It's a Love Thing (46 page)

Drake knew he’d capitulated before he
even nodded his head. He’d probably capitulated the first time she
asked him when she’d told him she could ride. Megan squealed at his
nod and quickly placed the helmet back on her head. Drake scooted
to the back seat, making room for her to climb on.

She pulled the bike upright, Drake
surprised she could do that with his weight on the back. She
started it, and he could feel the waves of pleasure rolling off her
as it rumbled to life beneath them. He knew the feeling—there
wasn’t anything like riding. It was his one and only
pleasure.

The Harley had belonged to his father.
When Drake was released from juvie, his dad had shown up, the
Harley on a trailer behind his truck. He’d rolled it off and handed
the key to Drake. “It’s yours,” was all he’d said before climbing
back into his truck and driving away. Not exactly a touching
father-son reunion, but Drake didn’t want that. The Harley—that he
did want, so he took it and never looked back.

Megan rolled the bike smoothly onto
the road, and without even a slight wobble they were off. Drake
held his hands firmly on the sides of the seat beneath him. He was
tempted—beyond tempted—to place them on her waist. But he had a
feeling there would be no turning back for him from such an action,
so he left them where they were.

Megan stayed true to her word, taking
him down the road, then rolling it into a wide U-turn before
heading back to where her bike waited. When they arrived, she began
to climb off, but Drake held her in place with his hands on her
shoulders while he swung off the back. Without a word he walked to
her bike and climbed on. He glanced over at her, saw the beaming
smile of gratitude on her face, unable to resist answering it with
a smile of his own.

Her bike was small and felt like a toy
beneath him as he followed her back to town. She rode his bike as
smoothly as she’d ridden her own. He was impressed. She stopped in
front of her bungalow, pulling his bike into the driveway and
parking it, cutting the engine before she got off. She walked over
to where he’d stopped her bike, pulling her helmet off.

“
Thanks, Drake. That was
awesome!” she enthused. “I always knew it would be amazing to ride
a Harley. Now I owe you. How about you stay for dinner?”

Drake’s first instinct was to agree,
but then he remembered who her father was. “I don’t think that’s
such a good—”

“
Megan,” Tom called, coming
from of the house. He glanced at Drake, then walked over to his
daughter, kissing the top of her head. “Drake,” he said in
acknowledgment. “Where’ve you two been?”

“
We went for a ride,” Megan
said. “Drake let me ride his Harley.”

“
Really?” Tom asked,
looking at Drake with something new in his face, as if he’d had a
revelation about him. Drake wasn’t sure he liked that.

“
Yeah,” Megan confirmed.
“He’s staying for dinner.”

She walked into the house without
waiting for either of their responses. Tom looked at him, a
question on his face. He wore khaki shorts and a t-shirt with some
brand of surfboard on it. It was the first time Drake had seen him
in anything other than a wetsuit.

“
I tried to tell her I
didn’t think it was a good idea,” he began.

“
What? Letting her ride
your Harley?” Tom asked.

“
No. Well, yeah, that too.
But I meant me staying for dinner.”

“
Might as well stay,” Tom
said. “She doesn’t take ‘no’ very well.”

“
I noticed,” Drake said. He
climbed off the bike and set his helmet on his own seat. “I wanted
to let you know I got a job.”

“
Oh yeah?” Tom asked,
walking toward the house.

“
Yeah, at Seaside
Rentals.”

“
Ah,” Tom said, glancing at
Drake. “Andrea’s a good woman. A bit rough around the edges, but
good through-and-through.”

“
I know,” Drake
said.

“
Does she know about . . .”
he waved a hand between the two of them.

“
Kind of. I tried to tell
her, but she wouldn’t let me.”

Tom laughed. “I’m not at all
surprised. Everything else going okay?”

Drake stopped as they arrived at the
door to the bungalow, and Tom stopped with him. Drake looked around
nervously. “Well, sir, you should know . . . I jaywalked. Just
once. Almost got hit by a car. It won’t happen again, I
promise.”

Laughter danced in Tom’s eyes, but to
his credit he kept a straight face. “That’s strike one, Drake.
Let’s not go for strike two, okay?”

Drake nodded, and followed Tom into
the house. Before the night was out, he somehow had made
arrangements to take surfing lessons from Tom, and to let Megan
ride his bike again. When he arrived back at his own bungalow,
still trying to figure out how either of those things had happened,
he realized he was feeling something he hadn’t felt for as long as
he could remember.

Content.

*****

The darker color of Drake’s skin
surprised him. He’d always had a sort of olive tone to his skin,
but he was definitely tan, now. All that time spent in the water
with Tom and Megan could be blamed. He’d become a pretty decent
surfer.

Tourist season was in full swing,
keeping Drake busy at Seaside Rentals. Andrea kept her equipment in
good repair, which wasn’t easy with how hard the tourists treated
the rentals. Drake spent more time working on scooters and dune
buggy’s than helping customers. Andrea was great to work for, and
over time he learned she’d had a pretty hard life, having a few
run-ins with the law herself. She regretted most of what she’d done
because she’d lost her friends and family in the process. Drake
understood.

The bell over the door tinkled, and
Drake walked up front, putting on his most welcoming smile. It
widened into a genuinely welcoming smile when he saw who stood
inside the door.

“
Here to rent a scooter?”
he teased. “Probably has as much power as that Honda of
yours.”

Megan mock-glared at him.
“Ha-ha.”

Drake and Megan had been on several
rides together. He even occasionally allowed her to ride his
Harley.

“
I came in to see what time
you were getting out of this rat-trap,” she said.

“
I heard that,” Andrea
called from the back, and Megan laughed. Andrea’s shop was one of
the cleanest Drake had ever seen, and Megan knew it. She just liked
to rile Andrea up.

“
I have another hour or so
to go,” he said.

“
Well, when you’re done do
you wanna hang out?”

Drake smiled. That was
Megan’s usual question, if he wanted to
hang out
. “No,” he said. Megan’s eyes
came to his, equal parts shock and hurt. Drake never refused
to
hang out
with
her. He decided to let her off the hook. “I want to cook for
you.”

“
You want to . . .
what?”

“
Cook for you,” he said.
“As in, you come to my house and I make you dinner and we eat it
together. Providing it’s edible, that is.”

“
Oh.” She seemed at a loss
for words—a rare thing where Megan was concerned.

“
Well, this is something I
have to see,” Andrea said, coming through the door. “Drake, you
didn’t tell me you can cook.”

“
I can,” he said
defensively. Then he added honestly, “Sort of.”

Andrea laughed. “Then get out of here
so you can get busy cooking.”

“
Really?” he asked, though
he didn’t need to. Andrea wouldn’t have said it if she didn’t mean
it, that much he knew for certain. Then he realized Megan hadn’t
answered him. He looked at her. “I guess I should see if I’m going
to have a dinner guest first.”

Megan smiled. “Of course you are. This
is something I have to see as well.”

Drake washed up before walking Megan
back to her place. “Give me about an hour?” he said. She nodded and
he headed home, as he wondered why he was doing this.

*****

Drake didn’t know why he was nervous.
He’d been around plenty of girls. Megan was different, though.
There was just something so . . . good about her. He wished he knew
how to make more than burgers and mac and cheese, but he’d never
had reason to have to know how to do anything but eat to
survive.

He saw her coming up the beach. It was
hard to miss her with her sun bleached hair. She wore her usual
knee length denim shorts and tank top—today it was white. She
carried her flip flops in her hand. A feeling of protectiveness,
almost possession, struck him as he watched her. He didn’t know
where it came from, and it scared him like nothing had before. And
considering some of the company he’d kept in the past that was
saying something.

“
Hey,” she called as she
neared, and he lifted his hand in greeting.

She came up onto the small cement pad
behind the bungalow and dropped her flip flops, sliding her feet
into them. Her hair picked up and blew in the breeze. She captured
it, twisting it and pulling it over one shoulder in an attempt to
tame it.

“
Burgers, huh?” she asked,
coming to stand next to him.

“
Is that okay?” he asked.
“You’re not vegetarian or anything, are you?”

“
No, I’m a carnivore,” she
assured him.

“
It’s not fancy,” he said.
“I don’t really do fancy.”

Megan laughed. “Neither do
I.”

“
You should,” he muttered.
“You deserve it.”

“
What was that?” she asked,
and he shook his head, horrified that he’d said the words
aloud.

“
I thought we’d eat
inside,” he said. “With this breeze we’ll be eating sand burgers,
otherwise.”

“
Wouldn’t be the worst
thing I’ve ever eaten.”

He scooped the patties onto a plate.
“Me neither,” he said, leading the way inside.

Megan stood inside the door and looked
around. Drake hadn’t changed anything, hadn’t added anything. He
didn’t have anything to add, and wasn’t sure he had the right to,
anyway.

He placed the plate of burgers on the
table, and grabbed the bowl of mac and cheese from the microwave
where he’d been keeping it warm.

“
Have a seat,” he told her,
sitting down himself.

“
I’m impressed,” she
said.

“
Impressed by burgers and
mac and cheese?” he asked skeptically. “If this impresses you,
maybe you’re dating the wrong kind of guys.”

Megan grinned at him. “I’m impressed
that you cooked. I haven’t had a guy cook for me
before.”

“
Well, that’s probably
because they could afford to take you out for a real
dinner.”

“
Don’t sell yourself short,
Drake. Girls are more impressed by a guy putting forth the effort
to do something nice for her than by wining and dining her in the
fanciest restaurant. At least, this girl is.”

They ate, talking about some of the
funny things tourists did. Only the very wealthy could afford to
stay in this town, and many of them treated the residents as if
they were their personal servants. After they finished their
decidedly un-gourmet meal, they moved out to sit on the patio and
watch the sun set on the ocean.

Drake cleared his throat. “Have you
lived here all your life?”

“
No,” she said. “We’ve only
lived her about ten years.”

“
Your dad come here for his
job?”

“
No,” she said again. “We
lived in New York. My dad was a cop there. He worked hard, wasn’t
home much. Then he arrested a particularly bad criminal. The guy
posted bail, came after my dad, and shot my mom
instead.”

Drake was horrified, sure his face
reflected his shock. “She died?”

Megan nodded.

“
And so your dad decided to
move to the ocean and surf the rest of his life?”

“
Of course not,” Megan said
defensively. “He fell apart, blamed himself, began drinking. He
quit his job, and I learned to take care of myself at ten years
old.”

“
I’m sorry,” Drake said. He
was sorry for both his assumption and for her loss.

“
It took him some time to
realize that he was a mess. He went to rehab, got some counseling,
and then he came home to me, a changed man. We talked and decided
together that we needed a change of scenery as well. He talked to
his Captain who had heard about the opening here for a PO. He
recommended my dad, and we’ve been here ever since.”

“
Wow,” Drake said. “I would
never have believed you and your dad had anything but a happy
life.”

“
Shouldn’t make assumptions
about people,” Megan chided gently.

“
And you forgave him for
everything he did to you?”

Megan kept silent for a moment. “Yes,
I did. That was then and this is now. Who we are now and what we do
now is what counts. His past is just that—the past.”

“
You really believe that,
don’t you?”