“Withdrew your offer?” Sid shifted, glancing over to the waves pounding against the beach. “So it’s on the market again? Free and clear?”
“That’s right.”
Her shoulders relaxed a bit, but her eyes stayed on the water. “You’re walking away?”
Lucas held silent, waiting for her to meet his eyes again. When she did, he said, “From the garage, yes.” He stepped closer. “But not the other. Not yet.”
Sid dropped her gaze again, but didn’t back away.
“I hope you’re not ready to walk away either.” He lifted her chin with one finger. “I want to make this up to you. Will you let me?”
She stared into his eyes as if trying to determine whether he meant the words or not. He put every feeling he had out for her to see, and took her reluctant grin as a good sign.
“You’re not going to buy me a truck or something, are you?”
“No more buying. This time, I’m going to make you something.”
Sid raised a brow. “You? Make something?”
He couldn’t fault the skepticism. He hadn’t shown her any of his skills outside of the bedroom. Time to correct that.
With relief flooding his body, Lucas moved closer and slid his hands around her waist. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have respected your wishes.”
She moved her hands up his chest. “Yeah. You should have. Do you understand why I need to do this my way?”
Lucas still wasn’t sure he agreed with her plan, but he did understand. “It’s hard for me to see you want something and not do what I can to give it to you. I hope you know that my intention was never to take the dream away. Quite the opposite. But I respect your decision. And I respect you for it.”
A light shone through her eyes as if he’d just given her the world. “Thank you.” She lifted on tiptoe and took his mouth with hers. Leave it to Sid not to wait for him to make the move. God, he loved this woman.
The thought had him ending the kiss before they wound up horizontal on the wet sand. Which, now that he thought about it, was how this whole thing had started. As he pulled back, Sid came forward.
“What’s the matter?”
He dropped a kiss on her nose. “Be home by sunset,” he said, ignoring the pouting lips begging for more attention. “And don’t be late.”
Leaving Sid standing there took enormous effort, so he broke into a jog to keep from turning back.
“What about the restaurant?” she asked, raising her voice over the wind and surf. “Who’s going to run the bar?”
“Will is covering today,” he yelled over his shoulder. If he turned around, he was toast.
“What are you going to do?”
He did turn then. Sid’s face split in a bright smile and his heart landed on the sand. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, watching her dark hair whip in the wind. She looked like a goddess of the depths. Or would, if her shirt didn’t read “I can’t help it you’re a douche bag.”
She propped a hand on one hip. “This better be good, pretty boy.”
If everything went to plan, good would be an understatement. “Hey,” he yelled. “Leave the door unlocked, okay?”
Sid nodded agreement, then waved as she went back to her run. Mission one accomplished. On to mission two.
I know you know so just freaking tell me already.” Sid had repeated similar statements since arriving at work that morning, but Will refused to confess, claiming she didn’t know anything.
Bullshit.
“This is the last time I’m going to say this. I have no idea what Lucas is planning.” Will slammed the tap shut, cutting off the beer that had been flowing into the tall, chilled glass. “Ask me one more time and I’m shoving a bar rag down your throat.”
Sid didn’t scare easy, but Will did look like a woman on the edge. And she had the advantage of height, if not weight. Hard to tell what the lanky ones were capable of.
“Fine. I’ll stop asking.” Sid hefted the loaded tray onto her shoulder. “But not because I believe you.”
She heard a huff behind her, but kept walking. Crowds had been thin considering the official end of the summer season was still a month away. Tourists always straggled onto the island well into fall, but the real money that sustained everyone through winter was made in June, July, and August.
Thinner crowds meant fewer tips and that slowed her down a bit. Sid hoped Fisher losing out on a potential sale would make him more desperate. Then she could swoop in and take the place off his hands for a price well under asking. She sent up a silent prayer to whatever higher power might be listening. A little divine intervention never hurt.
“Explain this to me again,” Will said, when Sid returned to the bar. “Lucas tried to buy the garage for you? I can’t even get a guy to buy me flowers, and you’ve got a BMW-driving lawyer buying you whole buildings. You must have seriously made that man see God.”
“I am not discussing my private life with you. At least not here. But yeah, he tried to buy the place.” Sid stuffed her latest tip in the pocket of her apron. “Everybody’s giving ones today. I need to shove some of this in a drawer in the back before I lose it.”
“Go for it,” Will said. “We’re good up here.”
Sid dropped her tray behind the counter, then swung through the kitchen. As she reached the office door, the phone rang.
“Dempsey’s. How can I help you?” she answered.
“Lucas Dempsey, please.” The voice was male, clipped, and not one Sid recognized.
“He’s not here right now. Can I take a message?”
“This is Davis Holcomb of Bracken, Franks, and Holcomb, Mr. Dempsey’s employer. Is there another number at which I can reach him?”
Sid considered her options. If she said no and this was an important call, she could screw up Lucas’s gig back in Richmond. But then, in all honestly, she had no idea where he was. Calling his cell was clearly not a possibility.
Then she remembered he’d asked her not to lock her door. It was a long shot, but the man was welcome to try. “There are a couple of numbers I can give you. The first is for his parents’ house.”
“I tried,” the man interrupted. “He’s not there.”
She was trying to help the guy out. The least he could do was use a friendlier tone.
“Then you can try the other.” Sid shared her home number, then let the cranky caller read it back.
“That’s right,” she said. In case he wasn’t there either, she asked, “Would you like me to take a message in case he doesn’t answer?”
“Yes. Tell Mr. Dempsey either I see him in my office on Monday, or he can forget coming back at all.”
With that bombshell, the line went dead. Sid dropped into the desk chair and stared at the phone in her hand as if it might start talking again. Hopefully to say, “Just kidding.”
Only this wasn’t a joke. And Sid definitely didn’t feel like laughing. She felt like crying and screaming and calling the phone company to disconnect her service before hateful Holcomb got through to Lucas. Maybe he wouldn’t be there. Which meant Sid would have to give Lucas the message.
How in the hell was she going to do that?
After a morning setting the scene, then pilfering his mother’s cupboards to find everything he needed, Lucas stood in Sid’s kitchen chopping shallots and mushrooms for chicken marsala. By some miracle, the sun had burst through the clouds shortly after he’d left Sid on the beach. It was as if the universe approved of his plan, and decided to lend a hand to make it perfect.
As he gathered the bits of mushroom against his knife to transfer to the bowl, Sid’s phone rang. Normally, he’d ignore it. But a quick glance at the caller ID, more out of habit than nosiness, revealed a familiar number.
“Shit.”