On The Beach (Modern Vintage)

24. The Bottom Feeders Charm

CHAPTER 24

the bottom feeder's charm

BELLE

M ick became insufferable after he met Anna and Dan, and they exchanged phone numbers. Apparently, Darcy, his cousin, was a hotshot journalist and had also exchanged numbers with my traitorous sister, who had decided that she and Darcy would become great friends and wanted to introduce her as she was single and ready to mingle to the new head of ER who had been dubbed McSexy by the female population of Mass Gen.

Mick had charmed my sister and Dan and was now in the process of charming my parents, who were usually reluctant to be impressed.

I watched, barely keeping my irritation in check, as Mick strolled into my parents' house like he belonged there. Somehow, he'd managed to snag himself an invitation to Sunday family dinner, and now I had to endure the sight of him charming his way through the room, amiable as ever to every single Volnay. My mother, of course, was practically fawning over him, cooing like he was some long-lost favorite nephew she hadn't seen in years.

"Mick, it's such a pleasure to have you with us," my mother, Dr. Molly Volnay, said warmly, a touch of intrigue in her eyes. She was a high-powered anesthesiologist and always took a keen interest in anyone who could keep up with her intellectually. Unfortunately for me, Mick seemed to fit right into that category.

"You're no Diogenes, I can tell," my father mentioned when they first met.

"Thank you?" he replied, glancing at me for backup, clearly wondering if this was a compliment or an insult. Like hell I was going to help him.

You wanted to be here, beach bum, and it's your funeral . I hoped my father would roast his ass to a fine crisp.

That did not happen because he put a spell on my father as well. The son of a bitch!

My father continued, "Diogenes rejected society's norms, yes, but he also lived in a barrel and famously insulted everyone he met. You, on the other hand, have simply stepped out of the race."

Mick grinned widely. "I do prefer hammocks to barrels. They're far less cramped."

My father gave him a slight nod, his expression serious. "You know, there's a fine line between a philosopher and a fool. Diogenes knew that—he chose not to care."

Mick chuckled, glancing at me. "Noted. I'll keep my philosophizing to a minimum. I wouldn't want to give the impression that I'm about to start living in a barrel."

Daddy allowed himself a small smile. "Smart man." He clapped Mick on the shoulder. "Better to keep your feet in the sand than your head in the clouds."

How Mick was keeping up with my father's nonsense, I didn't know. Most people, Anna and me included, didn't always follow Daddy. He was quirky in the quirkiest ways possible.

"I agree, Sir. "

"Good man, call me Charlie; Sir is some idiot," my dad remarked. "Speaking of which, you go by Dr. Augustus or Nicholas or Captain Mick or…."

"Mick," he replied with an easy smile. "I'm sure Belle would rather you forget the Dr. Augustus part."

"Belle is a stickler and hangs on to past mistakes like plaque in an artery—no matter how small, she lets it build up until it blocks everything else," my father, Dr. Charles Volnay, chimed in, a twinkle in his eye. He was a top cardiac surgeon with the wit and humor to match my mother's weirdness, which ran in the family. He looked over at me, clearly delighted by the whole situation.

"Very funny, Dad," I muttered, crossing my arms as I leaned against the kitchen counter. Mick shot me a grin over his wine glass, and I could already tell he was loving every second of this. I wanted to wring his neck. Not! It was actually lovely seeing him fit so well with my family. He was all my dreams come true, except he'd broken my heart, and I didn't quite know how I felt about him anymore. It was easier back in Reef Harbor, but in the cold reality of Cambridge, my emotions were murky, and I didn't know if I could trust Mick or what it would mean if I did.

"Always knew you were the wrong kind of doctor, Belle. Genetics and research—should've stuck with something practical," my father couldn't resist cracking out the old hits, this one being his favorite.

"Belle is a geneticist," my mother said, topping off Mick's glass, her smile warm and her approval obvious. My parents liked to joke that they weren't alcoholics, just heavy drinkers, when they weren't on call or in the OR. "She's always been stubborn, bless her heart. It's like trying to intubate a patient who refuses to stay still—she'll keep at it until she gets it right, no matter how much effort it takes."

"You know, bless her heart is Southern slang for good luck dealing with her ," I interjected.

My mother, who was decidedly not Southern and prided herself on her New England sensibilities, gave a short laugh. "Oh, don't worry, darling. I meant it the New England way: tough as nails and nearly as sharp."

My father chuckled, raising his glass. "And trust me, she gets it from her mother."

I rolled my eyes, reaching for my glass of peach fizz. No alcohol for me tonight. "Thanks, guys. It's great to know I'm universally considered a handful."

Mick just laughed, lifting his glass with a wink in my direction. "No complaints here. Handful is good."

He looked at my tits, and I wanted to smack him and fuck him both at the same time.

"Like I said, she's stubborn," my mother, who was clinically diagnosed as a Type-A perfectionist, said, eyeing me with a hint of pride, "Practically immovable once she's set on something. Like one of those double helix DNA strands, all twisted up and impossible to unwind."

Mick laughed, nodding knowingly. "Ah, so once she's got a plan, it's coded into her DNA."

My mom smirked, giving a satisfied nod. "Exactly. She's got her own genetic blueprint for being impossible."

"Can we change the topic and discuss pretty much anything else but me?" I wanted to sound sophisticated, but it came out like a whine, my tone reverting to my teenage days.

"Maybe determined would be a better word?" Mick winked, and I felt my patience thinning by the second.

Before I could respond, my cousin Lauren, who was nineteen and still in that "glamorous rebellion" phase, practically swooped in from across the room. "So, Mick, you're really a scientist who works on islands? Do you like, dive and stuff? "

"Oh, I dive, all right," Mick replied smoothly. "But mostly to catch dinner."

Lauren laughed, twirling her hair around her finger. "That's so cool. I'm thinking of studying marine biology, actually. I mean, all those exotic beaches...."

"Oh, Lauren, I could teach you a thing or two about beaches," he teased.

Flirting with a nineteen-year-old, Mick? Seriously?

Lauren tittered, absolutely enamored, and I rolled my eyes. This was going to be a long night.

My Aunt Sarah and Uncle Philip, Lauren's parents and genetically related to my father, exchanged glances, clearly entertained by Mick's antics. "Lauren, dear, let the poor man breathe," Uncle Philip said, though he didn't sound remotely serious.

Mick shrugged, smiling as if he didn't mind at all. "No worries, Philip. I'm more than happy to answer any questions about beach life, genetics… or anything else."

"So, what brought you back to Cambridge? Must be something serious to leave island life behind," my father wanted to know.

I stiffened, bracing myself for whatever clever answer Mick was about to concoct.

He looked right at me, eyes warm and full of sincerity that made my stomach flip. "Something…or rather, someone, convinced me it was worth the trip."

"Ooohh!" Lauren squealed, and my parents exchanged delighted glances while my aunt and uncle chuckled from their corner of the room. I felt my face burn as every set of eyes turned toward me.

My mother beamed, clearly delighted. "Well, Belle, you didn't tell us he was such a charmer!"

I managed a strained smile, willing myself not to explode. "What can I say, Mama? He's a barrel of…charm. "

"Very unexpected from the way you described him," my father commented.

"I never told you about him," I protested.

"True, Anna did," Daddy conceded.

Mick looked at me with that maddening grin of his, eyes twinkling with mischief. "What can I say? Life's full of surprises."

I sighed, resigning myself to an evening of watching my family fall completely under his spell. At this rate, they'd be suggesting wedding venues by dessert.