Chapter 26
Jett couldn’t believe it.
Diver Downeast’s grand opening day had finally arrived.
The last few weeks had passed so quickly.
But that was to be expected since she’d been…very busy.
Jett had been back and forth to Portsmouth several times, packing up her lifetime of stuff and memories, getting them squared away into a storage unit until she knew where she was ending up. She’d also sold a lot of the larger things that neither she nor her father wanted.
Trask had continued to be hot in her bed, despite the fact that they were still encamped at his parents’ house.
He had more than sustained the prowess he’d advertised by the sneak peek she’d gotten the first time she’d been in his bed.
He was an all-out, confident, sexy-as-hell alpha between the sheet.
And everywhere else. In the shower…up against the wall…
Le-sigh, Jett quoted Pepe Le Pew.
She liked it. She liked it all, and she liked it a lot.
Always having had trouble—because she was devilishly scattered—deciding exactly what moves to make in bed, with Trask, she had no such difficulty.
The man ordered. Jett complied. End of story.
And if she didn’t behave herself—which she sometime chose not to do—she found her eager posterior blushing red-hot under his palm.
Which was a-fucking-okay with her.
She’d always fantasized about “love-punishment”, but had never before experienced it.
Which was probably for the best, because with Trask, she’d found a man who really knew how to deliver.
He was perfectly growly and over-the-top, but he never hurt her; he just made the sting he delivered, oh-so-delicious.
Things with Downeast had been moving right along, as well. She’d helped with the “museum” that Trask had his heart set on, and the space was looking really good. It was complete enough so that today, people could actually step in and have a gander.
With all the bustle to get things up and running, the Diver Downeast crew might have finished putting all the remaining displays together, faster, but after that first big storm and subsequent clean-up, another huge nor’easter had blown through, so they’d been snowed in for a few days.
No hardship there.
Hunkering-down had never been more fun.
Actual business, though, had already and surprisingly been trickling in to the newly established company, even though they wouldn’t officially open their doors until today.
It had forced them to keep on their toes.
During one lull in the bad weather, the team of which she was now a part, had been summoned to a spot just southeast of town for a delicate job. A private jet had gone into the lake one evening; an unexpected turn of events, to be sure.
Luckily, the pilot had been the only one on board, and had managed to send out a mayday call before gliding it in, climbing out and scrambling to the top of the doomed craft where he was plucked off by locals with ice-boats minutes before the sleek jet sunk to the bottom.
Fortuitous.
Diver Downeast, following a call from the local police, had been tasked with going down for the black box.
Piece of cake.
The team had actually, playfully, argued over who would get the honors for the retrieval, but in the end, it was Spencer and Trask who had gone down.
Still, that didn’t mean the rest of them failed to get their toes wet, so to speak.
After the local fire department hacked a hole in the semi-thick ice—the area hadn’t actually had enough of a deep freeze yet for it to become very dense—the entire team had suited up and gleefully kept the opening in the surface clear of refreezing while the two men were down.
The whole operation took no more than an hour, but they’d all been pumped.
Equally so when they’d been called just a few days later to do a rescue in nearby Bangor because the Sothard’s brother, Kyle, had mentioned their name.
That one had been a lot more…intense.
An overflow tank for the city’s sewage system had just been completed.
It would handle storm water and reduce the discharge into the Penobscot River.
All was going well with the preliminary trials when one of their construction workers became trapped under a collapsed scaffolding as the tank was being pressure-tested.
With the cistern rapidly filling with water, the poor man had barely been able to keep his head above the influx, but Diver Downeast had gotten him out in record time, earning their paycheck and reaping their fledgling company even more praise.
The word was out, now. Before their doors were officially opened—which they would be in just under an hour.
Things were looking great. They’d already been contracted for numerous jobs for the spring, including a safety check on several local piers, the raising of a boat off the coast that had gone down in the fall, and three huge underwater construction jobs up north that needed certification via video and still footage, which Diver Downeast would provide.
They were all pumped for that, but right now, nervous for this day as they excitedly walked around the shop, prepping for what they hoped would be a good number of locals checking the place out.
Bobbie, Buck’s wife, had catered the whole thing, so when they’d advertised that their doors were opening, they’d made mention of her food because it was known to be a huge draw in the area.
They’d also—thanks to Sheila—flooded social media with what they were offering for lessons, including discounted instruction for those brave enough to take the classes in winter, which would include one dive into the ocean.
They had their fingers crossed that the challenge would get a few of the area’s more adventurous souls nibbling at their hook.
“Do you think people will actually come in?” Tabitha asked for the umpteenth time.
None of them had dared peek around the paper that had, for the last few weeks, covered the front windows and kept the public eye from seeing their final accomplishments.
The glass in the front door had also been blacked out with a curtain, and it would be the first thing removed when the ticking clock struck nine.
Spence was very patient with his wife. “Don’t worry, sweetie. That’s why we scheduled this for a Saturday. So that people would be out and about, looking for someplace to be.”
“And we got lucky with the weather,” Buck added.
“Forty and sunny in Maine in early March. That’s what the weather service is predicting for today, and as we well know, clear skies aren’t always a guarantee.
But hey,” he told them with his impromptu pep talk.
“Even if we don’t get any foot traffic, remember, we’ve still got plenty going on. ”
“That’s right,” Trask agreed succinctly. He didn’t look worried at all.
Jett wanted nothing more than to go wrap herself around Trask and hug out her nerves, but she and Trask had been keeping their relationship—if you could call it that—under wraps.
Jett wasn’t liking that very much, but Trask had convinced her it would be for the best to play things cool with his family until they decided exactly “what they were”.
His words, not hers.
As far as Jett was concerned, she knew what they were. A couple of people who were crazy for each other, had incredible chemistry, and were on the same page with life, religion, and politics.
What they hadn’t talked about, was if their association had what it took to make it in the long run.
They hadn’t discussed their personal visions for the future; marriage or kids.
Hell, they hadn’t even discussed getting out of the Sothard’s farmhouse any time soon, even though Trask had mentioned that it was a priority for him when they’d first met.
It clearly wasn’t tops on his to-do list now, and Jett was sure he was currently dragging his feet because he wasn’t certain he wanted her imagining she could be his roommate.
Which sucked. For her, and for the bill she was amassing to keep her belongings in limbo. Though the outflow of money was far down on the totem pole of her disappointment.
Dammit, she loved being in Trask’s bed every night, and she’d like nothing better than to play house with the man in every other way, as well.
But he wasn’t talking about it.
At all.
As a matter of fact, they barely talked about anything personal.
Which gave Jett pause, because…why was he holding parts of himself back?
It sure seemed like Trask was into her as much as she was into him, so what the hell was in his head? Was he…faking it?
If so, he sure was putting on a good show to get easy sex. It would suck if he had no plans at all to move them forward into something more…permanent.
That thought had made her antsy for too long, which was why Jett had set a timetable to bring her concerns to the forefront.
She’d convinced herself to wait until right after the grand opening to broach things with Trask, because she couldn’t stand to let things simmer any longer.
As fun as it was being Trask’s secret-squeeze, Jett wanted more.
If he couldn’t agree—at least in some fashion that there was something permanent to work toward—she’d have to eventually pack up and leave because… her heart was already getting involved.
Crap!. Who was she kidding? Her heart had been involved almost from the start, and…she loved him. It was Trask who hadn’t mentioned a word of how he felt.
Unless they were talking about sex.
He was extremely vocal about that.
Apparently, she was pretty damned good in bed.
But the big question remained. Was she good enough for anything…more?
She’d find out soon enough, because she couldn’t let the question drag on any longer.
“Is everyone ready?” Tabitha asked excitedly as the time neared, snapping Jett out of her head. Tabbi stood by the door, her hand ready to yank down the curtain, turn the sign to open, and click over the lock.
“Yup. Go for it,” Buck urged.
And…
Rip.
People!
Not a big crowd, for sure, but there were at least half a dozen interested parties waiting on the sidewalk for them to open.
Trask and Buck took care of the paper over the large, plate-glass windows, tearing it down in hopes that more passers-by would be curious and come have a look.
But for the few who stood outside now…
“Hello, hello,” Tabitha’s cheerful voice greeted the six who eagerly, without urging, walked in. “Welcome to Diver Downeast,” she told them. “Please, feel free to take a look around and have some food. We’re all here to answer any questions you might have.”
The entire rest of the day went by in a blur.
There was never a moment when there weren’t at least three or four people checking things out and asking what their new business offered. At times, the place had even been so packed that walking around meant knocking into elbows and saying a lot of “excuse-mes”.
Jett, along with Tabitha, had talked so much, she feared she’d go hoarse, and her face was almost numb from smiling.
But what a thrill.
By the end of the day, they had fifteen people signed up for diving lessons, ten of those for the discounted winter training they’d offered.
Another score was that two local business owners were interested in having them make a long overdue dive on a small container of goods that had gone overboard off a ship down in Searsport just before Christmas which had never been retrieved.
The vendors had been paid the insurance money for the inventory they’d lost, but they were now interested in seeing if any of it remained salvageable.
Sheila had booked that job for Monday.
By the time they closed up, they’d met probably half of the towns’ population with whom they’d been welcomed with open arms, and all the food they’d laid in had been picked clean.
A huge success, by anyone’s standards.
And now…
Crap.
Jett had to get up the nerve to talk to Trask about where, if at all, their association was headed.
She’d just decided to retrieve her coat and urge him to take her home, when—
“Who wants to celebrate our killer of a day with dinner and drinks?” Buck suggested gleefully. “I just called Bobbie, and she’s up for joining us. Of course, no cocktails for her,” he grinned.
The couple had told everyone, just a few weeks earlier, that Bobbie was expecting, and had made it through her first trimester with flying colors.
“I’m in,” Trask replied. “You?” he looked at Jett.
“Sure.”
Saved.
Jett welcomed the reprieve. A couple more hours of nonconfrontation sounded damned good to her.
Tabitha and Spence looked at each other and shrugged.
What was…?
“We, uh, actually have some news.” Spence suddenly looked like a puffer-fish; his chest expanding almost comically.
Tabitha elbowed him as she took over.
“We’re pregnant,” she grinned.
Everyone cheered and hugged, backslapping the happy couple, until…
“Sheila,” she turned to her sister who hadn’t moved from her desk. “Did you hear? You’re going to be an aunt.”
Sheila looked up from her computer and blinked.
“I heard. You’re pregnant. It’s about time,” she deadpanned.
Everyone cracked up.