Still, nerves whipped around in her stomach faster than Minnie's second hand. Nikki fidgeted with the new gift shop items filling shelves along the waiting area walls—handpainted T-shirts, seashell ornaments with Charleston's historic Rainbow Row inked
in miniature. She mentally filed away craft ideas for her classroom during local history week. Her gaze settled on glazed sand dollars sporting a sticker of a C-17—the cargo plane flown by Carson.
Sheesh. Everything didn't have to be about Carson. Her dad and countless friends flew that same craft.
"May I help you with something?"
Nikki jolted and looked over her shoulder to find Beachcombers' proprietor, Claire McDermott. "Did you design these?"
Claire neatened the hanging racks of stenciled canvas bags in perfect descending order of largest to smallest. "My sister Starr did. I do most of the cooking, but we're short staffed out front today, so here I am. Our other sister handles the bookkeeping." She straightened her apron on curvy h*ps Nikki had finally given up on ever developing by the end of high school. "It's a family effort we hope will pay off."
"From the crush today, it sure seems so."
No wonder Carson with his lack of family connection ate here so often, even moored his boat in the area. She wondered if that might be why he'd spent time with her before, because she came with a family. And man that sucked, wondering if you were liked because of your parents and brother. Or if he preferred curvy types like Claire.
Nikki stomped down feelings and thoughts that too closely resembled the insecure idiot she'd been over Carson months before. The present carried enough problems.
She could see the questions in Claire's eyes that she was too polite to ask about what happened a week ago. The woman had to be frustrated at even the least association with the scandal.. .yet the place was buzzing with activity. Sometimes bad press could be better for business than no press at all.
Claire's attention shifted beyond her. Bustling around the counter with brisk efficiency, she passed Nikki a pamphlet. "Here's a list of our upcoming performers in the bar, and don't miss the discount coupons on the bottom."
The woman disappeared into the milling customers, emerging on the other side near two men who seemed familiar...
Nikki shook her hands loose trying to relax for a memory to shimmer free. The shorter man wore a backward baseball cap and sports jersey. The other man loomed taller and burly in a plaid shirt.
The image gelled in her brain. Both men had met up with Carson that night out in the parking lot. Ball-cap dude, she didn't know. But the man in the plaid shirt was Bo Rokowsky's brother-in-law. What was the guy's name? Vic something-or-another.
A tingling started up her spine, a shift in the air, an awareness that Carson had arrived even though she hadn't seen him yet and no, no, no she didn't want that kind of surreal connection.
Maybe the feeling was—
There he was. Carson. Tall, slim and golden blond, his tan deep from a lifetime outside. She wished she could remember his tan line, but there had been covers by that point.
Whoops. Dangerous territory for her thoughts, especially in public. She glanced back up to his lean face, features angular and tense, phone pressed to his ear while he searched the crowd for...
Her.
Dimples creased—because of her. He nodded his hello from across the room as he continued to speak into his phone and make his way toward her. The tingle increased to an all-over body flush. Just a casual get-together?
She wasn't fooling anybody, most especially herself.
Only a fool would risk going out with this woman, but Carson had learned long ago, the word fit for him every time he came near Nikki.
Except he wouldn't sacrifice common sense and safety even though the whole meal had tempted him to toss both out the back hatch. At least they'd accomplished something at lunch, compiling a joint list of people they remembered Owens hanging out with, hoping they would recall something overlooked initially.
He'd insisted on following her home even though, yeah, she'd driven over on her own. Maybe he simply wanted their time together to last longer and it really wasn't that far out of his way. Lunch with her had been so natural and easy, too natural. In the past there had been the boundary of her crush, something that most definitely put him in an older man role. Now they met on more equal footing, even though she wore a Minnie Mouse watch that for some reason he found endearing as hell.
Slowing outside the Price home, he pulled up on the curb behind her car, a perfect reminder of those slashed tires. No matter how tough and toned she appeared, she was still vulnerable to creeps who drugged drinks and tore her clothes.
The urge to protect pumped through his veins, thrummed in his ears, damn near blinding him. He could tell himself all day long to ease off the protector role because Nikki was strong, but in practice, she meant too much to him for him to be anywhere but by her side.
He blinked his vision clear and stepped from his truck just as she slid from hers, one slim leg at a time. Jeans never looked so good slung low on her slim hips, her jacket open to reveal a fuzzy sweater, bottom button undone to reveal a hint of skin.
Carson met her at her open truck door. "I'm sorry I was late for our lunch."
"You weren't late." She gripped the open door, Minnie Mouse waving from her wrist. "I was early, and I know things are insane at the squadron right now."
"Well, I wish I could have picked you up. Next time..."