Changing Tides, page 12
Pausing at the window, Rachel stared out at the view, and a smile touched her lips. Though this certainly wasn’t where she pictured herself at thirty-seven, she was wholly independent for the first time in her life, doing her own thing, away from her family’s legacy. And it felt . . . surprisingly good.
Movement caught her eye, and she squinted to better see in the darkness below.
A streetlight on the corner block cast a golden glow over the front-end of the docks where she just barely made out the form of a man moving about a boat. He closed the hold, then walked across the deck, seemingly performing some kind of maintenance before he exited the boat and headed off the docks toward the shops, coming into better view. A familiar shape took form. Broad shoulders. A dark toboggan, thick canvas work pants and coat. Long stride.
Joe.
She pressed a hand to the glass and watched as he tucked his hands in his pants, eyes on the ground as he walked. And then, as if he sensed her gaze, he glanced up toward the window.
With a gasp, Rachel pulled back, hoping he hadn’t seen her watching him. How embarrassing.
She waited a minute before she peered around the corner and out the window, but he was gone.
Chapter Fifteen
Rachel woke early, her teeth chattering from the cold.
Groaning, she curled her body further into the comforter, but when she was too cold to fall back asleep, she opened her eyes and rolled over, then headed to the ancient thermostat to take a look.
Fifty-four. No wonder she was cold. Obviously, something was wrong with the heat.
With a sigh, she rubbed hands together, then headed toward her cell phone on the kitchen counter and dialed Boggs’s number. When he didn’t answer, she grumbled and ambled into her bedroom to get dressed.
Since she worked the second shift today, if she wanted heat tonight, she’d better address the issue now. First, she’d change and eat cold pizza for breakfast, then head down to the café where she planned on giving Boggs a piece of her mind about the condition of the apartment. He had to have known how bad it was, yet she played right into his hands when he’d acted like renting it out was too much of a convenience for her when really he’d gotten off easy. For anyone else, he’d have had to do repairs, paint, and clean. That meant not only time spent but money as well. Sure, he could’ve gotten more for rent than what they agreed on—probably double—but, apparently, putting zero effort into this place was more important to him.
She pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater, then slid on her shoes and headed for the door. The wintry sea air nipped her cheeks as she made her way down the steep stairway to the back entrance of the restaurant where she swung open the door. The kitchen was empty, so she headed to the dining room where she found Boggs talking with a customer.
Rachel hovered nearby, patiently waiting for him to finish. When he finally turned to her, she straightened and jutted her chin out. “The heat in my apartment is broken.”
“And?”
“And?” Rachel stared at him in open-mouthed astonishment. “You need to fix it! Today.”
Boggs groaned and dramatically scrubbed a hand over his face. “See, this is why I didn’t want a tenant. Too much work and hassle.”
“Well, I’m sorry. I can live with a lot of things, but it’s the end of January on the east coast, which means it’s cold. I need heat.”
“I’ll put in a call to my friend. He can fix it, but he doesn’t get back in town until the end of the week. Think you can wait that long?”
“No.”
“I think I have an old space heater—”
“Mr. Boggs,” Rachel said in warning, “I’m not using a space heater. I’m paying the electric, and it would cost a fortune to run, not to mention it’s a fire hazard.”
Boggs rolled his eyes, but Rachel was not to be deterred. “Which brings me to another point. The place was a complete disaster.”
“I told you the last tenants left it a mess.”
He had her there; he had warned her, but still. “You didn’t make it sound that bad. In reality, it was disgusting. I had to bleach every square inch of the place. The fumes, alone, will probably give me cancer.”
Rachel’s spine turned to steel as she tipped her head, pointing her nose down at him—a look of superiority her mother had perfected since she was a child, and one she’d never tried on before because she found it utterly pretentious, but in this instance, it felt right. “So, I decided that I’m not paying you rent this month.”
“Ha! You’ll pay me, or I’ll have you evicted.” Mr. Boggs stabbed a finger in her direction.
Now Rachel was the one to roll her eyes. “Oh, please. You didn’t even let me finish. I’m not paying you in cash. Instead, I decided I’m paying you in equity.”
“Oh, you decided, did you? Since when did you sign the deed on this building?”
“I will paint the place, repair the cabinets, among other work, including my cleaning services in exchange for this month’s rent,” she said, ignoring him. “Anything I do will be invoiced and count toward future rent. So, if I go over this month in equity, I’ll deduct from next month.”
When Boggs started to protest, she lifted a hand to stop him and continued, “I’ll redo the kitchen cabinets and replace the hardware. Maybe there’s something I can do with the floor and the seventies bathroom, as well.”
Mr. Boggs scowled so hard, Rachel thought he might pop the pulsing vein in his forehead.
“Think about it,” Rachel said, refusing to let up, “I won’t live there forever, and when I move out, I’ll leave it in perfect condition, and you’ll have a piece of prime real estate. You can probably get four times as much rent as I’m going to pay you if everything inside is new and fresh. And I will pay rent. Just not till after all the work is done.”
The muscle in Boggs’s jaw twitched, but she could tell he was contemplating everything she said. Rachel also happened to know from asking around yesterday afternoon that Boggs had paid the building off ten years ago. He didn’t need the rent to put against a mortgage. Anything he got for the apartment was extra cash in his pocket. He’d take the deal. She was sure of it. Because underneath his wooly exterior lay a heart as soft as the cashmere blanket she pined for.
“Fine. But you’re still paying the utilities. I don’t care how much you spend on paint and light fixtures. I’m not paying for you to do any of that newfangled streaming stuff.”
Rachel bit back a grin. Look at her driving a hard bargain. Her dad would be proud.
The thought of her father sobered her. After all, he was the reason she was in this position in the first place.
“Deal. But you’re fixing the heat today,” she said, stone-faced.
“My guy isn’t in town.”
“Well, you’ll just have to find another guy.”
Beside them, someone cleared their throat. They’d been so immersed in their bickering, neither of them had noticed someone standing beside them.
Rachel turned at the same time the observer said, “I can fix it.”
Her heart skipped a beat as Joe’s deep baritone rumbled through her. He wore a Carhart jacket, dark wash jeans, and a knit gray cap that matched his eyes. And she thought as the sight of him sank into her bones that she might love that hat.
It was a minute before she realized he was waiting for a response. Meanwhile, she’d been staring at him like a lovesick teenager.
“You can fix my furnace?” she asked, finding her voice.
He shrugged. “Most likely. If you want, I can take a look later this afternoon.”
“I won’t pay—” Boggs started, but Rachel shushed him with a look that could freeze water.
“You will pay, or I’m moving out.”
“Fine by me.”
Rachel narrowed her eyes, but Joe saved her from saying something she’d regret. “I’ll do it free of charge. It’s not a big deal. Consider it a thank you for your business,” he said to Boggs, which seemed to appease him.
“Is noon okay?” he asked her.
“That’s perfect. My shift starts at two.”
Butterflies fluttered in Rachel’s chest. It had been a long time since she’d felt this kind of nervous anticipation over a man, but there was something about Joe that called to her. Like the pull of the ocean tide, she couldn’t see or explain why she felt drawn to him. She just did.
When the knock on the door came, Rachel smoothed her damp palms over the front of her jeans and took a deep breath, glancing around her with a grimace. The place wasn’t much—that was an understatement—but it was clean, at least.
Flinging open the door before she could lose her nerve, her breath caught in her throat the moment she saw him leaning against the doorframe.
“Hi,” she said, swallowing hard. “Uh, come in.” She waved him inside, feeling the heat of embarrassment run through her at her humble surroundings. A feeling she wasn’t used to. One that made her self-conscious.
“Sorry. I know the place isn’t much, but I just moved in last night, and I haven’t had time yet to go shopping or—”
“Please, you don’t have to explain.”
She smiled weakly, glancing around her. “It’s a long way to fall, huh?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Falling from the lighthouse would be much worse.”
Rachel grinned at his attempt to bring her some levity while his gaze flickered around the room. “I think it’s pretty nice. That color on the walls,” he said, pointing, “that’s a fine patina. I don’t think you could buy that shade at the hardware store if you tried.”
Rachel barked out a laugh, and he shook his head, then glanced down at the floor by his feet. “It’s not so bad. You should’ve seen the house I grew up in.”
The memory of the boy in the red cap hit her in the gut.
“Where do you live now?”
“Across town in a little place near the sound. It’s not much, but it has a pretty nice view off the back deck. It’s quiet and has more room than I need.”
“My old place was soundfront, actually. I loved it.” She felt his eyes on her and wondered what he thought of her entire situation. “But, surprisingly, the view here is pretty nice.” She motioned toward the window, then immediately thought of watching him in the dark last night, how he looked up and caught her staring.
She bit her lip, hoping he didn’t remember the same thing when she turned back to him, but he wasn’t looking at her.
“There’s a lot you could do here,” he said, glancing around him, “and it would be a nice little place. When I bought my house, it was little more than an old beach shack. I fixed it up. It took a lot of work, but once you’re done, I think it means more.” When he glanced back at her, he grinned. “I think I might’ve had the same green walls.”
“So there’s hope.”
“There’s hope,” he said, revealing his dimples, and Rachel couldn’t help but think maybe they were talking about more than just the wall color. Then something behind her caught his eye, and he headed toward it. “So, you have hot water baseboard heat.”
“What?” Rachel blinked, then watched as he crossed the room and knelt down by the rectangular white column at the base of the wall.”
He held his hand in front of it. “Unless the whole thing is broken, which I doubt, because it’s putting off minimal heat, it should be an easy fix. My parents had something similar in our house growing up, and they needed to be replaced for years, but instead, my dad could only fix them. Sometimes, constantly in the winter.”
Rachel headed toward the tiny kitchen table and sat down in one of the old wooden chairs while he settled in front of the baseboard and took out his tools, then removed the cover on the heater, and began to work.
“So, why haven’t I seen you around since high school?”
“Ah. . .” He glanced up at her out of the corner of his eye. “You do know who I am, then. Since we weren’t in the same class, I was hoping you’d forgotten.”
Rachel swallowed. Maybe bringing up school was the wrong thing. From what little she recalled, the kids hadn’t exactly been kind to him. “Of course, I know who you are,” she said, though in truth, it had taken effort on her part. “I remember how nice you were.”
He raised a brow. “Nice. Huh? Most people remember me as being Prawn or Fish Boy.”
A rush of heat flooded her face. Because she did remember those things.
An image of him standing by that decrepit roadside stand, selling seafood, flashed in her head. Unsure of what to say, she watched his hands as he worked, removing more tools from his bag.
What could she say? She couldn’t deny that she remembered how mean the other kids had been to him, and that was with her limited memory of him. Who knew how bad it was—what a day in the life of Joe Hastings had really been like? She couldn’t imagine, so instead of commenting further, she asked, “How do you remember me?”
Though she smiled, she waited for his response while her stomach turned in knots.
Joe’s family had no money, and he had little friends from what she remembered. Rachel’s life had been the extreme opposite in every way. She lived in a lavish home, surrounded by luxury—a family-owned sailboat and yacht, sports cars, and designer clothes. On her sixteenth birthday, her father gifted her a car. While Joe was forced to stand in the summer heat selling fish, Rachel lounged on the beach, rubbing coconut-scented oil into her skin. She’d been popular and beautiful, even in high school. Everyone wanted to be her friend, but despite her fortuitous circumstances, she’d never allowed it to go to her head. She was confident, yes, but not cocky or arrogant like Carter. Instead, she prided herself on being inclusive and kind. She’d never been cruel to other kids or stuck up. Still, the way she saw herself may be very different from the way Joe saw her. After all, some of the kids—the boys, in particular—that she ran with most were his tormentors. Did he lump her in with them? If so, she was shocked by his presence now.
“I remember . . .” he started, then paused, gripping a screwdriver in his hand.
She held her breath as she waited for him to continue, afraid that if she breathed, he’d say something she didn’t want to hear.
“Your long blond hair.”
She exhaled. It wasn’t the answer she expected. “My hair?” she asked stupidly.
He nodded and unscrewed the face of the baseboard, then picked up a wrench. “Back in school, it fell down your back, almost to your waist, like this . . . this golden waterfall. I was mesmerized by that hair. I used to think of you as Goldilocks.”
Rachel’s heart hammered in her chest. “You did?”
“This one time, I stayed after school to do some makeup work because I’d been absent a couple days, and you were there in the hall. I remember seeing the guys in their football jerseys, messing with some girl’s locker.”
Carter, Rachel thought.
“They stuffed it full of trash, then topped it off with notes on the outside, saying something nasty, I’m sure. I kept my mouth shut because the last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself. I knew darn well that if I said anything, I’d be next. So, I crept around the corner and into a nearby classroom and just watched, hating them, and then I saw you coming. You wore your cheer uniform, and you stopped at your locker alone. But when you shut it and headed down the hall, you paused when you saw the notes. You checked both ways to make sure no one was watching before you removed them. And it must’ve been a hunch, but before you left, you opened it, and when the trash spilled out, I watched as you picked it all up, every last bit of it, from banana peels to used napkins and food. And then you just walked away like it never happened. Like you hadn’t just saved that girl from something humiliating.”
He set the wrench down and turned to her, his eyes the blue-gray of a stormy sky. “That’s what I remember,” he said softly.
Rachel remembered too. Carter and Drake had been tormenting this sophomore girl, Tonya, all because Drake asked her out and she refused. Apparently, that was enough reason to make her life miserable.
They were bullies; Rachel saw that now. But back then, even though she hadn’t liked their behavior, she found a reason to explain it away. They were just being boys. They weren’t really hurting anybody. It was just a joke. But it was cruel, and Rachel wondered now how she’d ever run around with them in the first place.
“I remember that.” Blood roared in her ears as she stared at the man in front of her, wishing she’d been brave enough to stand up to them when people were watching, instead of just doing it when they weren’t around. Wishing she’d not just been kind to Joe, but that she’d spoken with him, befriended him. “I’m really sorry I didn’t get to know you in high school.”
His dimples popped, and she wanted to reach out, to press one of her fingers into that little indent in his skin.
“Yeah, me too. But I doubt I would have even known what to say to someone like you.” He shook his head. “You were so beautiful and vibrant and confident. You were everything I wasn’t.”
“That’s not true.”
He shot her a knowing look. “You don’t need to sugarcoat it. I know I was unfortunate looking. Back then, I had bad skin, my hands were always stained from work, and my clothes were either two sizes too small or embedded with the scent of seafood—hazards of being a fisherman.” He laughed, a self-deprecating sound. “Anyway, it’s probably good I wasn’t better looking. I didn’t have time to date or have a social life. I was too busy working for my father.”
“What about now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you have time to date now?” Rachel asked, desperately hoping he said yes.
He hesitated a moment before the corners of his lips curled. “I suppose it depends on who’s asking.”
