Love Is for the Birds

14. Teddy

TEDDY WATCHED JACK’S BIG RED TRUCK DRIVE AWAY. HER words had wiped all the polish from his face and that friendly Texas smile from his lips. “Stupid, stupid.”

She leashed Pickles and jogged to Walt’s shop. When he wasn’t there, she turned to the beach. The conversation with Jack replayed in her head; the expression on his face haunted her. She’d done the right thing. Running from one man to the next was never a good idea. She was already the talk of the town. Plus, Jack had a wife who seemed very much alive in his mind.

Out on the Gulf, Walt bobbed on his board just beyond the first break. He waved. Pickles tugged at the leash. Teddy released her, and the dog charged the waves.

Board in hand, Walt ran out of the water, his board shorts hanging precariously on the points of his hip bones. If the waves were halfway decent in the morning or at dusk, Walt would be surfing. He shook his mop of hair like a dog and sprayed Teddy with a shower of Gulf water.

“It’s freezing.” Teddy wiggled away. “Grow up.”

“Never.”

Walt proceeded to describe each of his rides down to the last detail. Over the years, she’d learned enough surfing lingo to follow about half of his conversation. Not that she hadn’t surfed plenty in her lifetime, but she’d never totally surrendered to the laid-back surfing lifestyle and lingo.

“Have fun in H-Town?” Walt grinned, then elbowed her. “I bet Bachelor Number One was glad to see you.” He made a suggestive movement with his hips.

“Once again, grow up. For your information, Daniel and I broke up.”

“That’s rad.” Walt raised his hand and started to give Teddy a complicated bro handshake, but she stopped him.

“No, it’s not rad.” She swatted him.

“Let’s go have some vino. Maybe something stronger.” He patted her on the back.

They walked up a beach trail between the sand dunes toward Walt’s house. Pickles kept close at their heels.

“Would you rather go to Dot’s?” The gate hung on one hinge and scraped the sand as Walt opened it.

“No!” Teddy yelled.

Walt jerked his head toward Teddy. “Okay. Let’s get real here. You sit.” He pointed to an Adirondack chair and disappeared into the house.

Walt lived in a tiny one-bedroom bungalow conveniently located just a half block from the beach. The white picket fence wobbled in the wind. Teddy marveled that any fence remained.

Walt returned with a bottle of white wine and two plastic wine glasses. “Compliments of Christina.” He settled into his chair and said, “Spill it.”

She frowned. “I think I was too hard on Jack. I said I didn’t leave Daniel for him. I left him for me. I think I hurt his feelings.”

“Are you cray, cray? He’s a solid guy.” Walt shook his head.

“First of all, it’s true. Second, he’s a widower.”

“Wait, does that mean he was married, and his wife died?”

“Yes, that’s what widower means.”

“So, that’s good right. I mean, he’s not married.”

“There’s this thing about widowers, that they will always compare you to their dead wife.”

“Always? You need to chill. The two of you haven’t even been talking that long and here you are planning the wedding.”

“I am not!”

Walt shrugged. “Is that so?” He leaned forward in his chair. “That’s like trying to catch a ride before the wave even starts to break. Why are you even thinking about always? Just go with the flow.”

Maybe she was jumping the gun.

“Okay, I get the message, surfing metaphor and all.”

“You get my drift. That’s good. So, you told Daniel that he’s toast?”

“Something like that.”

“I hope you didn’t chase Jack out of town. He saved my life.”

“Excuse me? I saved your life.”

“Okay, you both saved my life.”

Walt stretched back in his chair and tilted his head to the sky where stars popped into view.

“Jack has a thing for you, Teddy. You shouldn’t have done him that way for some lame, old school rule.”

Her stomach twisted.

“He’ll be back, right? He was going to help Barb—”

“Stop!” Teddy yelled. “I didn’t chase him out of town. He’s probably at Dot’s right now . . . supposed to be anyway . . . he’s planning a benefit featuring Ace London for next week.”

“Say what?”

“You heard me. It’s a fundraiser for us. Jack’s going to sell barbecue.”

“And you told him to take a walk.” Walt stood. “Comb your hair. We’re going to town.”

On the way to Dot’s, Walt tutored her in how to recover from her wipeout—make eyes at him, listen to his every word, smile. She’d gone from a nice kiss to a relationship in less than sixty seconds without any courtship between.

They found Jack sitting at a large table surrounded by Mayor Hank, Estrella, Dot, and Barb, each of them drinking a margarita. When Teddy and Walt approached the table, Jack glanced at Teddy. With a slight smile, she gave him a little wave. He didn’t appear too angry with her.

“Staying away from alligators?” Jack stood and shook Walt’s hand.

“I’ll never live that one down, will I?”

“Never,” Barb said.

Walt pulled a chair beside Barb and slapped her on the back, leaving Teddy and Jack the only ones standing. Jack glanced around the table. He pulled the only open chair out for her. “Join us.”

Barb, in her wisdom, filled the uncomfortable pause in their meeting by describing Walt’s run-in with the alligator. Each version of the story grew more dramatic.

Jack gave Teddy a halfhearted smile. But even with a halfhearted smile, when Jack looked at her with his deep brown eyes, heat rose to her face. She wasn’t sure why she’d been so cool to him. When she shifted her eyes to his pecs and biceps, the sheer physicality of him sent a shiver deep inside her.

“Margarita?”

She jumped at the sound of his voice.

“You all right?” he asked again.

“That would be fantastic.” She averted her eyes.

Walt not-so-subtly gestured for her to practice the skills he’d taught her. Teddy used a finger to mime a knife slicing her throat.

She took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I—”

“Forget it.” Jack waved his hand as if shooing a fly.

“I don’t want things to be all weird.” Teddy’s voice cracked. He met her gaze. She lowered her eyes. Sweat pooled under her arms.

“It doesn’t have to be.” He used his best businessman voice.

Her margarita arrived. She took a big gulp of the frozen drink, and an icy cold burn filled her sinuses. “Serves me right,” she said, grabbing her forehead.

Jack grimaced. “Brain freezes are the worst. Next time, I’ll get you a margarita on the rocks.” He watched her long enough for the freeze to dissipate.

“I’m good,” she said.

Jack turned back to the table. “This would be a great time to showcase all we have to offer at Bird Isle. I asked Ace if we could have concessions, and he said we could do whatever we wanted. Barb, you could have an Animal Rescue and Whooping Crane booth. Dot, you could sell margaritas or beer, whatever they’ll let you sell. Mayor or Walt, do you have a line on T-shirts?”

If Jack could shift gears so quickly, so could Teddy. The hurricane benefit would be the perfect opportunity to showcase her fudge and maybe make some money. She’d often thought of starting an online candy business. The concert alone would expose her to thousands of people.

“Dot, do you think I could use your kitchen to make candy for the concert?”

Dot twirled her cigarette with her fingers. She didn’t smoke anymore, but she liked to have one in her hand. “If that means you’re staying in Bird Isle, then, yes.”

“I would have to cook at night so as not to bother your cooks.”

“We’re only running half a kitchen because”—Dot pointed to the empty dining tables—“there’s no one here.”

Jack put his hand on Teddy’s bare arm in a comforting way. But her heart raced.

“You don’t need to make candy,” he said. “We’ve got the beef donated.”

“I want to,” she said, raising her chin.

“It’s just that we’ve only got a week.”

“I can do it.” She tapped her fist against the table.

“I imagine making all that candy takes a long time. I’m used to smoking eighteen hundred pounds of meat a day. Piece of cake.”

She straightened in her chair. “I’ll figure out something.” She supposed Jack employed plenty of people. “Where did you get the beef anyway?” she asked.

“Uh,” Jack stammered. “Oh, you know. The usual places.”

Teddy nodded. “My grandfather raises cattle.”

Jack scraped a hand through his hair. “I . . . really?” His voice cracked. He reached for his water.

“Don’t worry, Jack.” Hank’s wife, Estrella piped in. “We’ll get Teddy the help she needs. In Bird Isle, we all stick together.”

“Huh?” Jack eyed the table. “Oh, great. That’s great,” he said, biting his cheek.