Читать книгу The Navy Seal's Rescue - Jo Leigh - Страница 14

Chapter Five

CRICKET’S PLAN HAD been to walk to Ronny’s shack. But staying up until two thirty this morning put that idea to bed. Which she wished she had done for herself, instead of taking a cab the sinfully short distance to the place where she’d grown up.

She couldn’t complain too much. Harlow had joined her and Jade after ditching the football player, and they’d laughed themselves silly in the hotel bar, and then after it closed, out on the deck. The talk had been about the past. She knew her reasons for not telling her friends about what was happening in her life now, but she also knew they’d all fess up soon enough.

Thoughts of Wyatt had floated through her brain all night. Just images, stray thoughts. She’d slipped once about him, and the others had glommed on to it like leeches. After that she’d been careful not to mention the bar. They all knew it. And soon enough they’d all be checking him out.

As the taxi pulled up on the beach road, she smiled at Ronny’s sky blue shack, the only one like it on this stretch of the best surfing beach for miles. The city had tried to make him change the color back when she’d been a teenager, but they’d given up eventually. That house was as much a landmark as anything in Temptation Bay, and surfers came from all over to meet Ronny, in his fifties, and still a legend in his own right.

She gave the cab driver too much money, then slipped off her sandals to walk the familiar sand, clean and cool in the early morning air. She’d worn one of her old sundresses, something she’d taken with her to Chicago out of nostalgia more than anything, but hardly ever wore. Last time had been on her last visit... God, three years ago already. How had that happened? She needed to come more often. He missed her. A lot. He’d promised to make her favorite breakfast, chocolate chip pancakes, and swore his groupies, the surfers that swarmed in the summer and made his shack their headquarters, were banished for the day.

She hadn’t the heart to tell him she hadn’t liked chocolate chip pancakes since high school. It didn’t matter. She’d eat whatever he had. Guess she missed him just as much.

The front door was open, but she stopped on the second step up to the porch. The board had been replaced recently. Unfortunately, the other two hadn’t, and it was evident that they’d already started rotting.

But that was her dad. Fix what’s broke. If it’s not, why bother? There were waves to catch. Fish to fry. Books to read. He’d always been like that. It had driven her mother nuts, and as Cricket had grown up, it had bothered her, too.

The whole house was in need of repairs. Shingles missing on the roof, one window broken, fixed with duct tape, the paint was peeling, and she was pretty sure the whole place was leaning a little to the left.

“Well, are you coming in or what?”

She grinned and trotted past the porch, straight into his arms.

“Oh, Baby Girl, it’s been too long. And you’re too skinny.”

She leaned back, studying his face. Wow, she’d never thought it would happen, but he was looking his age. “Look who’s talking. Hasn’t anyone been feeding you?”

“I’m not an invalid. I take care of myself just fine.” He pulled her tight again. “Besides, being lean is good for longevity. I’m thinking of going macrobiotic. I read a really interesting book about it.”

“You’d blow away in the wind if you lost more weight,” she said. “I’m actually surprised that you and this old shack didn’t get flown to Oz during that last big northern.”

“That’s the beauty of the Bay, my girl. We’re protected here, just like the pirates.”

“Oh, for... You know the cab driver from the airport was talking about that stupid treasure on my way here. I can’t believe it hasn’t been completely debunked by now, and what’s that smell?”

“Goddammit.” Ronny abandoned her to the kitchen, where at least one chocolate chip pancake had become a lava cake.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I mixed up plenty.”

He always had. Burning meals was another Ronny specialty. Which was troubling. Although she wasn’t going to say anything yet. Not until she found out more about the Jeep accident and the fall on the dock.

“How’s the coffee?” she asked.

“Like always. Tastes like motor oil, keeps you up as long as you need to be.”

“Tell you what, just for a change of pace, I’ll fix you some a little milder.” Anticipating his protest, before he opened his mouth she said, “I’m not throwing away your tar. You can heat it up later. But I need coffee that’s not ninety-four octane.”

“Be my guest, Baby Girl. There’s OJ in the fridge, too.”

Butter sizzled on his old cast-iron grill while she busied herself with the beverages, pouring them both a glass of juice as the new coffee brewed.

“What do you hear from your mother?”

“She’s good. Still living in Paris with the judge.”

“That’s number four, right?”

“Yep. But she likes him. He’s got hobbies.”

“Hobbies. So she can shop all she wants without him tagging along?”

“That’s right.” Cricket grinned. “And they like taking river cruises. I think the last one was from Budapest to Amsterdam.”

“Huh. I’m glad she’s happy.”

“She asks about you, too, you know.”

“What do you tell her?”

“That you’re forever Ronny. That you don’t have a new woman in your life. Or has that changed?”

“Nope. I’m forever me. How about you? Got yourself some hot prospect?”

“I’m too busy working to have any kind of prospect.”

“That’s a shame, Baby Girl. I’d like you to fall madly in love with a good man.”

Cricket smiled. That didn’t surprise her. Ronny had always had a romantic soul. “Well, that’s not exactly off my wish list. Just not in the immediate forecast.”

“Put a couple forks on the table, huh? The food’ll be ready in a sec.”

She did, along with the juice. His old coffeepot took forever, but that was okay. “How’s the charter business going?”

“Good. You know summer’s always busy for me. Lot of tourists wanting to catch their trophies. I had one guy wanting to know where he could get a baby marlin stuffed. Got all upset when I told him we had to throw it back, that it was below the limit.”

“What about your regulars?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get enough repeat business to pay the bills, but the extras help out for the winters. With the crazy weather patterns now, you never know what to expect.” He brought two plates over, each one pretty much covered in a giant pancake. “There you go, Baby Girl. Your favorite.”

“I see you didn’t forget the butter and the syrup.”

“Nope. Never will.” He sat down across from her, at the table he’d had as long as she could remember, made from driftwood by a local craftsman. It was really ugly and wobbled, but it went with the rest of the decor.

Almost everything in the shack was roughshod and the style could only be labeled as beach bum. There were still a couple of lamps that her mother had added, both classic and traditional. Also, the painting above the long couch that had to be worth a lot by now, although she doubted her dad had done much to preserve it. She couldn’t remember the artist’s name, but he’d been renowned back in the day.

“About those charters,” she said, “you are insured, right?”

Ronny stopped eating to stare at her. “Insured? Why would I need that? You’re an attorney. Anything happens and I get sued, you’ll take care of it.”

She dropped her fork. “Are you crazy? The only thing I’d be able to do is visit you in prison.”

A smile with lots more lines crinkling his tanned face made her roll her eyes. “I’m insured,” he said. “Very well, in fact. Both the business and the house.”

“Speaking of, what happened with that fall on the dock? And also, how come you didn’t tell me about crashing the Jeep?”

“Lousy gossips in this town. The Jeep was nothing. A fender bender. I needed three whole stitches. Jeez. As for the dock, it was slick and I fell, that’s it. It happens.”

“Was it the dock or your personal slip?”

“I don’t remember. Does it matter?”

“Of course it does. You’re responsible for your slip. Before I leave, I’m going to the dock to make sure it’s not a hazard, talk to the harbormaster if need be. Even with insurance, if someone breaks their neck and they can prove maintenance wasn’t kept up, they can sue the pants off you.”

“Honey, I hate to tell you, I’ve been without pants on that dock plenty of times before.”

“Ew.”

His hearty laugh hadn’t changed a bit. “Eat your pancake. If you finish it all up, I’ll make you another.”

“Oh, Ronny. I’m not twelve anymore. All this sugar is going to keep me wired all day.”

“And you turned your nose up at my coffee.”

She laughed and ate, enjoying the cloyingly sweet chocolate and syrup despite herself. It reminded her of home, of such happy days. Even when Ronny and her mom fought, they must’ve been civil, because she didn’t remember any of it. After they split, her childhood spent mostly with her father was a collage of shining memories, filled with an ease she rarely found outside the Bay.

“How’s Eleanor and Oliver?” They were his longtime neighbors. Oliver was a retired fisherman and Eleanor worked at the library part-time. They’d watched her often when she was growing up.

“Oliver’s getting old. Can’t walk too much anymore. Working on the sea takes it out of a person. He’s got arthritis so bad his hands are almost useless. Eleanor still goes out to the library three times a week, though.”

“Do they still argue like street fighters?”

“Yeah, but it’s better now that Eleanor doesn’t hear so great. Oliver spends most of his time yelling at the kids who come around here.” Ronny shrugged. “It’s okay, though. A man like Oliver needs something to be angry about, other than his own body.”

“And how’s your body?”

He looked wounded, and honestly, she hated to even bring it up, but there was something off about him. His eyes still made him seem young, and his floppy hair, permanently sun streaked and brushing the neckline of his T-shirt, had grayed some, mostly at his temples. It wasn’t that, though. His movements were somehow more careful. Even when he walked the short distance from the kitchen to the table. “I’m not that old.”

“I know. That accident? Whose fender was the bender?”

His guff of air was a warning, but she wasn’t about to back off yet. “Mine, okay? I got distracted. What, that’s never happened to you? I’m fifty-eight years old, and I’ve had exactly two car accidents. Both of them minor. I think my record is pretty damn good.”

“When was the other one?”

He didn’t answer.

“Could vertigo be the problem?”

“No.”

“What about surfer’s ear?”

“You think I wouldn’t know if I had surfer’s ear?”

“Have you checked?”

“Yes.”

She was about to ask him another question, but reconsidered.

His stare made her feel awkward, something she wasn’t used to. Ronny wasn’t just a community legend, he was her own personal hero. His kindness had always been unfailing, and she’d known many boys turn into good men because they’d hung out with her beach bum dad. “Isn’t that famous coffee of yours done by now?”

“Yes, it is.” She got up, took her empty plate into the kitchen, which was really just on the other side of the standing counter, and poured them both a cup. Despite his complaining, he’d always liked the way she made it with a pinch of cinnamon.

“Tell me what else has changed,” she said, setting his cup in front of him. She kissed his forehead before sitting down.

There was the smile that she loved. “Every damn thing. Except the surfing and the fishing. Some company offered me a fortune to buy the shack, and my slice of sand.”

“Really?”

“Of course I told them no. I’m never leaving this place. I want you to have it after I kick off. Besides, this old thing survived Hurricane Sandy, the town council and five mayors.”

“Even you have to admit it could use a few repairs.”

“I’ll get to them before winter hits, how about that?”

“How about you hire someone before winter?”

“Why? I’m perfectly capable—”

“I’m not saying that. But come on, why should you? You already do too much. Tell you what. Now that I’m a rich attorney, let me do this for you. I didn’t get you anything but a card for your last birthday.”

“Absolutely not. You put that money into savings. Jeez, I want you to retire early so you can come back home where you belong. This town needs a Cricket. Bad.”

She reached over and took his hand. God, his skin was dry and spotted. So much exposure to the sun. His words, though, they brought a small lump to her throat. “Okay. We’ll discuss the repairs later. Right now, I want to ask you something.”

“What?”

His eyes had narrowed, and Cricket immediately put off the question she’d been about to ask him. “Do you ever go up to Sam’s Sugar Shack?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You know the new bartender?”

“There’s a new bartender?”

“Maybe not new,” she said, realizing it had been three years. “Tall, lean, muscular build—”

“Oh, you mean Wyatt?” Ronny frowned and turned to the window. “Why, is he here?”

Her throat tightened and she almost took a look outside, herself. “Are you expecting him?”

“No,” Ronny said. “I figured you must have seen him on your way over. He runs most mornings, past here, to the fish market. Sometimes he likes to hang out here or at the market, just to shoot the breeze.”

“Does he own Sam’s?”

Ronny nodded as he sipped his coffee. “Yeah. For a couple years now. Good guy.” A smile tugged at Ronny’s mouth. “As long as you don’t bother his waitresses or get rowdy. He doesn’t care if you’re a local or not, you have too much booze and act up, he’ll put a stop to it. Always calm, but tough. Like you know he could kick your ass, so you just might as well walk it off.”

“I’m sure that’s never happened to you.”

Ronny laughed. “I have many sins, Baby Girl, but overindulging in alcohol isn’t one of them.”

“I suppose that doesn’t go for the recreational weed I can still smell in the rugs?”

He laughed again but before she could tell him she wasn’t calling him out on his habit, there was a knock on the door. A banging, actually.

“Dammit, I told you guys to stay away today,” Ronny yelled, and goodness, his voice hadn’t weakened a bit.

“Ronny,” some guy yelled back. “Don’t be like that. Hector said your daughter’s hot. We want to meet her.”

“Beat it!”

“Besides, there’s a sweet two-foot swell coming in, and you’ll be sorry if you miss it. Come on, man.”

“You want to escape, now’s the time,” Ronny said, inclining his head. “I bet you can still crawl out through your bedroom window.”

Cricket grinned. “You knew about that?”

His look told her more than words.

“No. I’d actually like to meet these young hooligans. Make sure there are no unsavory characters.”

“Except me?”

“Except you.”

The front door, never locked to her knowledge, squeaked open. “So, it’s okay if we come in? It’s just me, Ted, Igor and Wendy. The rest of the guys are still out there.”

Cricket mouthed, “Igor?”

Her dad just laughed as the door opened farther. “Ronny?”

“Fine. But you don’t touch. Anything. Especially the fresh coffee. You want some, you heat up the stuff in that pot by the microwave.”

The boys and Wendy came in a rush, as if they’d all been huddled by the door. Wendy was a pretty girl in a very small bikini top and boy’s trunks. Her long hair was pulled into a braid down her back, and she was tan with bright green eyes and the pink lips of a teen. There had been a time when Cricket had looked a lot like that. Not the eyes so much as the innocence.

The boys were a range of heights and ages. One kid looked no more than fourteen or fifteen, and one might have gotten into the bar without a fake ID. But they all looked like surfers, as close to the California stereotype as they could get without a Malibu tattoo. It felt as if they’d all looked like that, from the time she’d learned to surf herself, at the tender age of nine.

Someone whistled. “You are hot.”

“Thanks. Also, too old and wise to get mixed up with surfers.”

“Hey.” That came from a chorus of voices.

“Besides,” she said, finishing her coffee. “I’ve got to get back to the hotel and meet the gang.”

“Who came?” Ronny asked.

“Everyone but Meg.”

“Jade?”

“Yeah. Even Jade. It’s great. Anyway, I’ll come by tomorrow, if you don’t have any charters or surfing lessons.”

“I’ve got an early evening charter, other than that I’ll be here.” He stood up and wrapped his arms around her again. “You be careful with those hill people, all right?”

She refrained from reminding him he’d married one of them. “I’m always careful.”

“Don’t go yet,” the taller surfer said, moving in closer. “We haven’t even been introduced.”

“Let me guess. You’re a surfer from New York or New Jersey who’d heard about the great surfing at Temptation Bay, and about Ronny Shaw in particular, and this is your first season on the beach, probably sharing a room at the motel with three or four of your new friends?”

“How’d you know I was from Jersey?” he said, in an accent so thick it could paint walls.

Cricket smiled. “You take care of him,” she said, nodding at her father. “And listen to what he says.” It was time to get away. Now, before the rest of them screwed up their courage. She wanted to take her time walking back to the hotel, and with any luck, she just might run into Wyatt.