once or twice at the paint-sprinkled face of her watch. Darn it. She’d forgotten to take it off. She’d be able to scrape the paint off the face, but her watch band was ruined.
She rushed the brush rinsing, then set them in a pitcher of water to keep them from drying out. She’d rinse them a little more later. Right now, she needed to shower and change. Why didn’t she just tell Gray she needed ten extra minutes? Everyone knew long hair was harder to dry. She’d have to skip that part, too. She made sure the kittens had fresh food and water, then headed for the bathroom.
The shower was only lukewarm because she couldn’t wait for the hot water to flow and the bedroom she’d sorted through yesterday was now littered with every item of clothing from her suitcase. She settled on the black jeans and silky, floral print tank-style top, clipped her hair up in a messy bun and dabbed some tinted gloss to her lips. The woman she saw in the mirror was average and, if she could see past the surface, insecure and confused, but she could pass as confident and sexy enough for a night out. Maybe. That’s why her job interview had gone well. She knew how to fake confidence. Of course, it didn’t really matter for tonight because it wasn’t a date and it was only Gray. Gray, who’d seen her at her worst over the past five years, who knew what she looked like all sweaty after a morning jog...or dirty and cut up by kittens.
The doorbell rang and she jolted.
Don’t overthink this. Just go.
She picked up her purse and keys on the way to the door.
“Hey,” she said, opening it. Then she noticed his motorcycle parked out front, which wouldn’t have been a big deal except for the fact that he was carrying an extra helmet. “I think I’ll drive.”
“Come on, Mandi. Just this once. I brought you a helmet and I have a jacket for you in one of the saddlebags.”
“Motorcycles are death on wheels. In the years we were together, you were never able to convince me to get on that thing and now you think I’m suddenly going to hop on?”
“You make it through the streets of New York. What’s one ride with me?”
“I walk in New York. Why don’t we meet at the restaurant? I’ll follow you in my car.”
He took her hand and tugged her outside the door. He was standing so close. He smelled of fresh soap and shampoo and...and... She took a slow, deep breath. He had that special scent that was all Grayson and made her want to bury her nose in the side of his neck. She closed her eyes. She really needed to socialize more. He slipped the keys out of her other hand and locked the door for her.
“You kept the turtle key chain,” he said.
Shoot. Heat spread through her cheeks.
“Uh, yeah. You know. It’s a key chain. It works.” She couldn’t read his expression. He simply gave her back the keys and put his hand to the small of her back and guided her down the steps to where his bike was parked next to her old car.
“It’s a no-brainer,” he said, pointing out their choices.
She held her lower lip between her teeth and shook her head.
“More people are killed on motorcycles than are eaten by sharks,” she argued.
“Sharks don’t keep surfers from surfing.”
Because they’re passionate about it.
Where had that thought come from? She frowned as he unzipped the saddlebag on the side of the bike. He pulled out a leather jacket in her size and handed it to her. She had to admit, as risky as she thought motorcycles were, Gray had always been huge on protection. He never rode without a helmet, gloves, boots and armor-plated jacket for crash and skin protection. But she had never ridden, so why did he have a spare of everything in her size? Eve’s and Darla’s faces flashed in her mind. Then every face of every girl in town. Taking someone for a ride meant they would be seated very close behind him with their hands holding his waist for balance. She’d seen it in movies, on TV and when bikers passed by on Route 12 for a scenic road trip.
“It’s a very short ride to the boardwalk, Mandi. I won’t go too fast.”
He took his keys out of his pocket, and her lips parted at the sight of pewter catching the early evening sun. He still had his matching turtle key chain, too. What did that mean? He made no effort to hide it. He knew she noticed it because his eyes met hers and the corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly at her reaction.
She cleared her throat and tried to keep the conversation from going there.
“How is it you happen to have a helmet and jacket for me?”
He chuckled.
“Mandi. I know what you’re thinking but you’re wrong. You know how I am about my bike. I’ve never taken a girl for a ride on my girl. You’re the only person I know who is worthy.”
She didn’t know what to say. She’d walked right into that one. She’d set herself up for it.
“You’re trying to butter me up. You’re using psychology to get me on that bike.”
“Nah. Psychology would be pointing out that you almost rode with me once, right after we met, but your father forbade it. You told me so at the time. He had warned you that he had police connections and he’d have them pull us over and bring you straight to him if they ever saw you on my bike or any other. Then he flooded your mind with graphic details of every motorcycle accident he could find. Now, don’t get me wrong, that stuff can happen. You know how I am about preventing accidents and being careful. I take every precaution. A lot of the time, riders involved in accidents you hear about were being stupid, were inexperienced, lacked protection or were driving down treacherous roads with dangerous drivers or semitrucks. I don’t fall into any of those categories and would never deliberately put you in danger. You must know that. One ride, Mandi. You can’t head back to the city and live your life stuck in some office tower or cubicle without trying this at least once.
“Look, I’m not going to force you to ride. Encourage, yes, but not force. You have a right to make your own decisions and I can respect that. As for why I have a jacket and helmet for you? I’ve had this gear sitting in a closet for the past two years. I had bought it as a wedding gift for you. I figured that once we were married and you were out from under your father’s thumb, you’d change your mind about riding. I never returned it because, for the longest time, I kept thinking you’d come back.”
She’d forgotten about the warning her father had given her about motorcycles. When had his words and opinions become so embedded in her mind that she lost track of what he had “taught” her and what she believed or wanted of her own free will? Most parents influenced and shaped their kids’ mentality about things, one way or another, but at some point an individual learned enough about the world to make up their own mind.
“I don’t know,” she said, actually contemplating putting on that helmet. A zing of energy zipped through her. The mere idea of getting on that motorcycle...of taking a controlled risk...made her pulse thrum with anticipation. Gray held up the jacket and lifted his shoulders questioningly. If she didn’t want to ride, he’d put it away.
“Do you trust me, Mandi?”
That was a loaded question. Did she?
She paused, then took the helmet from him and put it on, then removed her hair clip. He helped her adjust and secure the helmet. She couldn’t believe she was about to do this. She climbed on behind him and held on tight. Probably too tight. But the slurry of nerves and excitement transformed to a purely breathtaking sensation when he revved the engine and veered onto the road, then took off. The wind beat against her like a soothing massage and the speed...man, it was exhilarating...electrifying yet calming at the same time. This was a different sort of peace from what she got from doing things like kayaking or parasailing. There was more adrenaline involved in this. A more powerful rush. She felt freer than she’d ever felt before.
A lump rose in her throat and her eyes got damp, not in a fearful, bad way, but because so much of the tension that had been festering inside of her begged for release. Something about being on Gray’s motorcycle, holding on to him with nothing but the wind against them, made her want to let go of any bad memories or bitterness between them. It made her want to break free and fly. And she was feeling all of this here, in Turtleback, where she never thought she would. She pressed herself a little closer to him and kept holding on because she knew the ride, the feeling, wouldn’t last forever.
He knew you needed this. He knew all along how badly you needed to feel this way.
He understood her. Maybe, in some ways, Gray did know her better than she knew herself.
* * *
GRAY PULLED TO a stop in a spot reserved for motorcycles near the boardwalk. He took off his helmet and immediately slipped on his sunglasses, then he got off and helped Mandi remove her helmet. She looked absolutely gorgeous when she had opened the door back at Nana’s, but right now...he was speechless, like some teenager on a first date. Sitting on his bike with her cheeks flushed, hair falling around her shoulders and eyes sparkling, she was beyond breathtaking. Her smile was more than he could have hoped for. It filled him with hope and joy. He had wanted her to ride with him for so long. To feel the freedom. Riding had been his savior. It had been the one thing that made him feel like he was rebelling against his past and having to live under protection. Having her in his life had made all the difference, too. He helped her get off and relished the way she held on to him and didn’t let go.
“I’m sorry. My legs are shaking. That was amazing.” She laughed and squeezed his arm. “Thank you for that.”
“I won’t say I told you so. Your legs feeling like that is normal. And no need to be sorry. You can hold on to me until you feel steady.” Hold on as long as you like.
He scanned the area, out of habit, before they started for the boardwalk restaurant. Mandi’s smile disappeared. He followed her line of sight about twenty feet down the boardwalk. John, with Coral by his side, had just stopped in his tracks near a gift shop. He was staring right at Gray and Mandi. His mouth hardened and face creased with disapproval. He tugged on Coral’s arm and they walked away.
“Mandi, look at me,” Gray said. She turned to face him. He hated that one look from her father still had the ability to fill her with guilt and unease. He brushed a lock of hair off her cheek. “You’re an adult. A strong, beautiful, smart, independent woman. You’re here with me, not him. We’re going to have a nice time and nobody’s going to ruin it. Got it?”
“You’re right.” She lifted her chin and smiled, but something in her brown eyes and the fact that she let go of his arm left him wondering if she really believed it.
“Come on. I made reservations.” He preferred doing that, so he could request a table that wasn’t in a high-traffic area. He felt more comfortable in corner spots. He held out the crook of his arm, as old-fashioned as it seemed, and waited for her to hold on. The road here had its share of weathering. He didn’t want her tripping if her legs were still shaky.
“Let’s do this. You’re right. I’m not going to let him ruin our day,” she said.
“You got that right.” He just hoped that John wouldn’t reappear and make a scene. Especially not here in a public area. These days, anyone could pull out their cell phone and start recording. People posted videos of public arguments and incidents all the time on social media. If that happened, WITSEC would have him pulled out of town within hours. Gone with no explanation...not even to Mandi. The thought of losing her permanently, when she had at least agreed to keep him in her life as a friend, killed him.
He hated self-pity, but sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder why, of all people, he had to have been the one who had overheard classified information that impacted national security—navy and defense data on underwater strategies and plans involving the US Navy Marine Mammal Program—getting leaked to a Russian contact. It blew his mind that anyone would do that to their country...to their people, let alone a respected commanding officer. Criminal activity that he couldn’t turn a blind eye to, or he would have been just as guilty. He had known that getting involved would entail some risks. It didn’t end at reporting what he knew, though. He was asked to help secure bugs where the communications were taking place, then later, he testified and things went downhill from there. Before he knew it, he was sitting through witness protection briefings, awaiting paperwork supporting his new identity, then making his move to Turtleback Beach. A location WITSEC had chosen.
He lived every day knowing that his cover could be blown, which was why he didn’t travel. He wanted to minimize the risk of anyone recognizing him, especially since he had found family and a new purpose here in Turtleback. Nana and Mandi. And protecting Mandi meant not telling her the truth, not only because he wasn’t allowed to, but because if she accidentally slipped up, her life would be in danger, too. It was like he was caught in some catch-22 loop that he’d never get out of. Lose her by not being honest. Risk losing her by involving her in the truth.
He guided Mandi into the restaurant and let her go ahead of him as they were led to their table. They settled down and ordered drinks. Gray glanced casually around the canopied outdoor seating area and down the boardwalk to make sure no one was acting suspicious. It was a behavior he did automatically, but today he felt more conscious of everything. Maybe Mandi had awakened his senses. He could still feel her pressed against his back. Had she held on to him any tighter, he might have had trouble steering.
“I think I’ll have the Mediterranean salad,” Mandi said, putting down her menu.
“That’s all? Are you sure?” He didn’t want to point out that this was his treat because he didn’t want to inadvertently offend her.
“I’m sure. I’m more thirsty than hungry. An iced tea sounds so good right now.”
“Well, I’m hungry enough for both of us. If you change your mind and want to taste anything I get, feel free.” He gave her a lopsided grin.
She used to love stealing bites off his plate whenever they ate out. He never minded. In fact, he liked it. Sharing like that was an intimate act and it made him happy to see her eat. Eating meant she was relaxed. She used to lose her appetite whenever her dad upset her. Or whenever she was irritated with Gray.
“You know me well. What are you ordering?”
“Let’s see...the grilled salmon, a loaded baked potato, a side salad, iced tea with lemon and, if you’ll share it with me like old times, the melted chocolate raspberry cake with extra whipped cream.”
“You’re not kidding about being hungry. And I won’t say no to that dessert.”
The waiter returned, took their order and hurried off. The poor guy looked exhausted with dark circles beneath his eyes, but he was on the ball with their order.
“You know what’s tough?” Mandi asked.
“What?”
“That the only photo I have of you is in my mind. It didn’t hit home until I had left town, but unlike most people in a breakup, since you never let anyone take or post pictures of you, I was deprived of looking you up online or scrolling through old photos of us just so that I could have the gratification of deleting them.”
“You would have looked me up online? I’m flattered.”
“Didn’t you ever look me up online? I know you abhor social media, but weren’t you curious enough to look me up at least once, just to see what I was up to?”
He thrummed his fingers on the table and narrowed his eyes at her. A truth. He’d give her this truth.
“More than once.” He had wanted to be sure she was okay. There had been nights when he couldn’t sleep and he just needed to see that she looked well or to read a tweet that indicated she was doing alright.
“Really? I’m flattered back at you.”
“Nana used to slip in a comment about how you were doing, as well. I think she knew I wanted...needed...to know.”
“She did the same with me regarding you, but still no pics, since you never let anyone take any. Let me ask you this. With my degree in advertising, would you trust me to help promote your practice? Maybe give you ideas on sprucing up your website?”
That was a tough one. She’d promote him too well, but she’d never accept that as a valid excuse to decline her services.
“I have no doubt you’re brilliant at what you do, Mandi, but you know I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t care for change. My website is fine as it is. Business is good.”
Or good enough.
“Hmm.”
“You don’t believe that I’d trust you if I ever wanted a revamp?”
“Would you?”
He took her hand in his.
“I hereby swear that if I ever want to redo my website or design an ad for my clinic, you’ll be the first person I ask. I only qualify that in case you’re too busy with work to spare me the time. I’m small beans.”
