His Proposal, Their Forever. Melissa McClone
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nodded, then stumbled.
He grabbed her with his free hand. “I’ve got you.”
“Thanks.”
He should be thanking her. Warmth and softness pressed against Justin, making him think of lazy autumn weekend mornings spent in bed, the brush of flannel sheets against skin, the feel of someone else’s heartbeat and the sound of another breath.
Yes. He needed to get out more. Nothing serious, just for fun.
He helped her into the car, closed the door, then walked around to the hatchback and loaded the painting. “Tell me about this burger place. Good food?”
She turned and leaned between the front seats. “Best fries in town, thanks to a special seasoning mix. A little spicy, but not too much.”
“I don’t mind a little heat.”
His words came out more suggestive then he’d intended. But what could he say? That image of a bed and tangled flannel sheets was burned on his mind.
She faced forward. “There are bungee cords, if you want to secure the painting.”
Justin battened down the frame, then slid into the driver’s seat. His right knee crashed into the steering wheel. “Knowing that was coming didn’t help.”
He expected her to laugh at him, tease him at the least, but no mocking laughter appeared in her eyes.
“That had to hurt.” Her nose crinkled, her forehead, too. “You okay?”
“That’s supposed to be my line.” He didn’t like being on the receiving end of her seeming to care. She was the enemy and would lose this fight to save the inn. “I’m fine.”
“That’s my line.”
“Now we’re even.” He adjusted the seat so his legs half fit, then saw the stick shift. “You managed to drive a clutch with your injured foot.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“Damn straight I am.” The woman was unbelievable. But he knew that. “Did you even consider staying home or at least off the roads?”
“I had no choice. If I hadn’t come, there wouldn’t be an inn.”
So much for a truce. “If you’d been bleeding with your foot torn to shreds—”
“That’s what rolls of gauze and bandages are for.”
“You’re either dedicated or insane.”
“A little of both.”
Her admission surprised him. “Seriously?”
“No one completely sane chooses to be a full-time artist. The market’s as fickle as the economy, creativity comes and goes and making a living is hard. But I give lessons, put on events and sell an occasional piece. Somehow things work out.”
Her car sat lower to the road than any car he remembered driving. Not a bumblebee. More like a battery-powered toy. He fastened his seat belt. “You must be doing okay, given this car.”
“I’m not a starving artist, even if I look like one. I travel back and forth to a gallery in Seattle. I need a reliable vehicle. This one fits the bill.”
From crazy to practical in less than thirty seconds. She must drive her boyfriend to the brink of insanity.
But what a way to go, a voice in his head whispered.
Justin ignored it. He drove up the block to the inn and parked at the curb. “I’m going to bring out the rest of your artwork. Won’t take me long.”
Five minutes later, he was back behind the wheel. “Which way?”
“Follow Bay Street until you reach Third Avenue. You can only turn right. You’ll see the Burger Boat on the left.”
He glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. “Think you’ll be able to hold yourself together that long?”
“Guess we’ll find out.”
He couldn’t tell from her tone if she was joking or warning him.
Justin drove past the marina. Many of the slips were empty. The fishermen and charter-boat captains who made a living on the sea must be hard at work. People like Bailey’s family.
Across the street sat stores and cafés, one after another. The buildings looked newer, not just with a new coat of paint, but updated facades to add to the quaint, coastal feel of the town. One restaurant had a crow’s nest, but no drive-through window.
People, dressed in shorts or sundresses, filled the boardwalk running the length of the Bay Street shops. The little town of Haley’s Bay was a big draw with Cape Disappointment and Long Beach nearby.
A boat-shaped building with a giant plastic hamburger for the ship’s wheel caught his attention. Must be the Burger Boat. The blue-and-white paint job looked new, as did the windows. But the architecture screamed early 1970s tacky and retro-cool.
“Follow the anchors painted on the pavement to get to the drive-through window.”
He did and stopped behind a silver minivan. There was no intercom system with a digital screen to display an order, only a window. “What do you recommend besides the fries?”
“The pirate booty burger is good if you have a big appetite. The hazelnut chocolate shakes are amazing.”
“You know the menu well.” He expected a shrug, but didn’t get one.
“I eat here once a week. Have since I was a kid. They add seasonal shake flavors like pumpkin in the fall, and occasionally change up the Catch of the Day burger, but pretty much the menu has stayed the same for as long as I remember, a lot like Haley’s Bay until they put in new shops on Bay Street.”
“You don’t like the changes.”
This time she shrugged. “They are tourist spots, necessary for a service-oriented town, but not practical shops for those who call this place home. I miss the old places like the hardware store and pharmacy.”
“The familiarity?”
“Consistency.”
“To balance the not-always-stable life of an artist?”
“I guess. Maybe I’m just stuck in my ways.”
The minivan pulled away from the window. Justin released the brake and drove forward.
“I’ll have a dinghy burger, fries and root beer.” She dug through her yellow shopping bag and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. “Lunch is on me. I appreciate the ride home and not having to wait for my family.”
Justin had two choices. Accept her offer or say no, thanks. He weighed both options. One would piss her off. Both might. But she was tired, and they were hungry. No sense aggravating the situation more. And she had ruined his day. A free lunch wouldn’t make up for the mess she caused.
He took the money.
Loose strands of hair curled around her face and caught the light. The color looked coppery like a shiny new penny. His stomach tightened. That had nothing to do with being hungry.
She wasn’t sweet or nice. She was a pain in the ass.
Still, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
The fast-food place’s drive-through window slid open.
“Ahoy, matey. Welcome to the Burger Boat.” A man in his early twenties with a chipped front tooth and a sailor cap grinned. “What can we reel in for you today?”
Justin gave their order and paid with Bailey’s twenty.
A foghorn blared inside the restaurant, the nautical sound effects matching the place’s boat theme.
“Here’s your change.