Declaration (14 page)

“It’s kind of hard not to.”

“
Ha
.” His brows shot up and he poured himself some whiskey, dropping on the small cabin loveseat. “Speak for yourself, man. That girl’s a pain in my ass.”

“She’s spirited.”

Jackson rolled the whiskey around in his glass, chuckling. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Anyway, we almost hooked up tonight, and then I…I…”

“Out with it, bro.”

I reached for his whiskey glass, chucking back the remainder in one gulp. I handed him the empty glass. “I almost called her Kate.”

Jackson’s head fell back and he sighed. “Oh, damn.”

“Yeah, well, to make matters worse, I just left her sitting half naked at my damn apartment. I took off like a bat out of hell after she opened up to me about her fear of rejection and all this shit. And your buddy Ruben paid me a visit before I went in to work, rambling on about how you told him about my past with Kate and how he’d use that as ammo to have Whitney for himself.”

Jackson stood and took a few steps across the tiny cabin to the fridge to retrieve me a beer. “I don’t know what he told you, dude, but I barely said anything. I was drunk and stupid. I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“So, you left her there? Have you talked to her since?”

“Nope.”

“You need to tell her.”

“Tell her what?”

“All about this Kate chick back home. Assure her you’re not in love with her anymore. Because you’re not, right?” He tilted his head and gave me a warning look.

“You know I am.”

“But Whitney needs to know you’re not.”

“How is that honest?”

“Look, bro, you might not see it, and I know I haven’t known you that long, but you’re in love with an ideal and you’re making her the perfect girl in your head. You aren’t really in love with Kate. It sounds like you definitely were at some point, but right now? You’re in love with the idea of her. Maybe you have been this whole time and you just couldn’t see it. The point is, you obviously have a thing for Whitney, which means you’re ready to move on. So, move on. There’s nothing dishonest about that. Just be upfront with her, just like she is with you and everyone else on this island. Tell her the truth.”

“I guess you have a point.”

“I know I do.” He crashed next to me on the couch again while I gripped the cold beer bottle tightly. “For what it’s worth, I’ll do my best to keep Ruben off your back for a while to give you some time to patch things up with Whitney. I’ll tell him to back off. He’ll listen to me.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, man.”

“Trust me,” he glanced at me with a nod, “Ruben can be persistent when he wants something. And he’s wanted Whitney for a long time.”

“So I hear.”

“Just let me talk to him.” He yawned again, stretching his arms. “Sorry to hear you had a rough night. I gotta crash, though. You can sleep on this seat if you wanna stay. I’ll see you later?” He nudged my shoulder and started for the bed.

“Yeah, thanks.” I stood and set my beer on the counter. “I better get back to my place. See ya.”

I stepped out into the foggy night and walked back to the shop, catching the glowing light from my apartment window upstairs. The curtains were drawn, the window in clear view, and the place was empty.

***

For the most part, Whitney hadn’t spoken to me the rest of the week. She hadn’t objected to me checking in on Emma, though. So I still helped keep her company when I could, while Whitney was at work. I did manage to fill Whitney in here and there on Jackson’s status, assuring her that he was a mess without Emma. She seemed to appreciate it, but other than that, our conversation was sparse. The second things got awkward, Whitney would bolt before I could talk to her about what had happened that night in my kitchen.

Emma had been doing well for a few days, starting to resume her normal routine, but then that progress went out the window one night when she had the sudden urge to sneak out and go line dancing. The next morning, she vowed that our babysitting duties were over for good and that she was ready to get back to the real world, so I took her word for it and turned in my resignation. It was time to give her space and let her get back on the horse.

Now that Emma was on the mend, there was nothing between me and Whitney but us. Nothing else to talk about except the big elephant in the room: what had happened the night I ditched her at my apartment.

Liz was cradled in her case, which was slung comfortably over my shoulder, as I traipsed over the sandy dune toward the pier. I glanced at my watch. There was no guaranteeing she’d be there, but this was her lunch hour. At least, it was the first time we met. My eyes traveled over my shoulder, back toward the swanky resort where she worked. I adjusted Liz’s case strap and breathed deeply to steel my nerves.

The pier came into view and the breath I’d taken in to garner some strength whooshed from my lungs and lodged itself somewhere in the back of my throat.

There she was, sitting on the edge of the dock, her back to me.

I stilled for a second and then resumed my stride, walking quietly onto the dock. She shifted at the sound of my footsteps, turning to peer back at me through her dark shades.

“Hey,” I said softly, coming to a stop next to her. “Mind if I join you?”

She folded her sandwich foil and opened her paper bag to stuff it inside. “I was just going.”

“You haven’t finished your lunch.” I eyed the remains of her chicken salad sandwich and the plastic bag of apple slices as she hurried to stuff them away.

“I’m not that hungry today.”

She moved to stand, but I stooped down to sit next to her, cupping the side of her neck to give her skin a gentle brush. “We need to talk, Whitney.”

“No, we really don’t.” Her voice was determined, but I could feel her melt into my touch.

I massaged my fingers into her nape and then moved to lift her shades so I could see her eyes. “You know we do. I’m really sorry about that night. After what you told me…I can’t believe I took off like that.”

Her lashes fluttered and she fixed her smoky greens on me. “Then why did you?”

I let Liz’s case slide from my shoulder and I set her down. “There’s this girl back home. Her name’s Kate.” I chanced a peek at her to see if any recognition registered on her face. She still didn’t seem to have caught the fact that I almost called her Kate that night. “She’s my best friend, aside from that guy Dean I told you about. But I had a thing for her, the feeling wasn’t mutual, and when the guy she’s with hurt her, things got messy. Between us, I mean. I was protective and I did things I shouldn’t have done. I had no right to, because she wasn’t ever mine.”

“Oh.” She nodded her head in understanding, looking down.

“I haven’t been interested in anyone since. Not genuinely, I mean. Not since I met you. I just freaked out for a minute there. I was conflicted. I wanted to tell you what was going on in my head, but I didn’t want you to take it the wrong way. I didn’t want you to think it was you, because it’s so
not
you.”

“It’s not me, it’s you, right?” She sent me a wry grin.

“I swear I’m not trying to serve you up some cheesy, clichéd excuse, okay? Bottom line is I’m still hung up on some shit back home. I admit that, but I want to move on. When I’m hanging out with you, I feel like I might be able to do that. I
want
to do that. So, is there any chance we can start over? Will you give me another chance?”

Her small grin widened and she brought her eyes back up to meet mine, gripping the lunch bag tight in her fists. She didn’t open her mouth to answer. Instead, she slowly tilted her head and moved in to press her lips lightly on mine. Relief rushed through me, quickly followed by desire. I reached out and cupped her face, guiding her harder against my mouth. My tongue peeked out and teased her lips open, and she accepted me, leaning into my chest and letting me kiss her deeply. We both exhaled through our noses, sinking against one another.

“Is that a yes?” I asked against her mouth.

She snickered, pulling back a tendril of hair so she could look up at me. “For what’s it worth, I’m still hung up on my own baggage, too, which you’ve obviously caught a glimpse of, when I’ve rambled on about it.” She rolled her eyes with a smile. “So, that’s a yes. And for the record, I’m not rushing you into anything here, okay? We can take things slowly. This can be casual. No pressure.” She rubbed her nose against mine and nipped at my bottom lip. It sent a shot of pure pleasure straight down my spine and into my groin. Mental images of her on my stove top that night pounded into me, and snapshots of all the things I wanted to do to her followed right behind.

“Thank you. Can we start tonight? Do you work at the diner?”

“Nope, I’m free.”

“Good. Me and you, then.” I nipped her back, brushing away stray black hairs from the sides of her face. “My place at 8 tonight, deal?”

“I think I can do that.”

“Okay,” I pecked her on the forehead and stood, turning to leave, “and bring that tip you owe me.”

“What?” she laughed, swiveling around to follow my movement. “Who do you think you are, Montgomery? And where are you going? You just got here.”

I walked backwards, flashing her a cheeky grin. “I have work to do. Got a hot date tonight.” I winked and turned around, my feet picking up into a hurried trot to carry me down the pier and back toward the beach.

I smiled to myself the whole way home. My writer’s block was gone, and I had a song to finish.

***

The knock on my door came at exactly 8:02 p.m. The candles were lit, the fish and chips were hot and fresh, and little pieces of England were strewn all over my flat. My BBC DVDs were on display on the coffee table, a “Keep Calm and Love the Hellions” tablecloth dressed the tiny dinette set, and Union Jack touches were scattered everywhere.

Forget easing this girl into my crazy. She was about to be thrown down the rabbit hole.

I adjusted my glasses, then my Union Jack bowtie, and pulled my top hat snugly over my head before opening the door. “Evening, Mum,” I greeted Whitney, bowing and stepping aside to let her in.

Her lips broke apart into a wide smile and she tapped the brim of my hat. “Well, don’t you look dapper, sir.” She stepped inside, laughing as her eyes fell on my cheesy display. “Wow! Do I need a passport for this date? ’Cause if so, I’m screwed.”

I closed the door behind her and led her to the table. “You’re in luck, love. I brought England to you tonight.”

“I see that…” She giggled again, running her fingers along the tablecloth as I pulled out her chair.

“Dean and I had that made ages ago for our first gig.” I gestured to the Keep Calm logo. “We used it for our merch table. No one bought anything, of course.”

“I love it! So, what’s the special occasion?”

“This is our starting-over date.” I shrugged and waited for her to sit. I pushed the back of her chair in once she was settled, then moved to take my seat. “Figured I should go all out. You know, introduce you to my world. The real me. Scary, huh?”

“Terrifying.”

“At least you’re honest.”

She smoothed her hair behind her ears and scanned the helping of food in front of us. I couldn’t help but notice how she’d worn it down, straight and sleek. A bold, bright blue tube top dress showed off her tiny shoulders and tantalizing cleavage, and her green eyes were clear and bright. “You’ve already scored big time, Montgomery.” She smiled and reached for the fish. “I love fish and chips.”

“I thought you loved food in general.”

“True,” she said through a mouthful of fish, chewing with gusto. “
Mmmmm
heaven. Hand me the tartar sauce, please.” She gave the jar a nod and I obliged, chuckling as I watched her spoon a huge glob onto her plate. “What’s for dessert?”

“Dessert?” I squeaked, a French fry stilled at my lips.

“Yeah, you know, the sweet stuff served after dinner?”

Shit. I’d forgotten dessert. How could I have forgotten dessert?

Whitney’s earnest expression dissolved and she started laughing, helping herself to another heap of chips. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

“I can… uh…I can make something. I mean, if you want dessert, I can—”

“No,” she launched a fry at me, nudging my foot under the table. “I was joking, Carter. I wasn’t expecting dessert. I wasn’t expecting anything, especially this.” She gestured to my décor and her eyes twinkled as she locked them on my stunned face.

I finally breathed. “Whew. Okay, good, because you just told me I scored points. I’d like to keep them intact.”

“Oh, they’re intact,” she sing-songed, taking a swig of her Newcastle. “So, how have you been managing without a car? Been taking the bus all week?”

“Nah, I ended up buying Jeff’s car. He wanted next to nothing for it.”

“Well good, I’m glad you can get around again. So, all the British nonsense…there has to be a story behind it all. Spill.”

I took a bite of fish and washed it down. “No story, really. Dean and I have this geeky obsession with all-things British, that’s all. I’ve always wanted to visit the UK, just never had the money. So I get my fix by watching as many British shows as possible and imagining what it would be like to stroll the English countryside someday. I know, it’s lame.”