Chapter 5
“It’s cute how you think I’ll give up.” ~ Maya
Maya
I glance down at the food on my kitchen counter. Fried chicken? Check. Caramel popcorn? Check. Bags of M&Ms? Check. Plus, bread, cheese, and cold cuts.
This should do Caleb for at least a few days. I know he hasn’t been going grocery shopping – someone would have seen him and I would have heard about it via the smuggler’s grapevine – and he hasn’t been getting his groceries delivered. There is no grocery delivery service on Smuggler’s Island.
I pack everything into a picnic basket. Time to commence Operation Find Out Why Caleb Thinks Everyone In His Life Is Better Without Him. Step one. Get him to talk to me. Step two. Think of a better name for this operation.
I carry the picnic basket to the car but before I switch on the engine, I check the Where Is Sammy? app. Sammy, the seal, isn’t as much of a bother this time of year. When it gets chilly and the tourists don’t visit, he tends to behave but it’s better to be safe than sorry .
There have been no sightings of him on the road to Hideaway Haven Resort. Good. I’m off.
To make things clear, I am not a stalker. Did I snoop around to find out where Caleb is staying? I did. But it’s for his own good, which disqualifies me as a stalker.
I turn onto the unpaved driveway leading to Caleb’s cabin. Actually, the cabin belongs to Hudson. He bought all of the land surrounding his resort to ensure no one would build a housing settlement nearby. A useless endeavor since the smugglers on the island would never have allowed a housing settlement anyway.
I hit a bump and my head nearly crashes into the ceiling of my car. I slow down to navigate the rest of the way to the cabin.
The tension in my shoulders releases when I reach the cabin and notice a truck parked in front of it and the lights on inside. Caleb’s home.
Don’t get me wrong. I would have dropped the food off for him regardless of whether he was home or not. But I want to see him. I want to feast my eyes on the man I’ve been missing for twelve long years. Letters, emails, and the extremely rare Facetime chat are no substitute for the flesh and blood man.
I park in front of the cabin and grab the basket before jumping out of the car and rushing to the front door. The wind off of the Atlantic hits me and I shiver. I should have worn a thicker jacket.
“Caleb!” I shout as I knock on the door. When he doesn’t answer, I shout again, “I brought you food and groceries. ”
I hear footsteps inside the cabin. He’s definitely here.
I knock again. “Come on, Caleb. It’s cold out here.”
“Go home, Maya. I don’t want you here.”
His words pierce through my heart. I glance down to make sure I’m not bleeding out on his front porch. But there’s no actual blood. This pain is not visible. But it exists. Sure as I’m standing here.
If he thinks he can push me away, he’s wrong. I’m not giving up. I can’t. This isn’t the Caleb I know. My pen pal would never turn me away. There’s something else going on here. And I will figure it out. I will help Caleb.
“Too bad. I’m here now. Let me in.”
“Since when is my shy Maya stubborn?” he grumbles.
“I can be stubborn and shy at the same time.”
He doesn’t realize it, but with him I’m not shy. I’m not evasive or afraid of crowds or downcast or quiet with him. Caleb makes me feel safe. Makes me feel as if I can say whatever is on my mind. Makes me feel as if he’ll protect me if there are too many people crowding me.
“Come on,” I cajole. “I have your favorite foods here. Fried chicken, caramel popcorn, M&Ms.”
“You know how to tempt a man.”
I nearly snort. Me? Maya Jenkins? Tempt a man? Not likely.
The few boyfriends I’ve had weren’t tempted by me. A more accurate description is they thought I’d be easy since I’m quiet and shy. They learned quiet and shy doesn’t mean a pushover the hard way since this not-a-pushover knows how to knee a man where it’ll hurt the worst .
“I made the chicken right before I came here. It’s still hot. I can smell how yummy it is.” He doesn’t respond but I know he’s listening, so I continue, “And the popcorn is caramel. You’re favorite.”
“You didn’t burn it this time?”
“I burned popcorn once in my life. And it wasn’t my fault.”
“Someone else turned the oven up to the max temperature?”
“I thought it would get done twice as fast if I doubled the temperature.”
“It’s no wonder you failed home economics.”
“Home economics is stupid. It shouldn’t be a required class in high school.”
“I agree, but at least I was smart enough to not tell the teacher what I thought.”
I huff. “I didn’t tell Ms. Zimmerman what I thought of Home Ec.”
“Of course not. You wrote a letter to the principal outlining why home economics was an element of the male patriarchy and should be stopped.”
“I didn’t write the letter. Paisley did. And you know it.”
“But you signed the letter.”
I have no response. Of course, I signed the letter. I was getting a B minus in the class. It was ruining my grade point average. My only shot at attending college without taking out a gazillion student loans was an academic scholarship. B minus does not say academic scholarship.
“Let me in. My arms are getting tired holding this basket. ”
“You’re still refusing to go to the gym to work on your upper body strength?”
Working out is nearly as bad as attending a home economics class. I hate getting all sweaty. I hate all the mirrors reflecting my image at me from every angle imaginable. I hate the way everyone in the gym judges you.
“The only gym on the island is at Hideaway Haven Resort and it’s too expensive for my blood.”
“Too expensive?” I can practically hear the frown in his voice. “I thought Five Fathoms Brewing was doing well.”
“It’s doing better than well. Our beer is officially stocked in grocery stores from Maine to Miami.”
Our beer is also why my arms are killing me. I added a six-pack to the bottom of the basket.
“Proud of you, Bunny.”
His use of his nickname for me causes a bomb of warmth to explode in my chest. What I wouldn’t do for him to use the nickname as a sign of love.
Stop it, Maya. Caleb does not now love you and he never will. He’s my friend. Do I want more? Hell, yeah. But Caleb has made it perfectly clear how he feels over the years. And what he feels isn’t romantic love. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he invented the word friendzone.
“I brought you a six-pack sampler of Five Fathoms. ” I lift up the basket as if to show him but then remember – he’s hiding behind a locked door.
“I’ve tried your beer. It’s good.”
“You’ve tried it? When? We can’t exactly ship to the Middle East.”
He chuckles. “Hudson carries the beer at the resort. And, before you ask, Hudson sent over a care package when I arrived. I didn’t go to the resort.”
I wasn’t going to ask. I admit I’m curious. But I’m not nosy.
Fine. I am nosy. But this is Caleb. The guy who helped me down from the monkey bars in second grade when a group of boys from fifth grade chased me up there.
Climbing up wasn’t a problem, but getting back down? Nuh-uh. I wasn’t about to climb down. Until Caleb came over and gently showed me how to get down without jumping.
When the fifth grade boys made fun of him for helping the baby, he simply ignored them. It was magnificent. And a crush was born. A crush I’ve yet to get over. Despite dating other men. Despite nearly two decades passing. The crush lives on.
“Which beer did you enjoy the most? I can bring over a six-pack tomorrow.”
He growls and despite knowing the growl is fueled by anger, my body warms and my breasts tingle. This must be how those romance heroines feel in the romances I love to read. Full of anticipation and excitement. Anxious for the next chapter.
“Maya,” he grumbles. “You’re not hearing me.”
“I can hear you just fine. Although, I have to admit, I could hear you better if you opened the door. It’s probably warmer inside too. The wind is a cold mistress today.”
“Damnit, Maya. You’re cold? Get in your car and go home.”
Maya this. Maya that. What about Bunny ?
I shake those thoughts out of my mind. I’m not Caleb’s bunny. Although, my nose is probably pink from the cold. And I am shaking.
“I’m serious, Maya,” Caleb says before I can come up with another reason he should let me inside his house. “Leave me alone. I don’t want any company.”
“Fine. But I’m leaving you the food and you will eat it and enjoy it. Plus, you’ll miss me and wish I was here while you’re eating.”
I set the basket on the porch in front of the door and back up. I wait a minute. Hoping he’ll open the door to get the food and I’ll get my chance to barge inside but the door stays closed.
Darn it. Caleb has way more patience than me.
“I’m not giving up!” I shout as I hurry down the steps to my car.
I don’t bother waiting for Caleb to come out while I’m in my car. He’s being extremely stubborn right now.
But there’s one thing he didn’t count on. I can be more stubborn. Especially when the subject is important. And this subject – making sure Caleb doesn’t turn into a hermit – is the most important of all.
I will prove to him the world is not better off without him in it.
My breath seizes in my chest at the thought. I can’t imagine a world without Caleb in it. Even if he is halfway across the globe and out of my reach.