Nantucket Romance 3-in-1 Bundle (93 page)
“That was kind of odd, come to think of it. He didn’t seem overjoyed, but maybe he’s not the expressive type.”
“Did you make plans to go out again?”
“Not really. We just said we’d chat on email and left it at that.”
They were quiet for a moment, and the hum of the air conditioner filled the gap. Would he write when he got home tonight? Would he say he enjoyed her company?
“He’s a good listener. I think I talked too much, but it was so refreshing to be with someone who actually listened, you know?”
He
was
a good listener. Why did it hurt that Arielle appreciated the same quality? No, not hurt. Made her feel threatened.
Tucker is not Jared. And Arielle is not Jaylee.
Yeah, but Tucker thinks Arielle is you.
She squeezed her eyes closed and wished this were over, for time to fast-forward two weeks. She longed for simpler times when she was just Sweetpea and he was Harbormaster.
It had gotten so complicated.
“I wish you’d tell him the truth.” Arielle disrupted her thoughts.
“You just want to bail on our agreement.”
“I just want you to find happiness.”
“Trust me, telling him the truth won’t bring either of us happiness.”
“Maybe you’re not giving him enough credit. He seems like a nice guy.”
She’d been through this. But even a man like Tucker had his limits. She couldn’t expect Arielle to understand, because her cousin didn’t know the whole truth. “Just keep your end of the bargain, cuz, and I’ll keep mine.”
Arielle sat up and shrugged. “Fine by me. He’s not exactly an ogre.” She scooted across the bed and bounded onto her bare feet. “Well, I’m going to grab a bath before bed.”
“Goodnight.” Sabrina lay in bed until she heard Arielle shut off the water, then went to check her messages. Tucker had been home long enough to write. She opened the program, half hoping he’d written, half terrified of what he’d say.
In the end, all the emotions were for nothing, because there was no letter from Tucker at all.
Sweetpea: I went to the library yesterday and spent a lovely afternoon buried in a book of poetry. Are you sure you don’t like poetry? Maybe you’ve just never tried Longfellow.
When Sabrina returned from work the next day, Renny was pruning the rosebushes by the front walk. She hunched over a bush of pale pink buds, examining the petals of a rose in full bloom. The sun beat down on her back, and beads of sweat had popped out on her forehead.
“Afternoon, Sabrina.” She straightened from her crouch, swiping the dirt from her red Hawaiian shirt.
Sabrina pulled her mail from the box and approached. A warm breeze blew in off the ocean, stirring the loose hairs by her ear and carrying the fragrance of roses. “
Gan Eden
is looking lovely. But you picked a hot day to garden.”
“Well, the muse always visits while I’m pruning, and after last night, I need a visit.”
“Didn’t go well?” Sabrina leafed through the mail, bills and junk.
“I wrote two pages in four hours.”
When Renny was on a roll, she could write two chapters in four hours. “Sorry to hear that. I’m sure it’ll come to you. It always does. Have you heard anything on
Danger in the Night
?”
Renny stretched her back, then swatted a fly. “No, no, nothing good, I’m afraid.”
It was early yet. Surely they wouldn’t reject that one. Renny’s stories were better than many of the books she bought. She shook her head. “It’s only a matter of time.”
Renny laughed, her leathery skin creasing at the corners of her eyes. “You’re good for my ego, that’s for sure. How are you doing,
amita
? Having a nice visit with your cousin?”
“She sure livens up the place.”
Renny laughed. “I’m glad she came. She’s good for you—full of
simchah
!”
“
Simchah
?”
“Joy, full of joy! You need more joy in your life. Your cousin’s a believer?”
“How did you know?”
Renny tapped her temple. “I know these things.”
Sabrina shook her head and made her exit. Returning to her apartment, she was glad she had no plans. Tucker hadn’t written that morning, and she was eager to see if an email awaited her.
The loft was empty, and a hot-pink Post-it was stuck to the computer monitor.
Went for a walk.
Sabrina set down her bag and opened the email program. Tucker had been quiet at the café. A couple times she’d caught him staring at her with a strange expression, but when she caught his eye, he looked away.
One message waited in her inbox, the one she’d hoped for. She clicked on it.
Hey there. Hope you had a good night’s sleep. I checked my schedule when I got home last night and it’s pretty full today. Saturdays are crazy this time of year. Would you mind if we didn’t get together tonight? My schedule is lighter tomorrow. Maybe a picnic or something? Your call. If you’re up late tonight, maybe we can chat awhile.
Sabrina stared at the words until they blurred. He hadn’t mentioned their date. Hadn’t said what a wonderful time he’d had, hadn’t told her she’d looked beautiful. But then maybe he told Arielle that last night.
Not something she wanted to dwell on.
At least he and Arielle wouldn’t be together tonight. It was something. Her cousin would be relieved.
She hit Reply and stared at the blinking cursor. He wouldn’t get the message until late, but maybe when he returned they could get a conversation rolling.
Before she could formulate her thoughts, Arielle returned, her skin glistening from the hot sun, her hair pulled into a high ponytail. “What a gorgeous day! I think I’ll put on my suit and go for a swim. How was work?”
“Okay.” She closed the email, deciding to put supper on first. She wondered if Arielle had gone to the grocery for fruit and vegetables. Having a vegetarian in the house changed mealtime.
At least Arielle would be home for supper, though she didn’t know yet. “I have good news,” Sabrina said.
Arielle rummaged through her stack of clothing, a lumpy pile she’d shoved into the hollow recess of an end table. “You’re telling Tucker the truth?”
Sabrina tilted her head and glared at the back of her cousin’s head. She refused to give credence to the comment. “You’re free for the night. Tucker wrote and said he was booked until late.”
Arielle pulled her bathing suit from the pile and stood, frowning. “Oh. Well, okay.”
“I’ll put something together for supper,” Sabrina said.
“I already made a fruit salad for you. I guess I’ll be having that too.”
Sabrina watched Arielle shut the bathroom door. Not the reaction she’d anticipated. Not that her cousin had seemed disappointed, but for someone set on avoiding dates with Tucker, she sure hadn’t seemed relieved.
Harbormaster: I talked to Tracey again today. Divorce is for the birds. I’ll spare you the sordid details, but I still want to beat the guy to a pulp. Does that make me a bad Christian? There’s all that “turn the other cheek” stuff, but it’s hard when the person who got slapped is your sister. She’s already been through so much.
Tucker couldn’t stand the thought of faking it today. He had to pretend to some extent, but after his long day yesterday and another restless night, the thought of entertaining Arielle, running into people he knew, introducing them, was too much to stomach.
Which was how he came to be standing at his grill, flipping steaks. He checked the underside of the T-bones, then flipped them, hoping Arielle would arrive before he singed them. The potatoes were done, resting in their foil skins on the table. The broccoli was keeping warm in the steamer.
He’d offered to pick up Arielle, but she’d replied, saying she’d walk over. He’d been certain it was Sabrina at the keyboard. It had been her short, snappy sentences. When he envisioned Arielle’s emails, he imagined long run-on sentences, punctuated with “oh, my goodness.”
Now he wondered if Arielle had gotten lost between Sabrina’s house and his. She was twenty minutes late. The sun was low on the horizon, but there was plenty of daylight left. She didn’t believe in cell phones—he’d learned that on their last date—so he couldn’t call. He should call Sabrina and see when she’d left. The idea gelled, an excuse to talk to her more than anything.
He turned the grill to low and dialed Sabrina. She picked up on the second ring.
“Hey there,” he said.
The pause lasted so long he was about to identify himself, but then she responded.
“Tucker. Is something wrong?”
He smiled at her immediate assumption. “Does something have to be wrong for me to call?”
“If past experience is anything to go by.”
“Come on, now. Isn’t it possible I just called to see how your day went? To see if Oliver stumped you with a word yet? To see if—”
“When you’re on a date with my—with Arielle—not so much.”
Tucker sank into the wicker deck chair. “Okay, you got me. I called to see when Arielle left. She’s not here yet.” At the moment, he wouldn’t mind if she had taken a detour. A very long one.
“Oh. I was out getting groceries, so I’m not sure when she left. I wouldn’t worry though—she gets distracted sometimes and tends to run late.”
Interesting observation for someone she’d supposedly just met. “You seem to know her well.”
“Not really. She just—well, she’s been staying here, so you get to know a few things about a person, that’s all.”
“Right.” He didn’t want to talk about Arielle. “So, are you going to keep me in suspense?”
“Am I supposed to know what you’re referring to?”
He smiled. “Oliver. I believe he’d dropped the word
propinquity
as I was leaving this morning.” He’d been late for his first run or he would’ve stuck around for pure entertainment value.
“It means nearness or proximity.”
“You subscribe to Word of the Day or something?”
“Something wrong with that?”
Tucker laughed. “There is such a thing?”
The doorbell pealed. A pang of disappointment ricocheted through him. He wished he hadn’t planned this date with Arielle. He wanted to talk with Sabrina all night. Maybe if he ignored her, she’d go away.
“Was that the doorbell?” she asked.
Busted.
He entered the house through the sliding door.“Actually, yeah. I guess Arielle made it.”
He stopped by the recliner, delaying the inevitable, not wanting to hang up just yet.
Just say it, Sabrina. Tell me the truth, and trust me to
handle it, whatever it is.
“Well,” she said. “Have fun.”
Not likely
. “Talk to you later.” He hung up, disappointed and frustrated.
Get it together, McCabe. You’re going to scare the poor girl if you open
the door with a snarl on your face
.
He took a deep breath and opened the door.
“Hey!” Arielle looked fresh and energized from her walk, her cheeks flushed.
“Come in.”
“I love your house. It’s so cozy and, oh, my goodness, right on the water. And I do mean
on
the water. Sabrina said you had a boat tied up outside, but I didn’t know she meant
right
outside.”
He smiled at her enthusiasm. “You can look around if you want while I get the food on the table.”
“Sure.”
Tucker dished up the broccoli and brought it outside. By the time he had the grill off and the steaks on the plates, Arielle was opening the sliding screen. Her hair was down, and it swung around her shoulders as she turned.
“Your house is so gorgeous. I could help you with the—” Her eyes seemed to stick on the plate of food.
He pulled out her chair. “What’s wrong?”
The wicker chair crackled and creaked as she sank into it. “Nothing. I—I was just saying I could help you with the flow of your room. If you want, that is.”
He studied her as he sat down. Something was wrong, though she was trying to cover with a smile.
“Yours is well-done, the way you like.”
“Thank you.”
He handed her the A1 sauce, but she hesitated before taking it. “I have Worcestershire if you prefer.”
“No, no. I—I think I’ll enjoy it plain.”
Tucker dropped his napkin in his lap, breathed a quick prayer, then dug into his steak. It was juicy with a nice tang from the spices he’d used. He remembered when he’d grilled for Sabrina. Had it only been a few weeks ago? He’d had her right there in his house. What if he’d told her the truth? Would she be sitting here now instead of Arielle? Had he missed his opportunity?
He and Arielle made small talk, but conversation became stilted after ten minutes. Tucker wondered how he was going to survive the rest of the night. What had Sabrina been thinking? Arielle was nothing like her. In fact, they were complete opposites. Did Sabrina think he could be fooled so easily?
When they finished eating, he carried their plates to the sink. Upon his return, Arielle’s face seemed pale. But maybe the pretense was wearing on her. It was certainly wearing on him.