Chapter 51
No Cannons Were Stolen…Yet
Ryder
Tessa was laughing. "That's your idea? A cannon?"
Right on cue, the thing exploded.
The boom ripped through the air with enough force to make half the tourists around us jump. A kid squealed, and a nearby dad dropped his cellphone. Tessa clutched my arm, startled, and then burst into fresh laughter.
"Holy crap," she said, her eyes wide. "You totally timed that."
I hadn't. But if I'd thought of it, I would've, because the look on Tessa's face was priceless.
If I weren't so jaded, I might have stared.
That combination – the breeze in her hair, the sunlight on her face, and the sparkle in her blue eyes – if there was a picture next to the word bewitching, it would be all her.
But it was the sound of her laugh – alive and untamed – that hit me harder than a cannonball. I wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her like crazy until the whole fort disappeared around us.
But I didn't, because Fort Mackinac was a family attraction. And even if this inconvenient fact wouldn't stop a guy like me, I knew Tessa well enough to realize she wouldn't love the idea of making a spectacle for the kiddies.
With a satisfied grin, I said, "No, but if you want a repeat, I'll make it happen."
She glanced at the nearby sign. "But you can't. They're not gonna fire it again for two full hours."
I studied the sign in question. We'd just witnessed the 10:30 cannon firing, and the next was set for 12:30. But so what?
I told Tessa, "You'd be surprised what I can make happen."
She studied my face for half a beat before letting out another laugh. "Well, I think those armed soldiers would have something to say about that."
The so-called soldiers were decked out in historic blue uniforms with shiny brass buttons and tall rounded helmets with brass eagle emblems that glittered in the morning sun.
Their only weapons were smiles for the kids.
I lowered my voice to confide, "I think I can take 'em."
Tessa laughed. "Yeah, and I think we'd get kicked out." She pointed to something past my shoulder. "And we haven't even seen the barracks yet."
I glanced around, taking in the sights as I considered what I knew of the place. Fort Mackinac sat atop the bluff, all whitewashed walls and weathered cannons, watching over the island like it had something to protect.
According to the guide at the entrance, the fort had seen battles and treaties while standing through centuries of storms.
But today with Tessa, it was obnoxiously charming. Field trips weren't usually my thing. But with her standing beside me, smiling in the morning sun, it felt less like a tourist trap and more like a secret worth sharing.
Plus, there was the cannon, which I'd told her from the start would be an excellent way to solve the problem of Evan Carver. I'd said it as a joke, but now that I'd seen its true potential, the idea wasn't sounding half-bad.
As if reading my mind, Tessa leaned toward me to say, "You do know we can't actually take the cannon to Chicago, right?"
I grinned. "So we'll bring Evan here." And even though I was grinning, I was liking the idea more than was decent. Then again, I wasn't a decent kind of guy, not when protecting something I cared about.
And when it came to Tessa?
Yeah, I cared.
I couldn't even say why. I'd known her for barely a week, and we'd kissed exactly three times. But right from the start, there'd been something about her that had slipped under my skin before I'd had the chance to stop it.
And now?
Call me crazy, but I didn't want to stop anything.
I hadn't planned to spend the morning touring a fort that was over two centuries old. But with the coffee shop closed until noon, the idea of showing Tessa a good time – and within walking distance of the shop – had been impossible to resist.
Now, with the cannon spent, I reached for her hand as we left the overlook and headed toward the group of buildings that had housed, fed, and healed soldiers back in the day.
Her hand was soft in mine as we explored everything from the cramped barracks to the luxurious mansion – at least by the standards of those days – that had served as quarters for the officers.
Inside those quarters, we strolled from room to room, taking in everything from the antique furniture to dress uniforms and porcelain chamber pots.
At the sight of one pot in an upstairs bedroom, Tessa said with a laugh, "You know what?"
I gave her hand a tender squeeze. "What?"
"I think we take a lot for granted."
I was dying to say, No shit. But we weren't alone, so in a heroic burst of self-control, I gave her the modified version instead. "No kidding."
With a quick glance at a family of four standing a few feet away, Tessa stood on her tiptoes to whisper in my ear, "What I wanted to say was, 'Holy shit, people used to pee in bowls.'"
I laughed way too loud compared to the whisper. But so what? It was funny as hell that we were on the same wavelength even when it came to this.
For someone who looked so sweet, there was a wicked twist under her civilized surface that called to my inner delinquent. With a grin, I told her, "And those were the lucky ones. They got to go inside."
As the family of four moved out into the hall, she stifled a laugh. "Don't you dare mention the outhouse."
So far, we hadn't seen an outhouse, and none had been mentioned by any of the guides. So of course I had to say, "The only one who mentioned it was you." I gave her a smug look. "So technically you started it."
"I didn't start anything," she protested. "It was your idea to come here." She said it with a smile that told me in spite of her words, she was having the time of her life.
That made two of us. For something so simple, I couldn't remember the last time I'd had this much fun. "Yeah, but coming here wasn't my fault."
She asked, "How do you figure?"
"I was driven here."
She gave me a perplexed look. "You mean…in a car?"
"No. By Barista Drama."
This made her sputter. "Hey—"
I cut her off. "Sorry. No further questions."
She made a noise of outrage that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
But then, her laughter faded as she said, "You know…
I should probably get back to the coffee shop.
" With her free hand, she reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and studied the screen.
She looked up with a wince. "It's almost 11:30. "
Screw the time. I wasn't ready to let her go. "So play hooky."
"I can't," she said. "I've already called in late."
"So quit."
She glanced toward the nearest window. "At this rate, I won't have to quit, I'll be fired."
"So be fired," I said. "The job can't be that terrific."
This made her frown. "Yeah, and what would that say about me? Getting fired from two jobs in a row?"
"Nothing. Because you weren't fired from your last one. You quit, remember?"
She scoffed. "Yeah, that's what I say, but Thatcher-Hale would say differently."
She'd said as much last night, but I still didn't get why she was sticking with the barista thing. Not only was she vastly overqualified, the place was a mismanaged disaster. "If it's about money," I said, "I've got plenty." I smiled with sudden inspiration. "And I'm hiring."
She gave me a dubious look. "For what position?"
I shrugged. "I dunno. Paid tour guide?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. I can't guide anyone. I barely know the island."
That was fine by me. We could explore it together. "So?"
"So I'd make an even worse guide than a barista, and that's saying something."
"Oh come on. You seem like an okay barista to me."
She didn't look flattered. "Yeah, well…maybe I don't want to be just okay."
"Fine. Then you're an excellent barista."
This only made her laugh, except it wasn't the happy sound from earlier. "Trust me, even 'okay' is a gross exaggeration." She lifted the hand I wasn't holding to show me her thumb. "Look."
It took me only a moment to spot it – a red welt about the size of a dime. I frowned. "Where'd you get that?"
"On the steam wand," she said. "The thing hates me. And you wanna know why?"
"Why?"
Her shoulders sagged. "Because I'm the worst barista, ever."
The sight of the burn, small as it was, made something tighten in my chest. "That's bullshit."
She shot me a warning look before whispering, "Let's keep it PG, okay?"
I knew what she meant, but the family had already moved on, leaving us alone in the quiet space. So unless someone was hiding under the bed, I figured we were safe to say whatever we wanted.
More to the point, my bullshit wasn't in response to her claim about being the worst barista, but rather the burn that was glaringly obvious in spite of the pretty pink nail polish less than an inch away.
And yet, I hadn't noticed – not the burn or the polish, not until she'd made me look.
Now, I was ticked – not at Tessa, but at myself. Still, for Tessa's sake, I lowered my voice. "Yeah, well it is bullshit. That place sucks. You should quit."
It took me only a second to realize I'd said something not only blunt, but apparently rude. I didn't see it that way. But from the look on Tessa's face, she sure as hell did.
And here was the real kicker.
What I'd just said – I didn't regret it.