Nantucket Romance 3-in-1 Bundle (86 page)
“It’s a gorgeous night, oh, my goodness. Even the rain was nice last night. I love the smell of rain, and the sunshine today . . . I could stay here forever.”
She had a soft Southern twang that sounded nice. Comforting. “Summer’s nice, but it gets pretty cold in the winter. We year-round residents have to take extra precautions to preserve heat in our homes. Especially the homes on the shore.”
“Still, the summer is to die for, and the whole place has great energy. How many people can say they live on an island? It’s awfully romantic.”
He turned out of the drive, wishing she hadn’t mentioned the
r
word, because now an awkward silence filled the car. He turned up the air. If only he’d thought to turn on the radio before he’d arrived. It would’ve filled the silence, but to do so now would be rude. Would she expect him to hold her hand? To kiss her goodnight? His palms grew sweaty and sticky on the leather steering wheel.
“Well,” she offered, “I guess since we already know so much about each other, we can skip the small talk, huh?”
“Guess so.” He pulled his lips upward and hoped for the best. “Though I don’t know what you do for a living or where you live. You’ve been a little secretive about that.” He spared her a quick glance.
She laughed, nervously, he thought. “I live in Georgia, but you probably guessed that by my accent.”
“Where ’bouts?”
“Macon. Born and raised there. I teach preschool, which I love. Not for everyone, I know, but those little rug rats are a hoot.”
Even if he hadn’t known Arielle wasn’t Sweetpea, he would’ve been suspicious by now. She had too much energy, and she talked more and faster than his friend did. It hit him that her job gave her summers off. Still, surely she couldn’t stay long on a preschool teacher’s salary. Though since she was staying with Sabrina, there weren’t many expenses involved.
Arielle related a story of a boy in her class who’d gotten a LEGO stuck up his nose. His mom took him to the ER to have it removed. She chuckled at the memory.
“Reminds me of when I got that Tic Tac stuck up my nose. But you already know all about that.” Wasn’t
he
feeling ornery tonight.
“Right, right.” She fidgeted with her fingernails.“Those kids. Oh, my goodness, the things they say. I could fill a book. One day in the spring, I went home early because I’d developed a fever, and Mia, this adorable little girl, told her mom I went home with a temper! Can you imagine?”
“Must be pretty entertaining.” She was nothing like Sabrina. Not that she wasn’t nice. She seemed sweet, but she wasn’t Sabrina.
He pulled alongside DeMarco’s clapboard building and parked, then helped Arielle from the car. The shingled sign over the front windows swung in the wind.
“This looks so quaint. I love Italian.”
Tucker opened the door for her, and the host greeted them.
“Hey, Tucker.” Brant Morgan shook his hand.
Tucker introduced Arielle, then Brant seated them at a table for two by the front window. The restaurant smelled of seafood and garlic, and Tucker’s stomach gave a rumble.
Across the room, he recognized an older man he’d taken to Martha’s Vineyard a couple days before, along with the man’s wife. The Wescotts were old money—he’d seen all the signs—and Mr. Wescott was a semiretired attorney.
Mr. Wescott caught his eye, a quick look of recognition followed by a crease on his forehead. Before the man could look away, Tucker nodded his chin upward. The guy probably wondered how a boat driver could afford a place like this. Tucker’s lips twitched.
Arielle opened the menu, but her eyes took in the restaurant’s atmosphere. “It’s like a cozy country inn, very intimate. And it has nice flow, which is unusual for a restaurant.”
Tucker opened the menu and perused the items, though he knew what he was ordering. “Are you interested in decorating?”
“It’s a hobby. I’ve already rearranged Sabrina’s loft. The furniture placement was all wrong. She needs to change the wall color, but I haven’t quite decided on a color.”
“Well, you just got here.”
Her smile seemed to freeze for a minute. “That’s true. I’ve got plenty of time to decide. That olive green is so dark and depressing.”
He wondered what she meant by “plenty of time.” “How long can you stay?”
She closed her menu. “A little over two weeks. We’ll have plenty of time together.”
He tried for a smile. “That’s great.” Over two weeks. How many dates would he have to go on? He’d figured on two or three tops. This was getting worse and worse. Maybe he could email and say the spark just isn’t there in person. That was a thought.
The server arrived to take their drink orders, but since they’d decided what they wanted, they ordered their food as well. He wanted the date to be over, and the sooner they got their food, the sooner he could take her home.
Relax. You don’t want her thinking you’re eager to get rid of her.
He felt a moment’s pang at the thought. It wasn’t that she wasn’t nice, but he was tired of feeling uncomfortable. And it wasn’t the stiff shoes.
While they waited for their food, Arielle more than held up her end of the conversation, but service was slow, as was typical for a fine-dining establishment. His faking skills lacked, and he didn’t have it in him to try harder. Still, she didn’t seem to notice.
“Oh, my goodness, this looks delicious,” she said when the server set their plates down. She stabbed a small chunk of spinach leaves and slid it into her mouth.
Tucker placed the white cloth napkin in his lap, said a quick silent prayer, then dug his fork into the capellini. He ate here regularly, and the shrimp-and-pasta dish was his favorite, but tonight his taste buds seemed numb.
“This place is hopping. I’m surprised you were able to get a table on such short notice.”
“Fine dining is huge here, especially during the summer. This place books up a week in advance, but Brant’s an old friend, so he squeezed us in.”
“Is Nantucket the kind of place where everyone knows everyone? The island’s not awfully big.”
“Yes and no. In the summer the place swells with tourists and summer people. A lot of them own homes and come back year after year, so you get to know them. I have a lot of repeat customers that I’ve gotten to know pretty well.”
They talked between bites of food, her mostly. When the server brought their bill, he tucked the cash inside the leather folder and set his napkin on his plate.
He didn’t want her to feel rushed, but she’d finished her salad and refused dessert. Maybe she was ready to call it a night too. Or maybe she’d suggest they go somewhere else. Dread parked itself at the curb and fed the meter.
“You probably have to get up early in the morning,” she said. “Maybe we should call it a night.”
He exhaled quietly. “I do have an early run. Would you mind?”
She set her napkin on her plate and scooted her chair back. “Not at all. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up.”
That’s what he was afraid of. Tucker walked her to the car and helped her inside, then slid behind the wheel. The evening was warm and dark, the stars dotting the cloudless sky.
“Thank you so much for supper. I haven’t had a salad that tasty in years, truly.”
“You’re welcome.”
They talked about his job on the way home, and he told her stories he’d repeated a dozen times to other people. Before he knew it, he was pulling into Sabrina’s drive. A light shone from the window, and he thought he saw the movement of a shadow. He put the car in park, turned off the ignition, and helped Arielle out.
As they ascended the steps, his mind spun. Would she expect a kiss? Should he shake her hand? Hug her? Nothing seemed appropriate. None of it appealed.
They reached the small landing, and she faced him in the circle of porch light. Her skin glowed golden. “Would you like to come in for a few minutes?”
His eyes went to the window. He wanted to see Sabrina, but not under these conditions. “Not tonight, thanks. I should get home and to bed.”
She touched his arm.“Well, thanks so much again for a wonderful supper.”
“You’re welcome.” Should they make plans to meet again? She probably expected him to, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He only wanted to get home and write Sabrina.
Sweetpea: When Jared left me for my cousin, I couldn’t help but think of my dad and the pain he went through when my mom died. I even wondered if suicidal tendencies were hereditary. Is that crazy?
Sabrina pressed her face to her bedroom wall and peered through the sliver between the drapes. It seemed Tucker and Arielle had been gone an eternity. She tried to stay busy with last-minute research for Renny’s new manuscript, but her mind hadn’t left Tucker and Arielle all night.
A glance at her digital clock proved they’d been gone less than three hours, not long for a date. But, oh, those hours had crawled.
When Arielle and Tucker came into view, her mood deflated like a punctured party balloon. They looked perfect together. Arielle in her gauzy white dress that displayed her long, lean legs, and Tucker in his crisp white polo that showed off his broad shoulders. Her sleek blonde hair was the perfect foil for his dark curls. They looked like a couple. Like the wealthy summer people who sunned in the afternoon and dined in the evening at the exclusive restaurants.
They stopped on the landing, Arielle too close to the door to be visible from her position. Tucker was in full view, the cone of porch light a mellow spotlight on him. Would he kiss her goodnight?
Please, no.
She didn’t think she could bear it. The image of Jared and Jaylee flashed like a blinding beacon in her mind, the memory so fresh it stole her breath.
She turned, pinning her eyes to the opposite wall, to the shadowed painting of a meadow she’d bought at a Nantucket gallery the summer before.
Arielle wouldn’t let him kiss her, would she? Then again, she’d asked her cousin to play the part. And wouldn’t Tucker find it odd if she turned away?
Why didn’t I have this conversation with Arielle?
Unable to resist, needing to know the truth, no matter how much it hurt, Sabrina peeked through the slit. She heard Arielle’s voice, muted, then Tucker’s. Why hadn’t she thought to crack the window?
Her cousin reached out and touched Tucker’s arm. Sabrina pressed her lips together. Was touching really necessary? She waited to see how Tucker responded.
But after a small smile, he was turning away, and then she heard the click of the front door closing.
Tucker’s footsteps thudded down the stairs, and a moment later his car started.
“It’s safe to come out now,” Arielle called.
Was it? Did she want to hear about the date?
It’s not like you have a choice. You’re going to write him, and he’s going to find it a little odd if you have date amnesia.
A tap sounded at her door. “Sabrina? I know you’re awake.”
“Come in.” She plopped on the bed as Arielle entered and flipped on the lamp.
Arielle’s dress flared across the bed as she sank down. “Aren’t you going to ask?”
“Ask what?”
“You know very well what. He didn’t try to kiss me goodnight—not that I would’ve let him.”
Sabrina didn’t know how to respond. Admit she’d been worried? Pretend she didn’t care?
“In fact, I have to say it was nice to go out with a gentleman. He didn’t so much as touch me all night.”
Relief flowed through her. Then a second later, she wondered why he hadn’t. If he felt as strongly about Sweetpea as he claimed, wouldn’t he want to touch her? Hold her hand? Maybe he was taking it slow, afraid of rushing after it had taken so long to find her.
“Did he ask how I found you?” Sabrina asked. They’d invented a story about Sabrina finding Sweetpea on another chat site, just in case.
Arielle frowned. “Actually, he didn’t. So much for all that planning and rehearsing.”
“Well, he might ask next time.” The whole idea of a next time made her want to vomit. “Or the time after that.”
Arielle spread out beside Sabrina and rolled to her side. “We went to DeMarco. Have you been there?”
“Not a restaurant I can afford on my salary, but I’ve heard it’s good.”
“Oh, my goodness. That salad was heavenly. They brought around this dessert tray, and the panna cotta looked so yummy, but I knew you were waiting with bated breath, so I said I was full, but truth be told, I could have
so
tied into that thing.”
Sabrina felt a stab of guilt for the jealousy she’d felt moments ago. “I appreciate that. So, what did you talk about all night?”
“A lot of nothing, really. I told him about teaching preschool and that I live in Macon. You said that was okay, right?”
He would’ve been suspicious if Arielle had kept her occupation a secret. “Right.” Sabrina turned to face Arielle, propping her head on her palm.
“So, let’s see, we talked a little about his job and about Nantucket. I told him I’d be here for two more weeks.”
He must’ve jumped for joy. Maybe the whole kiss thing had worked out for tonight, but did she really think a red-blooded man was going to keep his hands off a woman like Arielle for two weeks?
“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.