The Firefly Effect (12 page)

~ Chapter Twelve ~

I wonder how she expects me to keep my hands to myself when she looks like walking, talking temptation.

Sitting across from me in a black floral print sundress, her loose hair flowing over bare shoulders, eyes sparkling like cut jewels, she radiates enough sex appeal to throw any man’s pulse into overdrive. I know she’s got mine accelerating. She’s already secured a number of interested glances from some of the male patrons in the restaurant, much to my chagrin. Do they not see that she’s here with me?

Funny thing is, she doesn’t even seem to notice.

She’s finishing up her Oysters Rockefeller, which is a good thing because I was done eating five minutes ago and now my foremost thought is how much nicer that pretty dress would look lying in a heap on the floor. I’d like to order her a second rum runner but the first glass is still half full. I get the feeling she doesn’t imbibe much. Yes, I am actually contemplating the merits of getting her tipsy. It would be quite something to find out what happens when all her inhibitions are stripped away.

After last night’s brief interlude, I can only imagine. I wish she would lighten up and relax. Trust me a bit. So far tonight, she’s been frustratingly taciturn.

That’s always been my problem with her. I can never tell what she’s thinking.

“Are you going to have to board up our windows?” she asks, noting the plywood covering the plate glass. Both sides of the Lazy Heron’s entrance have already been secured in early preparation. It feels weird eating in here with most of the windows boarded up. The ambience in the restaurant resembles a scene from a zombie apocalypse movie. One with really great Cajun pasta.

“No need,” I reassure her. “The house has hurricane shutters.”

“Oh, that's right! I completely forgot. Leah texted me earlier and asked if I'd close them.”

“I'll take care of it in the morning.”

She traces a smiley face in the condensation on her glass before lifting it and taking a dainty sip. “Do you think the pier’s still open?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Would you like to go see?”

“I thought it might be nice. We could leave your car here and walk over, couldn’t we? Work off some of this food.”

I wouldn’t mind a good sweaty workout myself. Probably not the same thing she has in mind, though.

“Wouldn’t you like another drink first?”

“No, thanks. I’m good.”

“How about some dessert?”

A whisper of a smile flits across her lips and for a moment I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing I am.

“Maybe later.”

Oh, yeah. She’s thinking it, the naughty minx!

“Well. Ah…are you ready to go, then?”

“Yes. If you are.”

I pay the check, waving off her rather insulting suggestion that we go Dutch, and accompany her out of the restaurant into the night. It’s become breezy since this morning. The air is fresh and the light wind carries a fragrant, salty coolness. Maybe the storm will stay on its northwesterly track and we’ll end up with nothing more than a good soaking.

The threat of an impending monsoon doesn’t seem to be deterring anyone from the beach. I had assumed the area would be deserted tonight, but the parking lot for the pier and boardwalk leading to the beach looks to be surprisingly full. I can see it from where we are on the sidewalk. The pier is little more than a stone’s throw from the Lazy Heron.

“Feels nice out tonight,” Melanie comments.

“The calm before the storm.” I smile to myself, thinking how well that old adage describes our current situation. And I don’t just mean the weather. “Tell me something. Leah said you were staying here until March, right?”

“Yes. I mean, I was planning on it.” Folding her hands behind her back, she twists them together while giving me an anxious look. “Unless…is that going to be a problem? Like I said, I didn’t know you were the one who owned the house. She never told me that.”

“Of course it’s not a problem. I was just wondering. Where do you normally live?”

“Oh.” Her fidgety arms relax a bit. “My sister and I were sharing a place. Actually, it was my grandmother’s house – it was left to us after she passed away. Anyway, Madelyn got engaged a couple of months ago and…well, you know how it is. Three’s a crowd. I figured they wouldn’t need me underfoot, so I was already looking for an apartment. Then I got laid off, and Leah offered this place to me since I no longer had anything holding me in Crestview.”

“I never knew you had a sister.”

“Yeah…Madelyn’s five years younger than me.”

“Hm.” Funny how I’d always thought of Melanie as an only child. Maybe because I had her pegged as a spoiled brat. “And she still booted you out? Even knowing you’d just lost your job?”

Just as I expected, she bristles in defense. “Nobody ‘booted’ me out. Her fiancé offered to buy out my half and I accepted. Actually it worked out very well for me. Now I can concentrate on this next book without worrying about whether I’ll bring in enough royalties to pay the bills in the meantime.”

“And what happens in March? Will you be going back to Crestview?”

“I don’t know yet. Once I get this book submitted to my agent, I’ll start looking for another job. So it just depends on what happens with that, I guess.” Cocking her head to one side, she looks up at me with a furrowed brow. “I just thought of something. Should I be making the rent check out to you instead?”

“No,” I tell her with a laugh. “That’s okay. I’ll just leave this arrangement between you two. She isn’t taking advantage of you, I hope?”

“No, not at all.”

“Are you sure? Because if she’s–”

“I’m sure,” she interrupts with a smile.

Damn, but that’s a beautiful sight. I’d love to see her smile at me more often.

As we approach the pier’s entrance, I can already tell the gate is closed. Once we stroll a little closer, I see a sign attached to the metal bars:
Closed Until Further Notice.

“Guess that’s that. I was afraid they might’ve already sealed it off.” I give her an apologetic shrug. “We can still walk down to the water if you want to.”

She kicks off her sandals and reaches down to pick them up, so I take it she wants to.

“Okay.” As she straightens, the breeze catches her hair, sending it dancing in wisps across her cheek. Something about the vulnerable way she looks right now makes me want to take her in my arms and keep her there. She’d be a hard one to let go.

Now that’s a scary thought.

Fuck – what is it about this girl? Even after all these years, she still has the craziest effect on me.

I slip off my own Birkenstocks and hold them in one hand before reaching for hers with the other. My fingers capture her smaller ones before she can protest, and though I can feel her tense for a fraction of a second, she doesn’t pull away.

Still – what was that about? This time last night I was balls deep inside her and now suddenly she seems almost scared to let me touch her. I wish she wasn’t so hard to read. Surely she isn’t still holding onto old grudges, is she? Those days were so long ago.

There are more people scattered along the beach than I would have expected. A news crew is here, and a small crowd has gathered around to watch the cameramen filming some guy as he broadcasts a live weather report. I think I’ve seen him on TV before. I can’t make out what he’s saying, but it can’t be too terribly exciting. There’s nothing going on other than some choppy waves. It isn’t even raining yet. Double red flags are flying, of course, which means it’s illegal to enter the water. I’m sure by tomorrow morning the beaches will be closed altogether.

We drop our shoes beside one of the wooden lounge chairs and stroll slowly along the shore as the foamy water rushes up, spraying our legs with mist before withdrawing into the ocean. Back and forth. Attack and retreat. I wonder what it will look like out here twenty-four hours from now. Even if Elliott continues to pull westward, the waves will still be rough.

“Do you and Stephanie still keep in touch?” I ask, lacking anything better to say.

“We chat online sometimes. You know she’s living in Boston now, right?”

“No, I didn’t know that. What’s she doing way out there?”

“Her husband’s from there originally. They have twins. I think they’re around two or three. Cutest little girls you ever saw. They look just like Stephanie, red hair and dimples and all.” She pauses to draw a line in the wet sand with a pink-polished toe. “So I gather from Facebook that Craig is a probation officer now. I never would have pictured that.”

I can’t help but grin. She’s not the only one who was surprised by his unusual career choice. “Been cyberstalking Craig?”

“He sent me a friend request. I noticed you weren’t on there anywhere.”

“No. I prefer to do my socializing in person.” With my fingers still entwined in hers, I trap her hand behind her back and pull her close. Those gorgeous hazel eyes widen, and I can see the rolling waves reflected in them. “Can’t do this on Facebook, can you?” I tease her softly.

She presses her free hand against my chest. For a minute I think her intention is to push me away, but instead she tugs playfully at the collar of my shirt. “Do you do a lot of…um, socializing?”

Is she asking about my sex life? “I’m rather particular about who I socialize with, if that’s what you’re asking.” Brushing a light kiss against her forehead, I release my hold on her and we continue walking. Her hand is still in mine though. I’m not relinquishing that. “How about you? Do you have an active social life?”

“Definitely not,” she mutters.

Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise? “And why is that?”

“No particular reason. I just don’t usually have time for that sort of thing, I guess.”

Clearly there’s more to it than that, but it’s just as clear she doesn’t want to discuss it right now. Has her heart been broken? Some failed relationship, recently ended? I hope that isn’t the case. I don’t like to think of her pining for some asshole who’s too blind to see when he’s got a good thing.

“You had no trouble finding the time last night.” I stroke her wrist lightly with my thumb. “And if I’m not mistaken, your schedule is free this evening as well.”

“You’re really subtle, aren’t you?” She pauses to bend down and excavate something from the sand.

“I thought we’d already established that simple and direct is the most effective method of communication.”

“Oh, it’s effective, all right.” Straightening, she hands me a smooth spotted cowrie shell. “Here. Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

Inspecting the wet shell, I pocket it with a sly smile. “I’d never be able to say that, now would I?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Dr. Becker.”

“Don’t knock the gutter until you’ve wallowed in it, Miss Lane. And since we’re on the subject, did you know that cowrie shells represent fertility? In some cultures, they’re given to new brides to ensure an abundance of healthy offspring.”

She grimaces in mock horror. “Yikes. Maybe you better throw it back in the water.”

“No. You gave it to me. It’s mine now.”

“Fine,” she giggles. “When you end up with an overabundance of healthy offspring, don’t come crying to me.”

“What? You mean you wouldn’t be available to babysit my quintuplets?”

“Not just no, but hell no. Especially if they take after their father!”

“Now, I find that insulting. Everyone can tell you I was the most well-behaved child to ever…um, to ever...” Pressing my lips together, I shake my head before succumbing to a laugh. “Damn. I can’t even say that with a straight face.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t. Lightning might strike you dead for telling such a whopper.” Cutting her eyes sideways, she gives me a curious look. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Certainly.”

There is a brief hesitation before she continues. “Why’d you tell everyone I had herpes?”

Oh, shit on a shamrock. I might have known at some point that would come up. Still, I’d held out a faint hope that she’d somehow developed temporary amnesia and forgotten all about it.

“I
didn’t
tell everyone. Just Jake. I didn’t think he’d go and blab it all over school.”