All That You Are (18 page)

“You did really good today. I saw you doing your weave drill. You were so much better.”

“Dad showed me how.”

“That's awesome.”

Her mood was upbeat, and she showed enthusiasm for her son's aptitude for hockey. When the coach came into the room, her bright expression somewhat darkened. And when the guy came toward them, Dana became visibly self-conscious with Mark at her side.

“Hi, Dana,” he said, his hazel eyes pinned directly on Mark.

Mark got the sense that the coach felt some kind of personal attachment to Dana, as if he wanted to hit on her or something.

That didn't sit well with Mark, although he had no claims to her. He knew Dana was striking—knew men would seek her attention. Even so, Mark didn't want to be around when they did. He didn't like the jealousy he felt.

He stood close to Dana, maybe too close, as if to fend the guy off and make him take a step back.

Rather than say nothing, Mark addressed the coach head-on. “I'm Mark.” He extended his hand. “I'm Dana's friend.”

The suddenly smug coach gripped his fingers, squeezing tight. “And I'm Cooper—Terran's dad.”

D
ANA PROBABLY OWED
Mark an explanation even though he hadn't asked the question.

Looking at the city lights below, she stood on his condo deck, embracing the temperate evening. The daytime temperature had reached sixty-four degrees and after sunset the air had settled into the low fifties—warm by July's standards. No rain had fallen today with little in the weekend forecast.

But weather wasn't really on Dana's mind as she listened to Mark move around in the kitchen behind her. The tall panoramic windows in the condo's living room weren't covered by blinds and the light from the kitchen poured onto the deck. At the railing, she watched the cars in the distance drive along the streets bathed in the fuzzy glow of double-headed streetlights.

She could actually see the Blue Note bar from here, a vague outline shadowed in the marina.

Slipping hands into her vest pockets, she thought back to the hockey practice tonight.

While Mark probably hadn't noticed, Seth and Jacob's parents had studied them with curiosity. From the interested look Laura gave Mark, she definitely wanted to know all about who he was. Dana had never brought
anyone to Terran's practices except her mother. Suni came on the weeks they had Terran, and on others, she chose not to. But she never missed one of his games.

Tonight Dana had invited Mark—not to meet Cooper or to even remotely have Cooper see her with someone else. She'd done it to move forward in her life, to mix things up and just do the normal things a single woman did—like socialize with men as friends.

The look on Mark's face when Cooper introduced himself had spoken volumes. Mark hadn't been happy about it, clearly feeling as if she'd duped him into an awkward meeting with her ex-boyfriend. This simply wasn't the case and she was obligated to set that part of the night straight.

When Mark had invited her over for a drink, she would have easily declined if there hadn't been static between them. After leaving the rink, Mark hadn't said but two words in the car. So here she was. Perhaps because she wanted to clarify things—or maybe just to have some quiet time with a man she liked looking at.

Mark joined her on the deck, handing her a glass of red wine. It wasn't often she drank. Because of serving alcoholic beverages at the bar, she shied away from drinking any night she was working. And when she wasn't, one glass could relax her to the point of falling asleep on the sofa.

She took a sip, enjoying the fruity flavor swirling around in her mouth. She knew wines, and this vintage tasted excellent. It had a currant flavor with full body. Definitely a Cabernet.

“You warm enough?” Mark asked, standing close.

“Actually, yes. It's nice outside.”

Arching a brow, he suggested, “I've got a cozy fireplace I can flip the switch on.”

Dubious, she slanted her gaze over him and didn't address the intended message. “I'm good.”

There were two deck chairs and he offered her one. She sat, a small round table between them.

For a long while, as the air lightly whispered in the boughs, they sipped wine and kept their thoughts to themselves. In the distance, a floatplane headed for the channel, its white strobe lights blinking in an indigo sky. The berths were void of cruise ships and the shops had long since closed for the day.

While Dana struggled to find the words to explain herself without coming across as vulnerable, Mark took the effort away from her as he spoke first.

“So what did you want me to be tonight? Your boy toy to show off to the ex-old man?” His hooded eyes glittered in the dim light, a dark brown that didn't carry the usual mischief and twinkle. Clearly he was perturbed.

“I don't need a boy toy,” she countered. “It wasn't like that. It didn't matter that Cooper was there—I wanted to go with you and be…normal.”

He nailed her with a hard stare. “What's normal?”

Choosing her answer carefully, she said, “Going out and doing the things women do. They hang out with guys, as friends. They—”

“Are we friends?” he cut in.

“Well…I suppose.”

“After I had my tongue down your throat—you suppose.” His statement was about as blunt as a dull knife blade.

In a smooth motion of his legs, he propped his heavy
feet on the deck railing and slid lower in his chair, his muscles taut, while he chewed over what she'd said.

“Why do you have to be so crass?” she queried, then drank a long sip of wine. The alcohol warmed her to the core and instantly took the edge off her scattered nerves.

“So why'd you call me?” Mark's voice sliced through the night in a whiskey-smooth tone. “I'm sure there's a lineup of guys in town who would have gone with you.”

This was the truth, but Dana hadn't wanted to be with anyone else tonight. She wouldn't readily admit it, but she enjoyed being in Mark's company. Talking to him about a variety of things came easy. On the other hand, when he was in a teasing mood, he sent her blood to boiling.

“I wanted to go with you,” she responded quietly. “It's been a long time since I went out with anyone. Not since Terran was born. You do the math. Being a single mom plus working a lot means I don't have time to date. And I just didn't want to involve my son with anyone.” She swallowed, staring ahead and not making eye contact with him. “What you said at Burger Queen bothered me. I had to prove to you that I wasn't afraid of getting involved.”

“I understand—but why not give me the heads-up on Coach Hockey Puck?”

“I don't think much about Cooper. I have to deal with him but beyond that, he's nothing to me. I didn't parade you in front of him for any ulterior motive. He just happens to be my son's coach.”

Mark grew quiet, then finally replied, “Next time you want to try some kind of experiment, Freud, let me in on it first so I can be prepared. I would have put on my best shirt to look good.”

He spoke the latter in the same monotone as his cautionary words and she wondered if he was serious—until she glanced his way and saw a grin splitting his face.

Rolling her eyes, she couldn't help but smile. “You sure find humor in things I don't.”

“Baby, life's too short not to be in it for the chuckles.”

“Life's filled with things I can't chuckle about.”

That sobered their humorous atmosphere, and she instantly regretted her remark.

“So, tell me about Cooper. How'd you meet him?” Mark had settled in comfortably in his chair. He clearly had no timetable and wanted to hear her life story.

Dana wasn't sure she wanted to tell her history, but she made a snap decision to trust Mark with details she rarely shared.

“I met Cooper in the grocery store. He always came into my lane and I thought he was funny the way he said things to me.”

“You don't think I'm funny.”

“I do, too,” she countered. “I've laughed plenty at what you've said before.”

“Sweetheart, you don't laugh much.”

Dana didn't know whether to focus on the fact he'd actually spoken the endearment right for a change, or on his observation that she didn't laugh very often.

That simply wasn't true. She laughed a lot with Terran. He was a funny little boy.

“I do laugh.”

“Not much,” he reiterated. “I know you think things are bad, but they could be worse.”

“I don't think that.” Growing uncomfortable, she took another drink. Inadequacy swept her briefly. It felt as if
she'd had the chair pulled out from under her and her butt had smacked on the decking.

The past had been challenging and difficult, but she didn't dwell on it. She didn't sit around at the bar drinking her sorrows away like her customers sometimes did. She'd never wallow in pity, never ask anyone to feel sorry for her.

Bristling at Mark's gall, she finished her wine and asked him to pour her another.

He went into the kitchen and snagged the bottle, topping off his wine after filling hers.

“So you thought Cooper was funny. Then what?” Mark's feet resumed their perch on the railing and he eased into his chair once more.

“We dated,” she went on. “And I liked him.”

“Did you love him?”

“Of course.”

“Just wondering. Sometimes love and lust are confusing.”

“I know the difference.” She tamped the surge in her pulse, her heartbeat accelerating. Mark had a way of confusing her and heating her emotions to a point where she couldn't make heads or tails out of what she was trying to say. “I loved him and we made a baby together,” she said in a rush, “but he didn't want to marry me. I told my brother, Terrance, what happened, and he wanted to beat the crap out of Cooper.”

“Your brother said the right thing. I'd've killed any guy who got my sister pregnant and didn't do right by her.”

“My brother didn't get the chance because of the accident. So I had Terran, and my mom's helped me ever
since. I honestly don't know what I'd do without her. Then when Terran was two, Cooper had a change of heart and wanted to be an active dad. And that's where we are today. Split custody.”

Mark nodded. “Terran seems okay with everything.”

“He has his days where he's not. I can't imagine what goes on in his head sometimes.” She drank more wine, then dared speak the ultimate truth. “I live with guilt.”

After a span of breaths, Mark replied, “Don't we all for some reason or another.”

Dana looked at him, drinking in his chiseled features in the marked light and thinking this was different. Being here with someone who didn't hold back his thoughts, who was brutally honest yet also tender.

Time stretched between them, both immersed in their own thoughts once more. Dana didn't talk about her intimate feelings with anyone. Rarely even with her own mother. It felt strange yet oddly comfortable sitting here with Mark.

Mark broke the silence. “So how'd you end up with Fish Tail Air? Was your dad a pilot?”

“No. He stumbled onto it. We're one of the few places in the marina with prime water dockage. My dad started with a couple of gasoline pumps to supplement his income from the Note. Later, he added the floatplanes. He took out a loan—I'm still paying it.”

“Sell one of the planes.”

“Not so easy—buyers have to have a lot of money to afford one. Each is worth a half million. I have two that seat seven, one that seats five.”

“Someone could get a loan.”

“Not in this economy. Business is way down. It's
cheaper for me to just make the payments rather than give the planes away at a deflated price. Sam knows what he's doing. I pretty much leave it up to him.”

Mark didn't carry that subject any further, but she could tell his mind was still wrapped around it. Probably wondering just how Sam Hyatt fit into her life. He was a dear friend and they'd shared the same sorrow, but beyond that, nothing remotely romantic.

“You want to go inside now?” Mark asked, lowering his legs then standing and not really giving her the option to decline.

“Uh, sure.” Dana stood, as well, her legs feeling mellow under the wine's effect. She hadn't drunk more than a glass in who knows how long.

Mark slid the sliding glass door open for her and she stepped into the living room. The modest room was sparse—just the basics for a rental property. Sofa, chairs, cabinet and television. Mark's things were scattered throughout the area. His work boots by the front door, a coat thrown over a chair back, brown leather wallet on the breakfast bar with car keys and paperwork—no doubt for the bar's remodel.

“You hungry?” he asked, standing in the kitchen, ready to get her something to eat.

Elbow deep in washing and folding laundry, she'd only had time for a bowl of cereal for dinner.

“Are you?” she replied.

He grinned, a white flash that gave her cause to look at his full lips rather than into his eyes. “Don't I hate that when a woman can't just say she's starving.”

“I wouldn't say I'm starving…. What do you have?”

The refrigerator was opened and he stood in its low
light, hand on the top and body posture bent to peer inside. “Beer, eggs, bacon, smoked salmon, cheese, chocolate milk, butter and apples.”

“Cheese and apples. Do you have any crackers?”

“It's your lucky day.” He moved to the cupboard and came out with a box. “Pizza flavored.”

The hunger in her stomach soured as she wondered why boys liked artificially flavored food. Terran would have been all over those crackers. “Just cheese and apples.”

“Coming right up. Take a load off, sis. Toss the shoes and try out that sofa. Slip into your comfortable.”

Only Mark would make a comment about a couch and have it be an innuendo. She had no intention of lying down on the thing. She did remove her vest and boots, but kept on her socks. Wiggling her toes, she relaxed, feeling the wine overtake the day.