Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Be worthy of love and love will come.” ~Louisa May Alcott , Little Women
T he gravel in the parking lot for Tucker’s Boat Launch crunched beneath Nat’s white Converse sneakers. She strode toward the low, gray-roofed building tucked up against the Silver Lake shoreline. As she strolled down the sloped sidewalk toward the U-shaped dock, she tugged at her caramel-colored shorts, regretting their length. The air was warm but would be cool enough on the lake to need the pale pink Boston College hoodie she wore.
Apprehension snaked through her veins. The invitation from Duncan was more direct than he’d ever been. Well, besides his promise…or threat…of an earth-shattering kiss. Gone was the seventeen-year-old whose eyes remained cast down when he’d asked her to the Homecoming dance. Was she unnerved because of the starkness between that shy teenage boy and the directness of the confident man? Or was it the idea of Noah that slowed her steps? No clear answer occurred by the time she reached the junction where the sidewalk ended, and the dock began.
At the end of the floating metal dock, Duncan leaned against a pylon, an enormous smile sketched on his face. His hands were balled into the pockets of faded dark blue jeans, that hung low on his hips. A gray NYU T-shirt stretched over his sculpted chest and shoulders. Loose wavy blond strands that reminded her of the boy he’d been replaced the sleek, styled hair from the other night. With each step closer to this version of him, her tight muscles eased.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he drawled.
“Well, I was summoned,” she teased, dropping into a princess-worthy curtsy.
Duncan winced. “Ouch. I thought that my note was going to read smooth, not Joffrey Lannister-like.”
“I’ve never had someone ask me out with a card for the same night.”
“I do enjoy being your first.” He winked with playful wickedness.
Duncan assisted her into a small white speed boat trimmed in blue and settled her on the white bench at the back of the boat. Then, he sat in a small blue captain’s chair, turned over the engine, and launched them into the serene lake waters.
“Is this your boat or did you rent it?” she asked, raising her voice over the loud engine, whipping wind, and lapping water.
“It’s my dad’s. He got it when he retired last year.”
“Who’s running the farm?”
“My older brother Jacob. He and his wife live in my parents’ house. Mom and Dad have a cottage on the other side of the lake. They stay there in the summer and are in Florida with my uncle during the winter,” he explained, slowing the boat. “This will be perfect.”
“For what?” Her head twisted, surveying their surroundings.
The boat bobbed in the middle of the mostly empty lake. Streaks of pumpkin, crimson, and amethyst splashed across the sky in a brilliant sunset.
Duncan dropped the anchor. Reaching under the steering wheel, he pulled out a small blue cooler. “For this,” he said.
Placing the cooler in front of her, he lifted the lid and plucked out a chilled bottle of champagne, plastic wrapped cheeseboard, and two glasses.
“I thought we’d have a picnic at sunset.”
“This is pretty romantic.” She bit her lip.
A self-assured grin lit his features. “Exactly what I was going for.”
After arranging their little picnic on the top of the closed cooler, he popped the cork on the bubbly and poured two glasses. “Here’s to second chances.”
After a moment of hesitation, she lifted her glass to tap the rim against his. “Second chances,” she murmured. “How do your parents like retirement?”
“They love it. Between here and Florida, Dad fishes year-round and Mom loves not dealing with snow.” He grabbed a slice of salami from the cheeseboard. “How about your parents? With you being back, they must be thinking of retiring. They’ve run the clinic for forty years.”
Nat frowned, grabbing a piece of gouda and a cracker. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like they’re in any hurry to retire.”
“How is it working with them?”
“Fine.” The firm line that all too often rested on her face these days settled into its usual spot.
“Natalie, I don’t need to use my lawyer intuition to tell that you’ve just perjured yourself.”
“Don’t use your attorney voodoo on me,” she warned, pointing her cheese and cracker at him.
His eyes narrowed. “I’m serious, Natalie.” Clearing his throat, his tone softened. “How is it?”
She blew out a long breath. “In Boston, the attending physician accepted me as a colleague. Here…it’s hard.”
Since she was a little girl, she’d wanted to work with her dad, to be her dad. To be Dr. Owens, not just Dr. Owens’ daughter. The unspoken truth twisted in her abdomen.
Duncan’s lips pursed. “Sometimes, Natalie, we make it hard on ourselves and blame others.”
“What does that mean?”
“You have to demand respect, not ask politely or remain quiet and hope people figure it out.” He gestured to himself. “Look at me. When I clerked at the DA’s office in New York City, I was the kid. When I graduated, passed the bar, and went to work at that same DA’s office, they still called me ‘kid.’ They’d undermine me with comments. I had a mentor who told me what you permit, you promote. I realized I’d given them permission to treat me like a kid. So, I stopped acting like a kid. Spoke up. Dressed more professionally with tailored suits instead of mismatched sports jackets and slacks.”
Nat studied the plastic cup.
“As much as I loved that dress you wore the other night or these”—he pointed to her shorts—“it screams co-ed fashion rather than young professional.”
Gaze turned away, she focused on the rows of cottages that poked out from thickets of trees along the lakeshore rather than the swirl of emotions that pricked inside. Was Duncan right? Had she shaped how people saw her by playing the part of the daughter instead of the doctor? The image of her in a lab coat and bright-colored ballet flats flashed in her vision. She'd always thought the colorful shoes made kid patients more comfortable with her as a doctor. She’d appear more approachable and fun. Not to mention, she just liked cute, comfortable shoes. But now she feared she was seen as a little girl playing doctor instead of an actual doctor.
“Natalie, you’re very special, but people will miss it if you don’t show them you’re someone to be respected,” Duncan said, placing his hand on her thigh and pulling her attention back to him.
“You’ve given me some things to consider.”
He placed his large palm over hers. “I mean it. You’re special. You’ve always been.”
They sat, quiet, allowing time to drift. Darkness blanketed the sky. The gentle current of the lake swayed the boat back and forth.
Her thoughts bobbed with their boat. Was she the key to changing the village’s and her parents’ perceptions? If she wanted to be taken seriously, did she need to be more serious? Did she need to change who she was?
“I made you a promise,” Duncan murmured. The low timbre of his voice pierced her roaming thoughts.
Nat shifted on the bench, facing him. “You did.”
He took the cup from her hand and placed it on the cooler beside his. Licking his lips, he raised his hand to her face. The smooth pads of his fingers skated across her cheek to her lips. With aching slowness, he traced her mouth with the tips of his fingers.
Her body convulsed in confusion. Some muscles tightened in anticipation. Others jerked as if trying to get away. Closing her eyes, she tried to relax both. To just be in the moment. To be open to this second chance.
Duncan is real. Duncan is here.
“Open your eyes, Natalie,” he commanded.
Her gray eyes opened at the gruff nature of his voice. “I’m sorry. Is there something wrong?”
“I want you to experience this with all your senses. To see.” He leaned in. The heat of his breath was a prelude to what was coming. “To feel.” His full lips pressed, imprisoning her lips in a slow, demanding kiss. “To taste.” The wetness of his tongue licked the seam of her mouth, prying it open. Like a predator, his tongue stalked hers until it found its prey and devoured it.
Duncan’s hands strolled down her torso to her waist. His grip tightened on her middle.
A tornado roared through her. Every muscle grew stiff as if grinning and bearing the whole experience.
Duncan’s kiss slowed and then ceased. “I keep my promises.”
She bit her lower lip.
It was a promise half-kept.