Authors: Rachael Wade
“She has lotsa power?” Tia’s eyes grew wide as golf balls, her whole body rising and straightening in attentiveness.
Well, that was a no-brainer. “Oh, yeah. She’s the boss. Not everyone likes the boss, though. Sometimes people hurt her and it makes me real sad.”
Tia’s eyes went from widened with awe to sad little puppy dogs in a nanosecond. “I don’t want the queen to be sad!”
“Me neither,” I said carefully, thinking of how to go about finishing this whole charade. Talking a 6-year-old into my plan was hard enough as it was, but ensuring that she would have the attention span to actually follow through on said scheme was a whole other challenge. “So here’s the deal. We need to show Queen Whitney that people appreciate her for who she is, okay? We need to show her how special she is and help her see that not everyone will hurt her. Do you think you can help me do that?”
She hopped in her seat, her little body sliding down the edge of the sofa. She kicked her legs and watched them dangle off the side as she nodded. “
Mmkay
.”
“Okay, good. Here’s what we need to do.” I propped Liz on my lap and motioned for Tia to grab Imposter Liz. We began our lesson, and step by step, I laid out her job description. It was only part one of a broader plan I knew I had to carry out to repair things with Whitney, but it was a start.
12
CAUTION
Getting in touch with Whitney the next day was easier than I’d thought. I figured after the way things ended that night, my chances of another date were pretty slim. The word “date” even sounded hollow as it bounced around and echoed in my mind. Whitney and I were way past formalities, and not seeing her for almost two whole days felt jarring, like a whole half side of my heart had been yanked out and hidden under a rock somewhere. I missed everything about her: her bossiness, her feistiness, the elusive tenderness beneath that sometimes abrasive exterior of hers, and of course, her body.
Good God, did I miss her body.
I found her at her usual lunch spot on the dock, chomping away at whatever was packed in her paper bag. I’d been getting a hang of her schedule. Even though it changed from time to time, the places she tended to frequent were becoming more and more predictable. For such a free little bird, she was proving to be a creature of habit.
“Hey you,” I said, coming up behind her. “What’s for lunch?”
She smiled up at me, but it was empty. “Chicken salad.”
“Sounds good.”
“Want some?”
“Nah, thanks. I just ate lunch.”
She eyed me for a moment and swallowed the last of her sandwich. One look at her and I could see her entire countenance was lacking its usual fiery luster. I’d done that, and even though I knew it, that didn’t make dealing with the fact any easier. It would only serve to make my mission harder, but I wasn’t about to give up on this one.
“I wanted to know if you’d go out with me tonight.”
She rolled up the empty paper bag and brushed some rebellious strands of onyx hair from her face. They were windblown, batting at her eyes. I reached over and helped her sweep them away, not missing the way she stiffened as I leaned in. “I’m hanging with Emma tonight, sorry. Maybe another time?”
I sighed and turned my body to the side to face her head on, propping my knees up. “Is that a sincere
maybe another time
or a complete bullshit
maybe another time
? Whit, come on. Look at me.” Tapping her chin, I called her green eyes to me, lowering my chin to penetrate those emerald depths.
“I’m not bullshitting you, Carter. I say what I mean, you know that. I’m spending time with Emma tonight.”
“You do say what you mean. But I’ve learned that sometimes it takes you a while to come out with what you really want to say. You sit on it. Harbor it. Eventually you explode. You and I are a lot alike in that way, it seems.” I held her gaze.
She noticed.
“Try putting yourself in my shoes,” she said, her voice too meek. “You know how I…feel about you. I’m not sure where to go from here after I just blurted it out like that. I’m so…embarrassed.”
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I admire your honesty. It’s brave. Really fucking brave. Besides, it’s not your job to figure out where to go from here. It’s my job. The ball’s in my court, and there’s a lot I want to say to you—a lot I wanted to say before you took off that night, only I wasn’t prepared to speak up. I am now. Starting with asking you to Kate’s wedding.”
“What?” she piped up. “Um…”
“I know how it sounds after…our conversation. But I want you to be my date. The wedding’s in May. You have plenty of time to think about it. She wants to meet you, and I don’t want anyone else on my arm. I want you.”
“I don’t even know what to say to that.”
“Say yes. I’ll be inviting Jackson and Emma, too. Kate said you all could come. I want you guys there.”
“I don’t know.”
“Just think on it. Anyway, like I said, I have a lot to say. But I’m going to use actions. Not words. Words are too overrated.”
“Carter,” she laughed and threw her head back, exasperated, “what in the world are you blabbering about?”
“You’ll see, if you say yes. Go out with me.”
“I’m not going to blow Emma off. Can’t you take me out this weekend or something?”
“Fine. Do you work Saturday night?”
“No.”
“Okay, then. I’m picking you up at nine o’clock.”
“But—”
“Wear something casual. We’ll be on the beach.” I reached over and nuzzled her neck, but I didn’t kiss her, just let her feel the warmth of my lips. “See you then.” Hopping to my feet, I took off down the dock. The day was still young, and I had a lot to do before Saturday.
***
My hair had been cut, I’d had a fresh shave, and my fingers were warmed up for Liz by 7 p.m. on Saturday. I had just enough time to head down to the beach bar where Whitney had taken me once for open mic night. I’d squared everything away with the owner and had kissed Tony’s feet ten times over for allowing me to bring his 6-year-old kid to a bar so late on a Saturday night. I’d promised him five free lessons for Tia, and if that didn’t sway him, then my lovesick attempt to win Whitney over certainly did. He was a romantic at heart, especially after losing his wife, his soul mate, and I won him over with my lovesick plan. I’d even thought of calling on Jackson and Emma for help, but decided against it when I’d heard through the grapevine that they’d had another spat.
I couldn’t keep up with those two.
So, I made do with what I had. That didn’t consist of much, really. Just me, Liz, Imposter Liz, Tia, two stools, and a microphone. Oh, and my trusty top hat. Turned out it was a good thing Whitney had declined my initial invitation on the dock the other day, or I wouldn’t have had time to pull all of this off.
The bar owner had assured me we’d have a full house, and I’d paid him extra to ensure that Whitney would have a front row seat. She’d be pampered the whole night with as much as she could eat and drink, and after that, the night was hers. Whatever she wanted, her wish was my command.
I arrived at Whitney’s at nine as promised, and we decided to walk to the beach from her place. The stroll was quiet. I’d commented on everything I could think of—how gorgeous she looked, how she smelled like peaches, how happy I was to see her—but that glow I’d come to love about her was still nowhere to be found. Her responses were dull yet polite, her smiles sad.
I wanted to just come right out and say it, tell her how I wished I’d never let her take off that night. How I’d had it all wrong. That I wasn’t in love with Kate anymore. Not the way I thought I was. That I’d been grieving the loss of something different entirely, that I’d finally woken the hell up and pulled my head out of my ass. That Kate was my past and she was my future.
But I couldn’t say any of that.
Not when she was so withdrawn like this. My attempts to explain everything would only come off desperate, which they were. Right now, all she would hear is excuses. Lame words to try to lessen the blow to her ego. She’d feel pity, not authenticity. So, I kept my mouth clamped shut for the remainder of the walk, resigned to follow through with my plan to be a man of action, not verbal promises, no matter how genuine they really were.
“What’s this?” she asked, as I came to a stop in front of the familiar bar. The one she’d dragged me to when she wanted to dance to “Paint it Black.” The same place where she’d shoved me onto the little stage to push me into my element—the element I still needed more than I cared to admit, and one I probably would have neglected if it hadn’t been for her persistence.
“I know it’s not Pete’s Tavern. They don’t have your favorite shrimp. But they make some mean wings. Come on.” I took her hand and led her under the hotel overhang, into the bar. The bar’s Key West ambience was enhanced by an array of pale orange Chinese lanterns. It threw off the look a bit, but extra touches were necessary.
Action. I was a man of action.
I’d arranged the lanterns throughout the restaurant and lined the wooden planks of the main bar with small tea lights, each one lit and flickering with the soft Gulf breeze. The owner, as well as a bartender I’d come to know as Sharon, greeted us with smiles and waves but didn’t initiate any conversation, letting us drift in on our own and enjoy a few moments of privacy. A few people were already joined around the stage, testing mics and amps.
“You did all this?” she asked, spinning to take in the lanterns above her head and the scattered rose petals on each pub table. Surprise overtook her face, and for the first time since she’d left my flat that night, an excited glimmer flamed her eyes. “Carter, this is…”
“I have a front row seat for you. Here.” I tugged her fingers and gestured to a small pub table near the front of the stage. It was alone and set apart from all the other little tables, which were scattered around, leading all the way back to the main bar on the far wall.
Whitney let me lead her to the table, eyeing the men chatting and tinkering away on the stage. “Is there live music here tonight? Did you hire a band or something?”
“Something like that.” I grinned and pulled out her stool, lifting her by the waist to set her on top.
“Are you going to play?” Her eyes bulged with enthusiasm, and I sent a silent prayer to the big man upstairs. There was still interest there. She hadn’t completely checked out on me. Not yet.
“We’ll see,” I replied coolly, turning to check our surroundings. More people began to wander in from the beach, greeting the bartenders and taking seats. “But first, you’re getting the royal treatment.”
“What royal treatment?”
Nodding to Sharon over at the bar, I took a seat next to Whitney.
“What can I get for ya, sweets?” Sharon asked, moseying over to us and flipping open her pad, ready to take the order. “Whatever your little heart desires tonight, it’s courtesy of your gentleman here.”
Whitney’s cheeks flamed for a second, her eyes zipping from me to Sharon. Then her back straightened and she lifted her chin, narrowing her gaze on me. “Anything?”
“Anything on the
menu
,” I clarified, trying to place the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Sharon giggled, her long wavy hair rustling with the breeze. It rolled into the restaurant like a muggy blanket being swept onto the bed. “A date usually implies dinner.” She smiled at Whitney. “You can also pick an appetizer—”
“Plus dessert,” I chimed in, pointing a finger.
“
Plus dessert
, and as many drinks as you’d like. Until we find it necessary to cut you off, of course.”
Another friendly smile from Sharon and Whitney was sold. “Well, in that case,” Whitney grabbed the menu near the napkin dispenser and scanned the front page, “I’ll take the wings—spicy, not mild—some potato skins with extra sour cream, a Newcastle, and a brownie sundae, please.” Sharon’s pen scribbled over the paper and she gave her a brisk nod before turning to take my order next. I ordered close to the same thing as Whitney and closed the menu, leaning in on my elbows as Sharon hurried off.
“So,” Whitney asked pointedly, “what’s the deal, Montgomery? Are you trying to fatten me up or something? Ruin me for all other men?”
“Perhaps.” My eyes latched onto hers, thrilled she was actually making conversation, but she quickly looked down and began fidgeting with her purse.
“You’ve already done that,” she said, her voice quiet.
Maybe this action-first approach wasn’t doing the trick, after all. Maybe words were necessary. Right now, right this second. “Whitney, I—”
“Hey, there they are!” Tony bellowed from across the bar. Whitney’s head snapped up and I followed the sound of Tony’s voice, turning to find him strolling over with Tia on his shoulders.
“Tony? What are you doing here with Tia?” Whitney smiled, still not as bright as her usual grin, but enough to be courteous to her friends.
“Ah, just bringing the munchkin by to support my boy, here.” He crouched and let Tia slide down his back to plant her feet on the floor. She was decked out in pink overalls and a white t-shirt, her dark hair and expressive brows highlighted by the most important accessory of the evening.