“My time on Anchor is temporary,” he said, as if that were supposed to be a news flash.
Sid rolled her eyes. “What does that have to do with anything?”
He brushed the hair from her face. “Anything we started now would have to be casual and temporary. And you’re neither of those things.”
“I am so,” she said, with a kick to his ribs. She could do casual. “Try me.”
Not the two words he expected if the look on his face was any indication. She could see it in his eyes. Temptation warred with whatever fucked-up gentlemanly delusions were going around that damn head of his.
“No,” he said, moving away from the truck.
She hit the ground behind him. “No? Just like that? Why do you get to decide? I get a vote, and I say yes.”
“No,” he said again, stopping when she pulled on his arm. “I won’t start something I can’t finish.” His voice dropped to nearly a whisper as he wiped sand from her cheek with his thumb. “I’ve screwed up enough lives lately. I won’t screw up yours, too.”
His touch was so gentle and the regret in his eyes so real, Sid didn’t have the heart to keep arguing. Instead, she watched him walk away. He could have his upstanding ways today. But she’d change his mind. One way or another, Lucas Dempsey would have a spiritual moment in the bed of Sid Navarro. He could bet on that.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
By the time Lucas reached the house, he’d berated himself for being an idiot, vowed never to touch Sid Navarro again, and prayed his father would recover faster than expected. The last reminded him of his parents’ imminent arrival. At least he hadn’t had time to mess up the house, though there were dishes in the sink he needed to load into the dishwasher.
He’d driven his mom’s minivan up to the beach and the ride back felt like torture. Between fighting a hard-on, thanks to Sid’s scent and taste lingering in his brain, and the sand shot up his shorts by what he now thought of as the sanity-restoring wave, sitting comfortably in a bucket seat was not happening.
Cutting the engine, Lucas climbed from the van with one goal in mind: a long, cold shower followed by a hot, rich cup of coffee. Thank God his mother kept the good stuff on hand. As he approached the porch, he spotted a man and woman occupying his mother’s Adirondack chairs. The faces looked vaguely familiar so he knew they had to be islanders.
“Lucas Dempsey, I need to hire you,” said the man sitting to the left of the front door. Lucas stopped at the bottom step to buy time. Putting a name to the faces took a second.
“Mr. and Mrs. Ledbetter?”
“Mr. and Ms.,” corrected the woman. “I’m not married to this SOB anymore.”
Lucas didn’t have an answer for that. Ms. Ledbetter didn’t sound like she needed condolences, but offering congratulations seemed rude since the SOB in question was present.
“What is this about?” he asked. Based on the greeting, this wasn’t a social call.
“Gladys cut my tree and I’m going to sue her for it.” Franklin Ledbetter crossed his arms but remained seated. No neck could be seen between his large, bald head and thick, rounded shoulders. Bushy black brows anchored his forehead like one long hedgerow, and his bottom lip protruded in a pout that should only appear on someone four years old or younger.
Gladys occupied the chair on the other side of the front door. Flat brown hair, parted down the middle, flowed over her shoulders while blue eyes carried a look of amusement. If the threat of being sued by the man four feet to her right was keeping her up nights, she hid it well.
“I only cut the branches on my side of the tree. I was perfectly within my rights.”
Unless they had joint custody of a tree, this made no sense. Lucas took a step up, making the sand in his shorts slip higher between two parts of his anatomy that had experienced enough strain for one day.
Then Mr. Ledbetter’s words of greeting sunk in. “Did you say you want to hire me?”
“That’s right.” The older man pointed to his left. “I told her I’d cut that tree when I got around to it and she went and did it on her own.”
“Please,” Gladys said. “I’ve heard ‘when I get around to it’ for thirty-five years and you haven’t ever gotten around to anything in your life except a fishing pole and a beer.”
“You see what I’m dealing with here?” He went into full pout again. From the look of his gut and the tackle box next to his chair, Lucas didn’t doubt Gladys spoke the truth.
“I’m afraid I’m not for hire, Mr. Ledbetter. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Lucas reached the top step but Frank blocked his way to the door. For a man who resembled a Weeble Wobble, he moved quick. The smell of not-so-fresh fish filled the air. Lucas tried not to breathe in.
“Artie said you could help us. Said a lawyer up in Virginia could practice anywhere. You’re here, so you need to practice with me.”
The only thing Lucas would be practicing with Franklin Ledbetter would be his patience. And what the hell was Artie doing sending islanders to his door?
“Mr. Ledbetter, I’m on this island to run my family restaurant. Though Mr. Berkowitz is correct about my ability to practice here, that is not my intention or inclination. I’m afraid you’ll have to find yourself another lawyer.”
As Lucas swung open the screen door, Frank stomped his foot. “You have a civic duty here.”
He considered ignoring that statement, but worried the man would follow him into the house, assaulting the interior with his putrid odors. Lucas turned to Gladys. “Did you cut down his tree?”
“No, I did not.” Gladys smiled up at him. “I trimmed the branches on my side of the yard because they were getting too close to the house. It’s hurricane season and I’m not having my windows knocked out because his lazy butt won’t get out a ladder.”
Her side of the yard? “Didn’t you say you’re not married to him anymore?”
“That’s right.”
“Then how do you share a tree?”
“She won’t stay married to me,” Frank interjected, “but she moved next door so she can still torture me ’til my dying day.”
Gladys had no rebuttal. She simply continued to smile. Perhaps she wasn’t the innocent in this situation after all.
Turning to Frank, Lucas asked, “Did she only cut the branches on her side?”
“Maybe.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, the pouter avoided eye contact.
“Mr. Ledbetter, I need the truth.”
“Fine. Yeah, she only did her side.”
“Then there’s no suit.” Lucas slipped through the door, pulling and locking the screen behind him. Turning back to the pair, he added, “Case dismissed!” and shut the inside door.
Sid charged into Hava Java coffee shop on a mission. According to Will, and drunk old ladies in red hats, she possessed the weapons needed to seduce Lucas Dempsey. Now someone just had to show her how to use them. Will had been free with the advice to this point, so she seemed the natural place to turn.
After Lucas had left her standing on the beach, angry, aroused, and covered in sand, Sid raced home for a quick shower so she could stop at the coffee shop before reporting to the restaurant. Best to go in with a plan in place. Especially now that the game had changed.
What she hadn’t counted on was catching Beth at the coffee shop as well. Since Curly had been Lucas’s fiancée, she’d clearly been in his bed. Something Sid didn’t like to think about. The words sloppy seconds came to mind, but were instantly rejected since she’d wanted Lucas long before Beth ever met him.
Every woman had her own way of rationalizing what she didn’t like to deal with.
Sid had to make a decision. She could duck out before Curly saw her and talk to Will another time, which would mean facing Lucas without a plan, not something she wanted to do. Or she could somehow let Will know they needed to talk alone and together shoo Miss Annoyingly-Happy-In-Love on her way.