Some Kind of Wonderful (Puffin Island 2) - Page 31
Ego aside, he wouldn’t have thought she would have forgotten it, either.
Or maybe her sex life had been so active since then she could no longer remember that first time.
He wondered whether it was the rich Greek who had wiped her memory of their time together.
He tried to push that thought out of his head. “I’ve been living in the old beach cabin at Hawker’s Point.”
“Seagull’s Nest?”
“Yeah. It’s been exposed to a bit too much wind and weather. When it rains there’s as much water inside as out. I’ve been fixing that.”
“You always were good with your hands.” She spoke without thinking and then caught his eye and gave a faint smile. “That wasn’t what I meant, but that, too. And you don’t need to look at me like that. We’re not teenagers, Zach. We can both agree the sex was good. It’s just a shame we didn’t leave it at that. Tell me about Philip. I heard about his arthritis. That must be tough on him. He’s used to being so active and I know how much he loves Camp Puffin and the kids. It’s been his life. How is he doing?” She moved the conversation forward smoothly, but nothing, not even her cool tone, could dampen the sizzle of awareness that heated the atmosphere in the car.
“The place is getting to be t
oo much for him. Winters are the worst. He’s trying to cut back, but he’s not good at it and there isn’t anyone to take over.” And that was something else that bothered him. He felt something he’d never felt before.
A sense of obligation.
The word made him shift in his seat, but nothing so simple could ease a discomfort that had its origins deep inside him. Never in his life had he ever felt he owed anyone anything. Until Philip.
He’d never known his father and had never been interested in finding a substitute, but of all the authority figures he’d met in his time, Philip had come closest to fulfilling that role.
It was Philip who had taught him to fly. Philip who had ignored the dire predictions of the social workers and everyone else who had ever come in contact with Zachary Flynn, and taken him in.
Without Philip Law, he wouldn’t have the life he had now. It was very possible that he wouldn’t have a life at all. Instead he could have died in a gutter, another sad story that people read and felt bad about for one minute before returning to their own comfortable, insulated lives.
“You’re helping him out? You’re going to stay awhile?” There was nothing in her voice that suggested she cared either way.
“I help when he needs me.” He didn’t elaborate on the detail of that help. “And I’ll stay as long as it feels right. I guess that’s a decision that’s going to bother some people.”
Judging from her lack of reaction, Brittany wasn’t one of those people.
“You don’t care what they think. You never did.” She sat up straighter as they left the cover of the forest and drove down the track that led to Shell Bay. “Emily tells me you were the one who flew her and Lizzy to the hospital when no one else would. Why did you do that?”
“Because no one else would.”
There was a long, drawn-out silence and then she stirred. “I appreciate you helping my friend. Will you do me one more favor? Next time you shop in Harbor Stores, make it clear you and I were over a long time ago. I can’t face having a one-on-one with Mel every time I go in to buy a bunch of bananas.”
“It wouldn’t matter whether you and I were over and done or not. I would never touch Mel.” He pulled up outside Castaway Cottage and watched for a moment as the surf crashed over the rocks that guarded the peaceful curve of Shell Bay.
It was the prettiest part of the island, away from the tourist spots and all the favorite meeting places for the islanders. Here the sky merged into the sea and the only sound was the rush of the waves and the call of the gulls. The only place he’d rather be was up in the air looking down on it.
His moment of quiet contemplation was disturbed by a few choice words from the seat next to him.
“Holy crap, is that what I think it is?”
He turned his head to see what had shaken her out of her mood of calm indifference and saw the large blue earthenware pot placed in the center of her front porch.
“Looks like a casserole.”
“I can see that,” she muttered, “but what is it doing on my porch?”
Zach studied it in silence, absorbing the implications. Knowing exactly what a casserole signified among the islanders, he stirred. “Unless you ordered takeout, I’d say someone thinks you’re in deep trouble.”
BRITTANY SLID FROM the car and approached the casserole as if it were a dangerous device that might explode in her face.
Seriously, after everything she’d been through so far that morning, now this?
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