Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
W e need to talk.
Patrick’s words keep echoing in my mind as I’m waiting for him to break his silence. I’ve been sitting at the kitchen table for only a few minutes, and yet they are slowly starting to feel like hours. I can smell bad news from a mile away, what with me being an expert in receiving them, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out what Patrick needs to talk to me about.
The suspense is killing me.
He’s going to tell me sleeping with me was a mistake.
I take a sharp breath and release it slowly as I try to calm my racing heart. Obviously, he can’t be breaking up with me because we’re not dating. We haven’t defined anything at all, not even where we’re standing with regard to dividing up the house.
Is that agreement still in place after I let him take me to his room and shared more than just a bed with him?
I fight the urge to tap my fingertips against my thighs as I sneak another peek at him, wondering why he can’t just get on with it, preferably before I turn eighty and might not even remember who he is in the first place.
He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, legs crossed in front of him, gaze lowered to a spot somewhere at his feet. I can’t help but wonder whether he’s one of those neat freaks who can’t get over the speck of dirt smudging an otherwise spotless floor.
The thought brings a smile to my face.
It goes to show I know nothing about this man. Up until recently, I didn’t even know his profession. I can definitely overlook a few OCD tendencies as long as he’s willing to ignore my annoying habit of cooing at every baby that crosses my path, be it the human or furry kind. Stranger things have happened, but some men apparently see that as a big red sign of a need to procreate—and fast.
True story.
“Lori.” His deep voice finally breaks the silence, startling me.
I look up from his feet and clear my throat, vying my smile to disappear lest he ask why I’m laughing. I can’t share with him that I would be willing to ignore his shortcomings as long as he’s giving us a chance. He might be out of my league, but a girl’s got to dream and dream big, right?
“Yes?” I prompt and cross my legs, revealing the pair of sparkly pink sneakers I’ve been wearing to work. Patrick’s gaze is instantly drawn to them. They’re the sneaker version of my recently-gifted fuck-me heels, albeit with a less inflated price tag. They aren’t particularly comfortable or suitable for standing several hours on your feet, but I still haven’t shopped around for anything more fitting.
“The shoes.” He points at my feet.
“Shoes, yes. I know what footwear is. Been wearing it most of my life.” I frown, unsure where he’s heading. He can’t possibly want to talk about my sneakers. “What’s wrong with them?”
“Nothing’s wrong with them. It’s just”—there’s a glint in his eyes as he shakes his head, and I realize he’s laughing—“I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re just…”
“I’m what?” Suddenly self-conscious, I push my feet under the table, out of his sight.
Strange. Can’t measure up to all the attractive women he probably meets on a daily basis?
His glance moves up my legs slowly, slowly taking me in, and finally settles on my lips.
“Different. Gorgeous. Amazing,” he whispers under his breath.
My body warms up as if his eyes are caressing it. “I’m happy you like my sense of style.”
“It’s not your style I like. It’s you. You are different and beautiful, Lori.”
The sudden change in mood doesn’t escape me.
He’s dead serious as he takes a seat across me. For a few second, silence fills the air though his gaze remains focused on me, making me nervous.
I decide to broach the subject before morning dawns on us. While he might have all night, I’d rather get a few hours’ sleep. Looking like a raccoon with dark circles framing my eyes isn’t a good look on me.
“You said you wanted to talk.” I leave the “now would be a good time” part unspoken.
“Yes.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, hesitating, seemingly fighting for words. “You probably won’t like what I have to say, but I need you to keep an open mind. I want you to try and understand where I’m coming from.”
The “keep an open mind” thing puts me on edge. Sounds like a good primer to bad news if I ever heard one.
“I will certainly try,” I say. Can’t promise anything, though.
Patrick’s sudden grim look tells me my answer is not what he was hoping to hear. I lean forward as his eyes focus on me—two dark spots that seem to be tormented by something. He opens his mouth to say something when a phone starts ringing, the sudden intrusive noise making me flinch.
Oh, come on!
This is the epitome of bad timing. If it were my cell I’d probably toss it across the room right now. But, as much as my frustration makes me want to, I can’t damage his phone, aka his property. Of course, Patrick seizes the opportunity to postpone being the bearer of bad news and fishes it out of his pocket. He looks at the caller ID, then picks up, muttering in my direction, “Sorry. I need to take this.”
“Sure.” I force an understanding smile to my face, but it’s so strained I wouldn’t be surprised to find it snapping.
He hesitates for a moment, as though he’s waiting for me to give him privacy.
I’m already a nervous wreck. If he thinks I’ll be leaving the room he’s sorely mistaken. I’ll probably come to regret it, but there’s no way in hell he’s getting rid of me. Not when I don’t know what he was about to tell me. I can’t stand being kept in the dark. I’d rather deal with the worst and be done with it than sense something’s wrong and fret about it. My mind always excels at going in circles and picturing the worst-case scenarios possible.
Noise carries over from the cell’s speaker, but the voice is too drowned out to make out the words.
“He’s been gone since when ?” Patrick asks, frowning.
I fight the impulse to inch forward a little to tune into the conversation. Even though I can’t make out the words, I can tell the voice is female. There’s an urgency about it that makes me think something’s happened.
“Are you sure he’s not sleeping off a hangover in someone’s barn? It wouldn’t be the first time.” Patrick pauses, listening, then nods his head gravely, and his expression turns a few shades darker. “The boat’s not there. I see. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for that. No need to panic just yet, Patty. You get the girls over and make yourself a good cup of tea while we go find him. I’ll keep you updated.”
He ends the call and lowers his head for a few moments. In spite of his reassuring tone, the strain in his shoulders is obvious. Whatever’s going on, he’s more worried than he let on to Patty.
I get up from my seat and go over to him. If I knew where we’re standing I’d wrap my arms around him. Instead, I settle for placing my hand on his upper arm and giving it a soft, encouraging squeeze as I ask, “What happened?”
“Seamus, one of the local fishermen, hasn’t come home. His wife, Patty, is calling around whether anyone’s seen him. No one has and the boat’s gone.” He grimaces. “The weather’s been too bad to head out on a boat, but Seamus has never been one to heed a warning. I’m going to help with the search mission. We’ll have to postpone our conversation.”
“Of course.”
His gaze locks with mine, and for a moment something like a soft smile spreads across his lips. “I’m glad you’re here.” His arms circle my waist as he pulls me against him. I part my lips in anticipation and when his mouth finds mine, the kiss is warm and tender.
My heart does a little somersault.
He’s not breaking up! In fact, this feels like we’ve just moved a step in the right direction, which is ? —
I force all that stupid hope to the back of my mind before I start building castles in the air. As long as we haven’t defined anything, I’m not going to let myself daydream of a future with this man.
“You’re heading out to sea?” I ask as the meaning of what he’s about to do dawns on me.
“Yes.”
I may not know anything about ships and deep waters, but it sounds dangerous.
“I’m coming with you,” I find myself saying before I can change my mind.
“No, Lori.” He releases me and shakes his head. “That’s out of the question. The weather’s too unpredictable and we’re talking about the open sea. It’s too dangerous.” His tone leaves no room for discussion.
“I don’t care. I’m not letting you go alone.” I set my jaw stubbornly, ready to stare him into surrender if need be.
“Have you ever witnessed a storm on the open sea?” Patrick asks.
“Let me think.” I tap my fingers against my lips as I flick through all the movies I’ve watched in my life. The closest I’ve ever gotten to anything like this is when Dwayne Johnson tried to save the world on Netflix, though I can’t recall whether it was a hurricane or maybe something like an earthquake. It might not have been a boat but a helicopter. Maybe it was a plane after all?
“There’s my answer,” Patrick says. “Have you ever even been on a boat, Lori?”
I hesitate. Does a sightseeing cruise around the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island count? It was quite chilly that day and the sky was a bit overcast so, the way I see it, I do have some experience.
He groans. “Absolutely not.” Clearly, the guy doesn’t know when to give up.
I cross my arms over my chest, prepared to stand my ground. I might not be a fan of storms and my stomach is already turning at the thought of being tossed around in a boat with the rain whipping against my skin, but it can’t be as bad as the movies make it out to be. They add special effects for a reason.
“Like it or not, I’m coming with you, Patrick.”
“Fine.” He sighs. “But only because I have no time to waste arguing with you. And from what I’ve seen of you so far, you don’t strike me as the kind that backs down.”
Never!
In fact, the Merriam-Webster dictionary should have my name added to the definition of the word “mule”.
Lori “the mule” Crest.
However, that’s something the hot guy doesn’t need to know. At least not before he’s fallen deeply and madly in love with me, and is no longer running for the hills at the slightest tinkle of an alarm bell.
“I have my moments.” I shoot him a grin and head for the door, calling over my shoulder, “Let me get a sweater. And don’t you dare head out without me because I’ll come after you.”
“Why wouldn’t that surprise me?” Patrick mumbles. “Can you put on a pair of waterproof boots? You’ll need them.”