All Shook Up Page 12

  Now that the idea of Char and Kev striking sexual sparks had been raised, she had to concede it had a certain kind of logic. But wow. Wouldn’t that set tongues to wagging if folks caught on. There was nothing Star Lake liked quite so much as its gossip.

  More important, Dru wondered if either Char or Kev realized what they were doing…or if it was only she who had been so slow to catch on.

  J.D. watched Dru stare at a display of toilet plungers and mutter to herself. When she turned away, he found himself tracking the sway of her hips and her long legs as she moseyed down the aisle. With a soft oath, he tore his gaze away and went back to the stack of swim trunks. He had to quit spending so much time looking at her. And he really had to quit messing with her the way he’d done earlier.

  Back in high school, he used to watch the good girls—during class, in the hallways, on the campus. When they caught him at it, he wouldn’t look away, getting a bittersweet sort of charge out of seeing them blush and scramble to get out of his range. The phase hadn’t lasted long—he’d outgrown the need to fluster them long before he’d graduated. Yet here he was, reverting to his old ways.

  He didn’t know what it was about her. Partly, he supposed, it was that same old fascination with good girls rearing its ugly head. He’d figured out long ago that was a product of envisioning the sort of upbringing they’d had—the house, the yard, the mother and father who doted on them. And despite Dru’s having Tate out of wedlock, he considered her one of them. There was just something sort of luminous about her. Something untouched.

  Yet she refused to be pigeonholed, and every time he thought he had her securely pegged, she slipped out of the niche he’d assigned her. She was no pushover scrambling to stay out of his way. When she’d turned around and scoped out the Natural Wonder until it’d started unfurling—then told him she’d seen better—he’d been mighty tempted to crowd her up against the nearest solid surface, and hadn’t particularly cared if it was horizontal or vertical.

  He’d show her better.

  He gave up the search for a pair of swim trunks as a lost cause. The stock seemed to consist of either blindingly neon, baggy to the point of ridiculous, or garish Hawaiian prints. The hell with it. He’d hack off a pair of jeans and call it good.

  As he passed a postcard rack, he stopped to check out the selection. He’d washed his hands of Butch, yet he still found himself picking out a card for him. His shoulders twitched defensively. So big deal, it would cost him a quarter. He probably wouldn’t even send it.

  He caught a glimpse of Dru again over by the rack of women’s bathing suits. She was holding up an animal-print tankini and still looked to be firmly entrenched in shopping mode, so he headed for the back of the store where he’d seen a tool aisle. He didn’t expect much in such a catchall kind of store, but checking out tools was always good for killing ten minutes or so.

  He tried not to speculate what Drucilla would look like in that suit.

  The array of tools was pretty much what he’d expected, though there were a few good pieces mixed in with the usual low-grade imported stuff. He pored over the selection for a while, chose a five-eighths drill bit he’d been looking for, then went to see if there was anything worthwhile back on the endcap.

  He hit paydirt.

  The endcap display itself didn’t hold anything of interest, but suspended from the ceiling against the back wall was a canoe. He stared at it, transfixed.

  He’d always wanted a canoe. He and Butch had helped themselves to one from the Arboretum rental shed at the University of Washington once, and paddled around for a couple of the best hours of his life before being chased off by the rental shack’s owner.

  This canoe was not new by any stretch of the imagination. It was old and beat-up, but he didn’t care. He wanted it. He headed for the front of the store.

  Dru was talking to the clerk at the checkout stand, her purchases in a plastic bag that swung from one hand. For the first time since he’d clapped eyes on her, he barely spared her a glance. He focused on the woman behind the cash register. “How much do you want for that canoe back there?”

  She blinked. “The canoe? That old one? Why…I don’t have the faintest idea. Let me call Fred.” She came out from behind the checkout station and walked partway down the main aisle. “Fred!” she hollered. “Can you come up here?”

  Moments later an older man with more tufts of hair growing out of his ears than his head trotted up the aisle. “What d’ya need?”

  The woman, who had been inspecting J.D. while they waited, indicated him with a jerk of her thumb. “He wants to know how much for Davey’s canoe.”

  “You’re kiddin’.” The man stared at J.D. “The thing’s a wreck, son. I only put it up in the first place to humor my grandson, because he wouldn’t believe me when I told him that no one in their right mind would ever buy it.”

  “I will.”

  Dru slid her hands in her pockets, the bag dangling from her wrist. “That still makes you half right,” she told Fred.

  J.D. ignored her. “How much?”

  “Well, I can let you have it fairly cheap.” Fred scratched his bald pate. “But you have to understand that I won’t guarantee its seaworthiness.”

  “I’m a carpenter. I’ll make it seaworthy.”

  “You ever work on a boat before, son?”

  “No.” J.D. shrugged. “But how hard can it be?”

  The older man opened his mouth as if to argue, but Dru jumped in.

  “Save your breath, Fred,” she advised. “J.D.’s got the biggest ego the region’s ever seen. When it comes to his carpentry, though, it’s justified: he’s already taken on a couple of jobs up at the lodge, and his work is spectacular.”

  J.D. looked at her in surprise. She was championing him? His amazement must have shown, for she shrugged and shot him a crooked smile of self-deprecation, as if she couldn’t quite believe it herself.

  He turned back to the shop owner. “Well?”

  Fred shrugged good-naturedly. “Hey, if you want it, it’s yours. My grandson will be thrilled.”

  J.D. grinned. “Yesss.”

  A short while later he looked up from carefully fitting the canoe into the truck bed next to the air conditioner and saw Dru watching him with a slight smile. Embarrassed to be caught stroking the boat, he growled, “What? You think I’m an sucker, don’t you?”

  “There’s one born every minute, they say.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Then this should give you a great big charge.”

  “Oh, it does. But not because I think you’re such a sucker; that remains to be seen.” She gave him a gentle smile. “I like to see people go after their dreams, and I got a charge out of seeing you get something you obviously want very much.” She opened the passenger door and climbed in, leaving him staring after her.

  Well…damn. How was he supposed to respond to that?

  11

  J.D. thought about her words off and on all that afternoon. He thought about them into the evening, and right through to the next afternoon, returning to them over and over again. Going after his dream, his ass—no one had a stupid boat as a dream.

  The sun was hot on his shoulders and he heard the mellow tinkle of a wind chime someone had hung from his porch roof; contentment filled him as he used a block of sandpaper to stroke away cracked paint from the bottom of the canoe. Where did she come up with this shit? It was just a project to keep him sane when his next indoor job had him going stir-crazy.

  He attacked a particularly rough spot on the canoe’s surface, then tenderly slicked his hand in the sandpaper’s wake to check for smoothness, thinking about where he’d take it out first. Maybe the far end of the lake, where it was mostly wilderness. He wondered if the tiny library up at the lodge had any books on boats. If not, maybe he should run to town and pick one up. It always paid to collect as much information as you could in order to do the best job possible. That wasn’t pursuing a dream, it was simply common sense.


  He was just thinking about knocking off for a while when Ben walked into the clearing. Shading his eyes, J.D. watched him approach. He set his sanding block aside and straightened.

  Ben walked up, handed him a beer, then looked down at the canoe resting bottom-up between two sawhorses. “I heard you got yourself an old boat to fix up.”

  J.D. eyed him suspiciously. “So you thought you’d just mosey on over and offer me a little avuncular advice?”

  “Nope.” Ben twisted the cap off his own beer and lit a cigarette. “Sophie likes you, and it’s upset her that you’re pissed at us.” He slid the lighter back into his pocket and met J.D.’s gaze squarely. “We’ve got this new saying around our place: when Sophie ain’t happy, ain’t nooobody happy. So I thought I’d mosey on over and clear the air.”

  “That’s pretty ironic, considering what you’re doing with that cigarette.”

  “Oh, Christ, don’t tell me you’re one of those. I’ve gotten so flippin’ p.c. lately, I hardly recognize myself. I don’t smoke in restaurants; I don’t smoke in the car. I gave up smoking indoors period, and I even gave it up outdoors when Tate’s around. Damned if I’m gonna give it up outside for you, too. Here, I’ll move downwind. Is that better?”

  “Much. Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. Now, I came over here today to set the record straight. My contacting a lawyer had nothing to do with you or Edwina’s bequest. Dru’s—” He cut himself off and leveled a look at J.D. “This goes no further than you and me, capeesh?”

  “Yeah, I get it.”

  “Good. Dru’s turning thirty in a couple of weeks, and I contacted Henry Briggs to look into what it’ll take to transfer a third of our shares to her and make her a partner in the lodge. Telling you in front of her would’ve spoiled the surprise.”

  J.D. thumped his beer bottle down on the sawhorse that held the upside-down canoe. Anger built with slow heat in his gut. “What do you take me for—a moron? There was something different in your attitude before I ever mentioned that phone call.” He glared at the older man. “I wasn’t hatched yesterday, Pops, so do us both a favor and don’t try to blow smoke up my ass.”

  “You are a moron, Carver, if you think I don’t have more balls than to sneak around behind your back, trying to contest your claim. My so-called attitude didn’t have a damn thing to do with your inheritance from Edwina. It was because I’d heard you were messing with Dru!”

  J.D. felt his jaw fall open and closed his mouth with a snap. “Messing with her! I didn’t mess with her—I kissed her one time!”

  “Yeah, well, she’s my baby and—”

  “You said she was going to be thirty!”

  “I know how old she’s gonna be,” Ben roared. “You think that makes a damn bit of difference?” Then he took a deep breath. “When it comes to your own, you never quit worrying, okay?”

  “Fine.” J.D. shrugged. He added bitterly, “But what you’re actually saying is that I’m not the kind of guy you want getting his hands down your baby’s pants, right?” He’d known that we’re-all-just-one-big-happy-family-and-you’re-a-part-of-it-now routine was pure crap.

  Ben took an incensed step forward but then caught himself. “You don’t strike me as the type who’s real big on commitment, that’s the truth.” He sucked in a final drag of smoke, then rubbed the paper tube of his cigarette between his fingers until the coal dropped out. Stepping on it, he pocketed the spent butt and gave J.D. a skeptical look. “Or are you going to tell me I’m doing you an injustice?”

  “No, you’ve pretty much hit that nail right on the head. What does a guy have to do, though, before he can kiss your niece—sign a declaration of intent?”

  Ben whispered a profanity. Thrusting his hand through his thick gray hair, he stared at J.D. “Now you sound like Sophie. I’m not saying what I felt was rational, all right? I’m just telling you that if you detected a change in my attitude the other day, that was why.”

  “Fair enough,” J.D. agreed slowly, wondering where the older man expected him to go from here.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” Ben said. “I’ll stay off your case about Dru if you’ll stop by and see Soph periodically. For some reason she’s got a real soft spot for you.” He suddenly smiled, a friendly, crooked one full of warmth. “Like I could ever put a halt to anything Dru wanted, anyway, once she got it into her head. As everyone loves to remind me, she’s a grown woman with a mind of her own. I guess if she wants you kissing her, you’re gonna be kissing her.”

  “You don’t think I might have something to say about that decision?”

  Ben gave him a who-are-you-trying-to-kid look, and one corner of J.D.’s mouth tipped up. “Okay, so if Dru wants me kissing her, I’ll probably kiss her.” The thought of her making such a demand made a place low in his gut go hard and tight. Then he got real. “If it’s any consolation, though, neither of us plans to go there. That kiss was a fluke, pure and simple.”

  Ben snorted. “You just keep telling yourself that, sport.” He killed off his beer and turned to go. “Stop by and visit Sophie,” he commanded.

  J.D. watched him until he disappeared down the trail. That was a first. The type of woman he usually kissed didn’t tend to inspire male relatives into paying him a visit.

  He shrugged and turned to pick up his tools and supplies, then headed for the cabin to clean up. Might as well take a break and go see if he could find some books on canoes and boat building.

  As he passed his small dining room table a moment later, the colorful postcard he’d bought for Butch caught his eye, and he stopped to pick it up. He’d written, Glad you aren’t here, across the back. Then, thinking of their conversation a few days ago, he’d added, But I’m still expecting to see your face plastered on the six o’clock news any day now. He had addressed it, although he’d probably never get around to buying a stamp for the thing. Because, while he’d written the first part of it as a joke, he actually was glad Butch wasn’t here.

  This place felt worlds removed from his old neighborhood and all the wheeling, dealing, and jockeying for position that went on there. It still seemed god-awful quiet at night, but he liked hearing birds instead of traffic during the day, and smelling growing things instead of the weary scent of defeat and exhaust. It was pristine in more ways than the merely physical, and he had no desire to see pieces of his old life corrupting it.

  He propped the card back up against the vase of wilting flowers on the table and headed for the bathroom to wash up.

  “Come in,” Dru called in response to the knock on her door. She flashed Char a smile when the door opened, then turned to snatch her rolled towel off the couch. “I’m almost ready. Let me just find my sunglasses.”

  “Look at you!” Char stepped into the apartment. “I didn’t know you’d bought yourself a new bathing suit.”

  “I got it yesterday after I saw you at Bronsen’s. The seat was pretty well shot on my old one.” And she didn’t want J.D. to see her in it again. Shrugging the thought aside, she struck a pose. “So what d’you think?”

  Char shook her fingers. “Ossky wow-wow.”

  A surprised huff of laughter escaped Dru. “I haven’t heard that expression since your grandpa died.”

  “I know, but it’s appropriate. What I can see looks fabulous. Drop your shorts and I’ll give you my opinion on the whole look.”

  Dru laughed a deep belly laugh. “I’m sure glad nobody’s around to hear you say that—this is how rumors get started.”

  “And considering neither one of us has had a date in way too long, it probably wouldn’t stretch people’s imaginations a heck of a lot to jump to the wrong conclusion. So let me rephrase that. Show me your suit in its entirety,” Char said in an affected, societylike tone, “that I might judge its overall appearance.”

  “I’ll show you when we reach the dock. No sense stripping down now, since I’d just have to put my cutoffs back on again.” She grabbed her sunglasses off the kitchen counter.

  “I
don’t want to see your stupid suit, anyhow.”

  Dru laughed. “You’re such a liar, McKenna. You’re probably already planning how to find one even better so you can one-up me.”

  “Damn. There’s something sort of spooky about being known that well.”

  They grinned at each other, then turned as one for the door.

  A short while later they spread their towels out on pads on the end of the Lawrences’ private dock. Char plopped down on hers, set out her water bottle, magazine, and sunscreen, then looked up at Dru, who was still shucking out of her cutoffs. “Where’s Tate today?”

  “He spent the night at Billy’s and he’s still there. Mary was going to bring him home earlier, but the boys were having such a good time, she called to ask if he could stay until dinner.” Kicking her shorts aside, Dru twisted around to look at herself over her shoulder. “Okay, be honest—does this animal print make my butt look too big?”

  “It’s a tankini! I thought it was a one-piece. How chic. And no, you boob, it looks great. What is it with you and your butt, anyway? I wish I had half your curves.”

  “I wish I had half of ’em, too.”

  Char laughed and tossed her the bottle of sunscreen. “Here, get my back, will you?”

  Dru knelt behind her and shook the lotion down toward the cap.

  “I couldn’t believe it when you just walked off and left me stuck with Kev yesterday,” Char groused into her folded arms. “Thanks a bunch—some friend you are.”

  Dru, who had just poured the sunscreen into her palm, stared at her friend’s back in amazement. “Are you serious? I told you I was taking off, and the two of you barely blinked. My God, I told J.D. he was wrong, but he had you guys pegged dead to rights. You and Kev were so focused on each other, I could have set off a bomb and you wouldn’t have noticed.”

  Char rolled over. “What are you saying?”

  “That the two of you were all caught up in some verbal foreplay thing.”

  “Are you nuts?”