On the Rocks (A Turtle Island Novel) (14 page)

And he certainly was nice to look at.

She swung her gaze to the door and saw that he hadn’t stepped outside yet. Instead, he stood there, eyes on her. He gave a solemn nod and disappeared into the night. When she turned back to the table, Kayla wore a knowing look.

“What?” Ginger asked defensively.

“Only a friend.”

“He is.”

“Right.” Kayla plucked a chip from the basket. “A friend you wouldn’t mind taking care of—how did you put it?—your ‘womanly needs’?”

C
HAPTER
T
EN

W
omanly needs.

Ginger still couldn’t believe she’d said that to Carter. She’d been attempting to aggravate him about Gregg, but had she come off as wanton instead? Desperate?

Kayla had kept on about it well beyond the third margarita and into the fourth, but then they’d captured the attention of a couple of other guys. This time, both men being nearer their age. And finally Kayla had shut up and done a little flirting of her own. The result being that they’d both walked away last night with upcoming dates.

“I found the absolute
best
dress for you this morning.” Ginger’s mother interrupted the mental replaying of the night before as she and Clint came through the back door. They joined Ginger on the deck, her mom carrying a tray of vegetables and dip, and Clint moving to fire up the grill. They wore matching navy polos and khaki shorts.

“Please tell me it has no ruffles.” Ginger reached for a carrot stick.

“Only a few around the neck area.” Her mom fluttered her hands around her shoulders. “And the skirt is a little full, but they aren’t ruffles.”

Ginger stared at her mother. Did the woman not know her at all?

“The best thing about it is the color,” her mom added. “You’ll love it. The green will highlight your complexion nicely.”

“And your eyes,” Clint added in.

Ginger lifted a brow. “She talked you into shopping with her?”

He ducked his head as if realizing what he’d given away. He was cute when embarrassed. “She convinced me it would be fun.”

“And was it?” Ginger chomped into the carrot while Clint studied his shoes.

“Clinton Connelly,” her mother exclaimed at his obvious resistance. She joined him at the grill, one arm sliding around his waist, and leaned into him. “Don’t you dare say you didn’t have fun with me today. I know for a fact that you did.”

Clint lifted steady brown eyes to Ginger and recited “I had fun with her today” as if having been coached to say the words, but behind the monotone, Ginger spotted true happiness.

Her mom huffed at the comment and crossed to settle into the chair beside Ginger. “Don’t believe him,” she said. “He picked out more for the wedding than I did.”

Ginger gawked at Clint. “I’ve been shopping with her before. Her credit card company and she are on a first-name basis. If what she says is true, then that’s quite a statement.”

The man came close to blushing, and both women laughed.

It was a lazy Saturday evening, and her mom and Clint had offered to fix dinner. Ginger had offered to hold down her favorite chair. She’d been up since well before daylight, having had a huge charter that morning, and she was beyond exhausted. If it weren’t for the fact that she’d picked up another new book at the bookstore after work, she’d turn in early.

Instead, she planned to read until an ungodly hour. The author was another favorite, and was sure to scare, and she didn’t have to work tomorrow.

The three of them talked wedding and honeymoon plans over the next forty-five minutes, while Clint impressed with his grilling skills, and they ate fat juicy burgers at the outdoor dinette set.

While cleaning up from the meal, her mother suddenly whirled around.

“Well, if it isn’t Carter Ridley,” she said with great enthusiasm. Carter stood at the side of the deck, seemingly hesitant at the sight of finding all three of them there, and her mother rushed down the steps to embrace him. “I’ve been waiting to catch sight of you. Hoping I’d see you without having to break down and invite myself over.” She pulled back and took him in, then gave him a smile that was full of love and memories. “But I was just about out of patience.”

Carter hugged her back, surprising Ginger with a wide smile of his own. It was a nice moment, and reminded Ginger of the many times both families had enjoyed summer cookouts or afternoons at the beach together.

“It’s great to see you, Mrs. Atkinson. Sorry for not being around a lot. I’ve been . . .”

He paused and Ginger filled in with “Hiding behind the blinds.”

“What?” her mom asked, looking up at Ginger.

“Nothing,” Ginger muttered. She dropped to her chair and Carter shot her a look, but it wasn’t the surly one he’d shared so often since being home. In fact, she wasn’t sure what kind of look it was. Inquisitive?

Intrigued?

Wondering about her “womanly needs”? Geez . . . how embarrassing.

“You two always had your secrets,” her mom mused, but let the moment pass. She patted Carter’s cheek. “Come on up. I want you to meet Clint. Where’s Julie?” She asked the question as she led him up the steps.

“She went out with a couple of friends tonight.”

“Good for her. She wasn’t getting out for a while there. We’ll have you both over soon. We’ll grill out.”

“I’d enjoy that.”

Ginger stared. Who was this man? And where was his bad attitude?

Clint had waited on the deck along with Ginger, and when Carter hit the top step, he reached for the older man’s hand. “Congratulations. I heard about the engagement. You got a good one.”

“Thank you.” Clint’s voice had a way of booming, but at the same time being gentle. He draped an arm around her mother’s shoulders. “And I agree. These Atkinson girls”—Clint took in both women—“they’re a special breed.”

“That they are.”

Once again, Carter gave Ginger a strange look, but she still had no idea what it meant. She was too surprised by his shift in mood to figure it out.

“Want a beer?” Clint asked. He held up the one in his hand.

“Love one.”

Ginger’s mom looked at her and nudged her head toward the house. When Ginger just stared back, as if not understanding the intent, her mother whispered, “Go get him a beer, Ginger.”

Ginger held up her hands in question. What happened to the agreement that she didn’t have to lift a finger tonight? But when one side of Carter’s mouth lifted at the interaction between her and her mother, she rolled her eyes and crawled from her chair. As she went into the house, she caught herself wondering how bad she looked. Or smelled.

Then she reminded herself that it was only Carter out there. And she wasn’t on a date.

“Thanks,” he said when she handed him an opened bottle a few moments later. He propped a hip against the railing, and spent several minutes talking with her mom and Clint while Ginger finished clearing the table. On each trip back out of the house, she silently observed Carter. He was definitely different today. Easier.
Happier.

He was more like the Carter she’d once known.

“Oh!” Her mom squealed as Ginger once again stepped through the back door. She held her left hand out to Carter. “I didn’t show you my ring.” She flapped her fingers in the air, and the gigantic rock still managed to flash in the almost-set sun. “Isn’t it just the grandest thing?”

“It is nice,” Carter agreed. He eyed the ring carefully. “Be sure to show Julie.”

“I stopped off at the gallery earlier this week,” her mom admitted with a grin. “I like to check in on her once in a while.” She admired the diamonds for one last second before letting out a wistful sigh and lowering her hand. She peered up at Carter. “She looked good. Said you’d been fattening her up.”

“I’m trying. I like to cook, actually. I hadn’t done much of it in a while.”

“He’s fattened up, too,” Ginger blurted.

All eyes turned to her, her mother’s horrified. “Ginger!” she gasped.

“I didn’t meant
fat
.” Carter watched her with a twinkle in his eye, and she explained, “You were too thin when you first came home.”

“Really?” he asked. He looked down at himself, his expression turning perplexed. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Don’t worry. You look good now.”

And again, her mouth said what it wasn’t supposed to. But he smiled at her once more.

So she smiled back.

“Well,” her mother said. “Clint? Can you help me inside?”

“Sure.” Clint tossed his empty bottle into the blue recycle bin, glass clinking against glass, and hurried after his intended.

At the door, her mom turned back. “It’s really good to see you again, Carter. Don’t be a stranger. Julie said you’re redoing the kitchen. Does that mean the oven is being pulled out?”

“It went yesterday.”

“Then consider our kitchen yours.” She glanced at Ginger before adding, “I’ll fix you and Julie a casserole tomorrow and send Ginger over with it. But feel free to use our kitchen anytime. I like knowing that Julie is eating better.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Atkinson. I appreciate it.”

“And for goodness’ sake, call me Pam.”

She and Clint disappeared into the house, and at the same time the back door closed, the sun dipped below the roofline, and the deck was cast in shadows. Ginger moved to the storage box and found a lighter. As she finished lighting the last of the torches, a second clang of glass rang out behind her as Carter tossed his bottle into the bin.

She looked back. “Want another?”

He shook his head. “I only took that one to be nice.”

She considered questioning his words; she pictured the empty bottles from his house once again. But decided to leave it alone. The mood was good tonight, and she didn’t want to spoil it. She returned to her chair, and he motioned to the lounger beside her.

“Do you mind?” he asked.

“Make yourself at home. Seems the kitchen is already yours anyway.” She winked, and he actually laughed. Not a chuckle, but a laugh.

It took her breath away.

“I wish you’d do that more often,” she said. “You’re so much more
you
when you smile.”

Of course, her words shut him up.

She stretched her legs out in front of her and leaned back against the wooden slats, and they sat silent for a few minutes, each in their own thoughts. Around them the night grew darker. A palmetto bug buzzed by and she swatted at it. She also looked longingly toward the back door. She didn’t mean to, but her book was sitting on the counter right inside there. If Carter didn’t intend to talk . . .

“Not reading tonight?”

Was the man in her head?

“I will after you leave.” She grimaced when she realized how that sounded. “Not that I’m suggesting you go.”

“Good.” He settled deeper into the chair, mimicking her pose by putting his feet up. “I could stand to do something other than sit behind the blinds tonight.”

Her laughter floated through the air. “Sorry about that comment. It was rude of me.”

“It’s true.”

She turned to look at him, but he had his eyes closed. He seemed completely relaxed. It bothered her every time she looked at the house next door and saw that he’d shuttered the outside world. “Did your ex hurt you that badly?” she asked softly.

Since he’d told her that he was divorced, she’d wanted to know more. She wanted to help.

“Yes.” His answer was simple. He didn’t offer anything additional.

So she let it go.

Closing her own eyes, she slouched down in her seat and enjoyed the moment for what it was. Two friends hanging out. Even if she did have a little flutter once again.

“What kind of books do you read?”

She turned her head to look at him when he spoke. He faced her the same way. The light from the fire flickered across his eyes,
and though an air of hurt and distance still lingered around him
tonight, there was also something more. It struck her that the
new thing she was witnessing seemed like acceptance. For what,
she wasn’t
sure. But it was there. He had a calmer, less-defensive demeanor
about him.

Had he accepted that his life was different now? Was he ready to move on?

“Horror,” she answered. “The scarier the better.”

One dark eyebrow shot up while his chin dipped down. “That’s what you read out here every night? By firelight? With no pants on?”

She covered her face in embarrassment. “I wear pants
sometimes
.” She peeked through her fingers. “And anyway, you should be glad I’m not out here completely naked.”

“No.” The word was spoken quickly and intentionally, then the corners of his mouth inched up and he totally checked her out. “I
shouldn’t
.”

“Really, Carter.” She made a snorting noise in the back of her throat. “You’re flirting with me.”

“So? You flirted with me last night.”

“I was drunk last night. What’s your excuse?”

He paused, his eyes seeming to lose focus for a moment before he answered. “Practice?” The word was a question, but didn’t seem to need an answer. “I’ve been in a slump lately.”

Join the club
, she thought. Her life often seemed like a slump. But what she said out loud was “I figured along with the smoking and drinking, you were also busy sleeping with all the wrong women.”

Wasn’t that the stereotype?

“I’m not sleeping with anyone.” He spoke quietly. Then the acceptance thing she’d thought she’d witnessed was gone. It was all pain and hurt once again. “You ever feel so badly about yourself that you didn’t even want to sleep with the wrong people?” he asked.