That Thing You Do (Whispering Bay Romance Book 1) (Volume 1) (13 page)

“It took the EMTs a long time to get her out of the car. Zeke…he was on the side that hadn’t been smashed, so they got him out right away. He’d hit his head on
the dashboard, but they told me he’d be okay. But Mom and me…they had to get us out through the other way, because our side of the car was all crumbled up. And all that time, she kept trying to grab my hand, but I couldn’t reach her.”

She tried to shift away and Tom realized that he was probably crushing her. He reluctantly loosened his grip around her shoulders. Allie took a deep breath.
“If the other car had hit us just a little more to the rear, I would have been the one crushed in the car. Everyone told me afterward how lucky I was.” She glanced down at her hands. “And I know it could have been worse. Zeke could have been killed and then I wouldn’t have anyone. Well, except Buela.”

Tom had always wondered what happened to Allie’s father. He’d asked her once, but she’d
brushed it off and he hadn’t wanted to press her. “What happened to your dad?”

“After Mom died, he tried to take care of us, but he was messed up pretty bad, too. Emotionally, I mean. So Buela moved up from Miami. My grandfather had passed away the year before, so I guess taking care of us helped her overcome all that grief. At least, that’s what she said.”

“Where’s your dad now?”

Allie shrugged. “I don’t know, and I don’t care.”

Neither of them said anything more. They sat there in his car, listening to the water lap gently on the shore. After a long time, Tom realized it had grown late. Way past Allie’s curfew. He didn’t want her to get in trouble, so he gently disentangled his stiff arm from around her shoulder. “I’m really sorry, Allie.” It sounded dumb,
but he couldn’t think of anything better to say.

She nodded, then smiled. Her color looked normal again and the shaking had disappeared a long time ago. “Thanks,” she said simply.

*~*~*

A
t eighteen, he hadn’t
been able to offer more than a mumbled “I’m sorry.” At thirty, he still didn’t know what to say. Watching your mother bleed to death… How had she overcome that?

He
took another swig of the whiskey laced coffee and waited for her to continue.

“Well, you know I planned to go to law school after getting my BA in Journalism, but I don’t know,” she said, “Law school was something Buela always wanted for me but I never really saw myself in a suit working for some firm.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “What about you? I thought you wanted to be an architect.”

“Construction Management was a more practical way to go at the time. I had a family to feed.” He shrugged. “It just made more sense.”

She glanced at him sideways. “What ever happened to that red Crown Victoria of yours? I thought you were going to drive it to the day you died.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I really loved that car. I traded it in for a SUV with enough room for a car seat
and a pack and play and all the other stuff we used to haul around.”

“Henry seems…like a terrific kid.”

“He’s the best.”

She smiled.

He cleared his throat. “So this ghost story, it’s really important to you, huh?”

She took another sip of the coffee. “I know you think it’s all a bunch of bunk.” He began to protest but she waved a hand at him. “Don’t pop a blood vessel,
I get it.” She looked at him over the top of her cup. “If you want to know the truth, I don’t believe in ghosts, either.”

“You’re kidding, right? Then what the hell is this all about?”

She sighed in an exaggerated way that made him think she’d already had a little too much of Mimi Grant’s special coffee. “I’m in competition with another journalist.” Then she told him all about the
magazine and her editor and some jerkoff named Chris Dougal, who wanted the same job she did.

He took it all in, sipping his laced coffee, trying not to stare at her too much. But it was getting harder by the second. She leaned back on her elbows and stretched out those legs of hers and he tried not to imagine how they’d feel wrapped around his waist.

Concentrate, Donalan
.  

“So tell me about this famous story of yours. Perky the Duck?”

She made a face. “Perky and I have a love-hate relationship. If you know what I mean.”

Yep. Definitely too much of Mimi’s coffee. Damn, but he liked talking to her. Always had. Probably always would.

She shifted around and pulled her legs together Indian style. The motion brought her closer to the mattress. Dangerous
territory, for sure. He should probably move back some. But he didn’t.  

“The only reason I got the story is because a friend from college volunteers at a wildlife sanctuary in Tallahassee. There was this hunter who’d put a bunch of ducks he’d killed in a freezer in his garage and later that night his wife was out there and heard a noise. So she opened the freezer and found one of the ducks
still alive.”

Tom shook his head and laughed. “Crap.”

Allie grinned. “Yeah, I’d probably have a stroke. Anyway, she grabbed the duck and called the wildlife sanctuary and the rest is history. Thanks to the miracle of modern veterinary care, Perky made a miraculous recovery.”

He didn’t want to offend her but he was curious. “And that’s it? That’s the story that was picked up by
the Associated Press?”

“It’s crazy, I know. But yeah, that’s it. So now you know about my love-hate relationship with Perky. I love that the story got so much attention, but I hate that it’s the story everyone remembers me for.” She divided the rest of the coffee between them and capped the thermos. “And now I’m stuck writing about this haunted building that doesn’t look like it’s haunted
after all.”

“Why don’t you find something else to write about?”

“Believe me, I’d love nothing better. But my editor is hell bent on this story. And since I’m hell bent on getting a job at
Florida
! I don’t have much choice. Hence, I’m stuck here for the night.” She glanced at him. “You, on the other hand, don’t really have to stay, you know.”

He nodded slowly. “I know.”

Her brows shot up. “Does that mean you trust me with your precious building?”

“I trust that you aren’t going to vandalize it, if that’s what you mean. But I’m still not about to let you spend the night here alone.”

She hesitated, then asked, “Tom, when you walked in on me using the ghost detector app, did you smell anything…unusual?”

“Like what?”

“Just anything that you
hadn’t smelled before.”

The only thing he’d caught was a whiff of her perfume. Something expensive. Sexy. Elusive. Just like her. “No, nothing unusual.”

She looked disappointed. He wished for her sake they had seen something. Anything. But of course, that wasn’t going to happen because there was no such thing as ghosts. Too bad he couldn’t make one materialize so she could write her
story. He had a sudden urge to beat the shit out of this Chris Dougal guy.

He thought briefly about reaching out to kiss her. She’d either shut him down or kiss him back. Yes or no. At least it would be out in the open. Must be the whiskey making him think crazy. Because kissing Allie Grant would be a huge mistake.

Tom pulled a blanket over him and laid down. “I’m going to sleep. I
have a big day tomorrow.”

“Sure. I’ll just…hang around.”

He tried to sound innocent. Non-threatening. “You’re welcome to the other side of the mattress.”

She snorted. “Right.”

Smart girl
.

*~*~*

A
llie walked around the
building, flashlight in hand. It was dark and quiet and chilly enough that she had to rub her hands up and down her arms to warm herself. Maybe
if she didn’t try so hard, something would happen. Because
something
needed to happen. Otherwise, this was going to be the most boring article in the history of
Florida
! magazine. She might as well hand Chris Dougal the job on a silver platter.

She made a thorough search of the building, but this time the ghost detector app was silent. It seemed ridiculous to stay awake when nothing was
happening, so she formulated a plan. Get a couple hours of sleep then try again with the ghost detector. She made her way back to the main room and settled herself on the woolen blanket.

An hour later (she knew it was an hour because she kept checking her watch), Allie was still awake. The wooden floor beneath the blanket was hard and uninviting. Something scurried past her.
Oh God
. It was
those cockroaches again.

She peeked over at Tom, asleep on the queen sized mattress. Why hadn’t she thought to bring an inflatable mattress? She knew for a fact Zeke and Mimi had one. Tom had invited her to share the bed, which of course she’d scoffed at, but apparently her lower back didn’t have as much pride as the rest of her. It was practically screaming at her to get off the floor.
Plus, there were those roaches to think about. Allie had read an article once about a woman who had swallowed a roach in her sleep…

She was being ridiculous. She and Tom were adults. He was asleep and she was beyond tired. She laid down on the edge of the mattress, trying her hardest not to disturb him, but it was a blow up mattress, which meant the whole thing was flimsy at best. She turned
on her side, pulling the blanket up around her chin and shut her eyes.

After what seemed like forever, but in reality was only twenty minutes according to her watch, Allie was still wide awake.

The whiskey had made her woozy. She was exhausted. The inflatable mattress was a lot more comfortable than the floor, so why wasn’t she asleep? She strained to listen to Tom’s breathing, but
there was only silence. Did he snore? Apparently not.

Despite the chill in the air her skin broke out into a light sweat. There was one definite big con to sharing a bed with Tom Donalan. Lying inches away from him, it felt like every cell in her body had gone on full alert. No wonder she couldn’t sleep. Did he feel it, too?

“I don’t bite,” he said.

She froze.

Okay.
There
were at least four or five snarky retorts she could respond with, but that would only make the situation stickier. Best to pretend she was asleep.

“I’m glad you decided to be practical and share the bed, but you’re going to fall off the mattress,” he continued.

Her eyes flew open. “How did you know I was still awake?”

“Really?” He shifted over, creating more room on the bed for
her.

Tom was right. She was so close to the edge it was ridiculous. She shuffled more to the center, still careful to keep their bodies from touching.

He turned and casually propped his head with the back of his hand so that he looked directly down at her. She couldn’t avoid him even if she wanted to. The thing was, she was beginning to think that she might not want to.

“Why
aren’t you with someone?” he asked.

“Who says I’m not?”

“Are you?”

She should make something up. Tell him she had a boyfriend. Except, what did it matter? “Nope, I’m free as a bird. Not that I haven’t had plenty of opportunities, but a serious relationship isn’t in my life plan right now.” Okay, so maybe the word
plenty
was an exaggeration. But he didn’t have to know that.

“Your life plan,” he repeated slowly.

“Yep. My life plan. Comprised of four parts. But I’ve only completed two so far.” She paused, uncertain whether or not to go on.

“I’d love to hear it.”

Sarcasm? Interest
?

Not sarcasm. He sounded too…intense.

“All right.” She took a deep breath.
Surreal
. That’s what this was. Talking about her life plan with Tom Donalan of
all people. The guy who had screwed up her original life plan. But there was nothing better to do, so why not?

She held up a finger. “Part one, get my college degree.”

He nodded.

“Part two, sow my wild oats. Which means—”

“I know what it means.”

“No need to get snappy. So, part one and part two are done. Part three is a little trickier. It’s get a permanent job with
Florida
! magazine, which this ghost story would help me land.”

“Why that magazine? Why not some other publication?”

“Because that’s the one I want. It’s a perfect mixture of everything I like to write: ecology, travel, human interest. Plus, its headquarters are in Orlando so it would be an easy transition from Tampa. I’d still be an hour from the beach, close to a major international
airport, and just a long afternoon drive from family. It’s perfect, really.”

“Sounds like you got it all figured out. So what’s part four?”

She startled. Had she told him her life plan had four parts? She must have or he wouldn’t have known to ask. It must be the whiskey making her careless. “Sorry, but part four is private.”

“Private as in, you don’t tell anyone? Or you just
don’t tell me?”

“I’m not discriminating here. Private as in, I don’t tell
anyone
. Period.” Before he could respond to that, she said, “My turn to ask a question. What made you change your mind and stop the demolition?”

He was silent long enough that she didn’t think he was going to answer. Finally, he said, “Maybe I just didn’t want you to think I was an asshole.”

“Yeah, well,
maybe I think it anyway.”

Okay, Allie, that was uncalled for.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. As a matter of fact…I really appreciate this. I know how much inconvenience this has caused you, not to mention what it might mean with your job. I guilted you into it, right? That whole big ‘you owe me’ speech.”

“You didn’t guilt me into anything.”

He was telling the truth. She
could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. But if he hadn’t postponed the demolition out of some sense of outdated guilt, then why had he done it?

“Allie, have you ever wondered—”

“Nope,
never
.”

 
Geez!

She was such a liar because
of course
she’d thought about
it
. She was thinking about
it
now, for God’s sake. How could she not? She was lying a mere six inches away
from him.