Last Chance Harbor (22 page)

She stood on his stoop beaming back at him sunny as a spring day. At the sight of her, he felt suddenly grubby, sporting a day’s worth of stubble. He wasn’t too sick to notice her snug pair of jeans and a form-fitting sweater. Her dark brown eyes glistened with amusement. Her smile radiated out like a thousand-watt bulb.

“What…are you doing here?” he wheezed out.

“Returning the favor. I thought you said you never got sick.”

“No need to rub it in. You must’ve had some super bug that attached itself to me and doesn’t want to let go. How did you know?”

“I talked to Nick this morning when I closed on the house. He mentioned you were noticeably absent at the site yesterday when he stopped by the school. I asked him for Troy’s number. Troy pretty much painted a picture that you were at death’s door. So…I brought…wait for it…chicken soup. Sorry it isn’t Perry’s famous recipe. But you don’t look like you’re in any shape to exert a picky attitude. Mine’s homemade
plus
you get plenty of leftovers that’ll last for a couple of days.”

“Bless you. I’m starving. But aren’t you afraid of re-catching this terminal flu or whatever the hell it is?”

“Now, now, let’s not exaggerate. I got over it in a couple of days. You will, too. Where should I put this?” She held up the slow cooker.

“Kitchen. That way.”

“Go ahead and sit down. I’ll fix you a tray. Bring it to you after I’ve made you some tea with lemon and honey.”

He disliked hot tea but it seemed rude to mention it now. He dropped his body down into the recliner and didn’t think he could budge unless an earthquake jolted him out of it.

He heard the cabinet doors opening and closing, realized she was hunting for bowls.

When she came back into the living room, she carried a tray he didn’t even know he had. “First, let’s get a little broth in you and then we’ll see if you can handle the noodles.”

He let her spoon-feed him the liquid, alternating between sips of the tea. “This is the best tea I’ve ever tasted.”

“That’s because I spiked it with bourbon.”

“Ah. No wonder. Good move.”

She laid a hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up with fever. Have you taken aspirin?”

“I’m pretty sure I took some kind of something yesterday.”

She sighed, went down the hall in search of the bathroom and the medicine cabinet.

She came back clutching a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. After she watched him swallow the meds, her eyes landed on the fireplace and the stack of firewood beside it. The chill in the air had her tossing a few logs on the grate before using kindling to get the flame going.

Digging in her handbag, she pulled out the DVD she’d brought, held it up. “This time I picked the flick.” She slid it into the player, got settled on the ancient couch.

His eyes zeroed in on the box. “
Raiders of the Lost Ark
. A classic. I had an Indiana Jones lunchbox, used it to conk Bobby Harding on the head after he tried to take off on my bike.”

“How old were you?”

“A very worldly six.”

He looked tired she noted. And sure enough, halfway through the movie, Ryder dozed off.

She got up, went in search of blankets and tucked him into his chair.

She cleaned up her mess in the kitchen, saved the leftovers into a container for the fridge, and tidied up the living room. The fire needed tending, so she added more logs and turned off the lights. Still not a hundred percent herself, a little tired after the chores, she curled up into a ball on the sofa.

A sound jolted
her awake. Sitting up, she blinked at the time on her watch. Four-fifteen. She looked over at the lump in the La-Z-Boy
®
that was Ryder still sacked out.

Creaking floorboards, in what she considered the middle of the night, put her on alert. In unfamiliar surroundings, she tossed back the cover. Fully clothed, she stood up and zeroed in on the source of the noise.

All caution evaporated.

Gritting her teeth to keep from yelling at the sight of Scott, she lowered her voice. “It’s four in the morning. Mind telling me what you’re doing skulking around here?”

“I saw your bus in the driveway. I wanted to see if the two of you…you know…hooked up.”

She put her hands on her hips. “You’re spying on people now? You’re using your ghostly powers to go covert? That’s…that’s…intrusive. That’s…so wrong.”

“Hey, there isn’t a lot of opportunity for me to have fun. This is it.”

“Well, cut it out. Get out of here. Now!”

“I can see I’ve caught you at a bad time.” Scott eyed Ryder in the armchair and added, “This would’ve been so much more interesting if you two had been…you know…sharing the same space.”

“He’s sick. No, on second thought you are.” She looked around for something to throw at him and swiped up a sports magazine off the coffee table. It sailed through the air just as Scott managed to vanish and the booklet thudded against the wall.

Ryder bolted upright at the sound. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Go back to sleep,” she said to him, stepping over to test his forehead with the palm of her hand. It wasn’t as hot as it had been before but he was still feverish and his eyes still looked dull and glassy.

Before she could take her hand back he held on to it. “You stayed.”

“We both fell asleep during the movie.” She didn’t see the harm in the little white lie. “You never made it past the snake pit scene.”

“Damn. I love that part. Did I hear voices just now?”

“You were dreaming. Now go back to sleep,” she repeated.

He yanked her down into the chair with him. “Only if you stay right here with me, curled up against me for another few hours. It’ll make me feel better.”

“There isn’t room for the both of us.”

“Sure there is.” He scooted over so they could scrunch together and had her snuggled up against his chest in one smooth move. In less than two minutes, he was snoring softly again.

Looking into his face, she was very much afraid she was already falling for the guy. Closing her eyes to the beat of his heart, she drifted into dreams.

Several hours later when the light peeked through the curtains, she moved to get up but Ryder caught her around the waist.

“Don’t go,” he said sleepily.

“I’m just getting up to put on coffee. How’re you feeling?”

“Better, thanks to you. Do you have plans for today?”

“I’d hoped to take a run by the house, other than that…”

“Then spend the day with me, here. The weather’s gray and dreary out. We could hunker down here, watch the movie you brought, listen to music, or just lounge around if we want. Taggert had this old record collection. I promise you it’s worth a listen.”

“What about the milking?”

“Silas has that chore till tomorrow morning.”

“How do you like your eggs?”

“Scrambled with a little cheese.”

They got to their feet together, made their way into the kitchen. Ryder dumped coffee into a filter, pushed the button on an ancient Mr. Coffee while Julianne dug into the refrigerator for breakfast fixings.

She got out a skillet, tossed in strips of bacon. While it began to sizzle, she whipped up the eggs.

“Did you get the impression Nick was serious about loaning money to people with a business idea?” Ryder asked.

“Absolutely. Thinking about one?”

Over the meal, he told her about how he’d always wanted to build boats and why.

“Ah, the influence from the architect grandfather. Makes sense.”

“It does?”

“You obviously have fond memories of spending that time with him. It was special and something the two of you could do together. Where was the camp?”

“Beautiful Maine. My first year there was spent with my dad. Good times. Then after he was gone, every summer after that…from eleven to fifteen…I’d get out of the city with my Gramps, go up there and spend June to mid-August on the water. We got to create and design our own watercraft. It was a world away from Philly. I’d like to take you there sometime.”

“And I’d love to see it. Your eyes light up when you talk about that time in your life. Did you know that?”

Together, they began to clear the dishes. When she noted the look of embarrassment on his face she wanted to know, “I’m curious. Why didn’t you keep going back to the camp after fifteen?”

“My grandfather was diagnosed with cancer. He passed away a couple months later. Money was tight so I went to work installing cabinets on a construction crew.”

“And just like that, your childhood pretty much came to an end.”

“No self-respecting fifteen-year-old considers himself a child.”

She picked up his hand, squeezed his fingers. “But you have fond memories before that.”

“That one summer, I learned a lot from my dad, then later, my grandfather. No one can take that away from me.”

She decided to get that wistful look off his face. “Let’s go through that treasure trove of albums.”

As it turned out, Taggert’s collection offered up a wide variety of music. It seems the farmer’s taste ran the gamut from Louis Armstrong to Frank Sinatra to Beethoven to Gerry Rafferty. Perusing the selections, they took turns reading aloud the liner notes and the track listings.

“Ed Sullivan presents
Annie Get Your Gun
.”

“Here’s one,
The Best of Nat King Cole
.”

Julianne slid out an LP from its paper sleeve and gently placed it on the turntable, pointed the needle to the groove. “How about this instead?”

“Billie Holiday. There’s one here for Bonnie Raitt from 1971, different time maybe, but the man obviously loved his blues.”

They swayed to
As Time Goes By
and then, when the track changed to
Moonglow
, they made another pass around the room. As the saxophone riff introduced
Baker Street
, Julianne closed her eyes to the refrain.

Ryder took the opportunity to breathe in her hair, nibble on her neck and run his hands down her back. He boosted her up, dipped his head down, angled his mouth over hers. The press of lips ramped up, heated. Teasing tongues wanted more while hands roamed to slide clothes off to the side.

He thumbed a nipple through her shirt. Her fingers were moving down to his zipper when someone pounded on the door.

“Ryder! Ryder! I know you’re sick, but you got to come quick. You gotta see this.”

“What now?” Ryder said through gritted teeth. “Is there a hidden force at play here to explain why we keep getting interrupted?”

Julianne looked down at the bulge in his pants. “You can’t open the door like that, at least not until you…”

He spared a glance downward at his sweat pants sticking out. Doing his best to stall for time, he yelled through the door, “What’s wrong, Silas? What has you in such a frenzy today?”

“Someone let the cows loose. They’re out on the highway. It’s just me here today. I need help getting them rounded up.”

“Let me get my boots on and I’ll be right there.” He grabbed Julianne, covered her mouth in a sultry kiss. “Sorry, but it looks like I’m on the clock. This may take a while.”

“But Ryder, you’re sick.”

“Not anymore.”