Chapter Fifteen
It’s the last week of school! The library and town hall both have a list of fun—and free—things to do this summer. And if you need a little help with lunches, message me to be put on the brown bag list. Your community is here for you!
—Wayward Harbor Online Community Group
By the time they got home from the party, Lucy’s stomach hurt from laughing, her throat was already sore from so much talking, and the sugar was coursing through her body like an energy drink.
But she didn’t care. “That was the best birthday party I’ve ever had.”
Nick set the Scuttlebutt bag with her presents in it on the table and put the box of leftover cake in the fridge. “I’m glad you had a good time.”
“You had a good time, too.”
He nodded reluctantly, but then chuckled. “Yes, I did.”
“I bet Lavinia enjoyed it, too.”
He laughed. “Is that the same ghost you claim was blowing out your birthday candles or a different one?”
“Your skepticism is really showing. But anyway, that was definitely Lavinia. Jacob never goes upstairs, according to Willow, but Lavinia was definitely judging my birthday wish.”
“What did you wish for?”
Lucy froze, her mind blank except for desperately wishing she could take her words back. All she needed to come up with was something that a woman who died in 1932 would judge, and that had to be a big list. “If I tell you, it won’t come true.”
“You’re blushing, so now you’re going to have to tell me.” His grin was wicked, and a shiver went through her body. “What did you ask for that a ghost would find sinful, Lucy?”
“I didn’t say it was sinful,” she shot back, pointing at him. “I just said Lavinia was judging me. Maybe I was wishing for a gluten-free whoopie pie with dairy-free filling. That’s going to make a ghost baker from almost a century ago roll over in her grave.”
“There’s zero chance you were wishing for a whoopie pie with no gluten or dairy.”
She had to admit that wasn’t one of her better attempts at stretching the truth. “It was just an example of the kind of wish Lavinia might judge me for.”
Was it her imagination or was Nick closer? The man was slowly advancing toward her, and that had to be why it was so hard to breathe all of a sudden.
“Okay,” she said. “Do you remember when we kissed after I sat on the sidewalk with Dolly and we agreed it was a bad idea?”
“I remember it very well.”
“And do you remember when we kissed the night you gave me my sparkly tree and we agreed it was a really bad idea?”
“Vividly.” His cheeks and neck looked a little rosy, too, so at least she wasn’t the only one suffering.
“And do you remember when we kissed yesterday and we didn’t talk about it being a bad idea, but we both knew it was.” He nodded. “Lavinia might have been trying to keep me from wishing for something that’s a very, very bad idea. Possibly the worst idea ever.”
Nick was close enough now to rest his hand on her waist, but he didn’t pull her closer. Instead, he waited until she took the final step to close the distance between them. With her body pressed to his, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“It’s your birthday,” he said, his voice low and rough. “It’s a great day for worst ever ideas.”
It was her birthday, and she wanted to unwrap this man like a gift—slowly, and treasuring every moment.
He smiled, as though reading her thoughts in her eyes. “And since you haven’t actually told me what you wished for—specifically—it can still come true.”
Lucy cupped her hand behind his neck and pulled his lips to hers. The kiss was gentle at first, but Nick’s mouth grew more demanding, and she moaned into it.
Then he stopped, putting his finger under her chin so he could see her face. “I have a wish for your birthday.”
“Oh, I bet you do.”
“Take that thing out of your hair.”
It wasn’t easy, but Lucy finally tugged the oversize scrunchie out of her hair so it was free. Running her fingers through it to look for knots, she shook it to loosen up the curls.
Then Nick was kissing her again, hard and hungry, and a groan came out of him when he buried his hands in her hair.
“Your room or mine,” he whispered against her mouth.
“Definitely mine.” Nick might be sleeping in that bed, but it wasn’t his.
She gasped when he lifted her off her feet. There was a moment when he had to brace himself and she thought they were both going to fall. Laughing, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Then he steadied himself and carried her to her bed, kicking the door closed behind him and plunging the room into darkness. She reached out and hit the switch on her metal tree. A warm glow filled the room, and she saw him tugging at the hem of his shirt.
“No,” she told him, pushing up to her knees on the mattress so she could reach him. “I want to do that.”
And in the twinkling light of her little tree, Lucy unwrapped her gift. Her hands on his naked body might have been the worst idea ever, but it was a birthday she’d never forget.
* * *
Nick was glad this morning was limited to the final walk-through with the homeowner and getting a check because there was no way he could be trusted with power tools today.
His body was tired, though for an admittedly good reason.
After making love, he and Lucy had gotten out of bed and eaten more of the delicious cake.
Then they made love again before lying awake in the dark, talking about how chocolate and sugar at well past bedtime wasn’t a great idea.
But they both confessed to having no regrets.
It was Nick’s mind spinning that was causing him problems. Spending the night in Lucy’s bed had been the best thing that ever happened to him. Allowing himself to do it was one of the worst ideas he’d ever had.
He already wanted to do it again, and resisting the urge wasn’t going to be easy.
Lucy had still been asleep when he’d left for work. After sliding as silently as possible out of her bed, he’d gone to his own room to get ready. Deciding whether or not to leave her a note had eaten up five minutes of his prework morning routine.
On the one hand, being gone when she woke up didn’t feel right. On the other, what would he say? It didn’t make sense to tell her he’d call her later. He’d be coming home later. She knew she’d see him. And a quick thank-you note felt really wrong.
In the end, realizing he was going to be late to the jobsite had made the decision for him, and he’d tried not to overthink it while following the very picky homeowner around the finished house.
Finally, large check in hand, Nick was able to get in his truck and leave that job behind him. They’d be starting a new one tomorrow, but for now—thanks to Gray’s meticulous attention to detail keeping the homeowner from coming up with a punch list of his own—they all got the rest of the day off.
Since Lucy was only working weekends at the Keel now, her car was in the driveway when he pulled in. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he went inside, and he was dreading the possibility she was upset he’d left without saying goodbye or at least leaving a note.
Lucy was sitting sideways on the couch, with only one light blanket over her legs. When he walked through the door, she looked up and smiled. Then, putting her pen between the pages to hold her place, she closed the notebook she’d been writing in and set it on the table.
“How did it go?” she asked, sounding totally like herself and not at all upset.
“Good. We got paid and now it’s on to the next job.
” He stepped out of his boots and walked to the fridge.
Going straight to the food seemed a better play than hovering in the doorway, unsure of whether she’d expect him to go over and kiss her hello or not.
“I’m starving and we have the rest of the day off, so I came home for lunch. ”
“You probably won’t be surprised to hear that I ate the rest of the cake for breakfast.”
He chuckled, opening the deli meat drawer. “I was pretty sure you would, so I didn’t get my heart set on it. You want a sandwich?”
“It was a big slice of cake.”
Nick shook his head and then grabbed a beefsteak tomato out of the crisper drawer.
His parents used to argue about whether or not tomatoes were meant to be kept in the fridge, but he kept them there because that was where he always found them when he was a kid.
He still didn’t know if his mom was right, but she’d clearly won all of the arguments.
After he’d made himself a couple of bologna and tomato sandwiches—with extra mayo, of course—he pulled out a chair and sat at the table. Lucy joined him, sitting in her usual seat, and sifted idly through the mail he’d grabbed on his way in.
Because he was trying not to stare at her while his brain tried to navigate how to handle last night, Nick looked around the kitchen at anything but her. And then he spotted the list on the fridge.
“You should have a bite of this,” he said, holding up half of one of the sandwiches.
She looked up from a sales flyer and wrinkled her nose. “No thanks.”
“It’s on our shenanigans list,” he reminded her. “One bite, so we can cross it off.”
“Oh,” she said, pointing at him. “So now it’s we and our, but I never agreed to it going on the list in the first place.”
“One bite.”
“Fine.” She got up and walked around to his side of the table, plopping down in the chair next to him.
When he extended the sandwich, he thought Lucy would take it from him. Instead, she leaned closer and took a decent-sized bite while he held it. Initially, her nose wrinkled again, but after chewing it thoroughly and swallowing, she didn’t look disgusted by it at all.
“It’s good, isn’t it?”
She sighed. “Yes, okay? It’s actually very good.”
And then she took an unbitten half off his plate and went back to her own seat. He laughed and slid one of the extra napkins he’d grabbed down the table to her. The extra mayo and the juices from the tomatoes got really messy, which was part of why they were so tasty.
“You know what’s even better?” he asked while she jumped up to cross the item out on the list before going back to the stolen sandwich. “If you put potato chips on top of the tomatoes. Good salty ones.”
She laughed. “You’re just messing with me now.”
“Nope. It’s delicious. Then the sandwich is juicy and crunchy and salty and… Trust me.”
“I forbid you to add any more food-related items to the list,” she said sternly. “Take the win.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence while they ate. She flipped through the sales flyers and he watched her, trying to come up with some way to broach the subject of where they stood now when it came to bad ideas.
“So we should talk about last night,” she said when he’d finished eating and was about to stand up.
“Okay.” He wiped his hands the best he could on the napkins, not wanting to look like he was disinterested by going to the sink to wash his hands.
“Lavinia probably had the right idea,” she said, and he sighed. “Don’t make your grumpy face at me.”
“You started off the serious conversation we need to have with a ghost.”
“Real or not, I like Lavinia. Or I like the idea of Lavinia. Either way, you’re the one who’s making this a ‘serious conversation’ with your grumpy face. I just wanted to talk.”
“Okay. So you agree with the woman who died almost a hundred years ago that you shouldn’t have made that wish?”
“I think all three of us agree it was a bad idea.”
The obvious effort Lucy was putting into not smiling confirmed she was deliberately pushing his buttons, so he let that slide. “I’m not sorry last night happened. But it’s complicated. You’re leaving soon. Before that, Helen will be coming home and you and I will go our separate ways.”
“Exactly,” she said, telling him nothing about where she stood.
“So…?”
She hesitated, clearly disappointed he hadn’t exactly voiced where he stood going forward, either. “So all of that makes anything more happening between us a super bad idea.”
Disappointment flooded through him, even though she was right. “Yes, it does.”
“But since we know that, we know ahead of time it’s just a summer fling—or a half-a-summer fling—and then we’ll part ways again with no harm done, so then keeping on doing what we’ve been doing isn’t such a bad idea, right?”
“Oh.” He definitely wanted to keep on doing what they’d done last night. “Right.”
“But we should keep it to ourselves, behind closed doors,” she added. “So the people in our lives don’t get the wrong idea.”
He’d managed to hide how he felt about her for this long. He could keep doing it in public if it meant he got to put his hands on her privately. “Agreed.”
“Good.” She smiled brightly and then slid one of the flyers across the table to him. “Tomatoes are on sale. We should go buy more.”