Sugar Plum Serenade (Seawolf Beach #2)

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Tuck knocked on Olive’s door right on time. He could’ve hidden away and sulked for the evening, maybe for the next few days, but when she’d invited him for dinner he’d been so surprised he’d been compelled to accept. A spur-of-the-moment invitation wasn’t like her. At least, it wasn’t like the woman he’d thought her to be. Not that he was complaining. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but his temporary next-door neighbor had a way of taking his mind off everything else.

She answered the door quickly, unlike him. In his defense when she’d rung his doorbell, he hadn’t known it was her…

She’d slipped into something more comfortable for the evening, which wasn’t as exciting as it was in the movies. Baggy sweatpants and an oversized Seawolf Beach T-shirt did not make for a seductive outfit. Olive’s dark hair was still damp from the shower. She’d scrubbed her face clean. She was gorgeous.

In a matter of days she’d surprised him in so many ways. He hadn’t seen her coming.

He stood in the kitchen doorway and watched as she cooked. She made the huge omelet as if it wasn’t the first time. No bacon, more’s the pity, but she did have toast and jam to go with the cheese omelet she slid from the pan, cut in half, and then placed on the kitchen table. Coffee was already made.

Their conversation could be awkward, he supposed. They didn’t know one another all that well, and at the same time… they did. They talked about customers between bites, commiserating over the challenging ones and laughing at those who deserved to be laughed at. There were good stories, too. Little kids shopping for a parent or grandparent. Women shopping for friends and being thrilled to find just the right gift. Tuck even talked about a few of his regular customers, and the local bands who performed at The Magnolia on a regular basis.

It was a pleasant conversation, and Olive was definitely pleasant to look at. He could almost forget what Colt had told him, could almost write the entire Maude story off as a ridiculous fantasy. But he hadn’t imagined that warm breeze on one cheek, or the gut instinct that told him it was all true.

One of these days he’d sit down at the computer and do a search on Maude Reeves and Phillip Shelton. But not today. In truth, he didn’t really want to know. The idea that he might’ve had a grandmother living right around the corner all these years gutted him. She’d been right there, but the news of her existence had come too late. He didn’t do broken hearts but hearing the truth, if it was the truth, broke his heart a little.

Olive made things better. He could’ve called one of his guy friends if he wanted a night out, but how on earth could he explain? Beyond a simple “what’s wrong?” Olive hadn’t asked for explanations.

They sat on the couch after supper, staring at her little Christmas tree decorated with white lights and a few plain gold ornaments. No tinsel or garland, no personal touches. She had a cup of herbal tea in her hands; he held a mug of coffee. It was cozy. Nice. Friendly.

He wanted more than friendship from her, but now, while he was reeling, was probably not the time to make a move. What an oddly mature and unexpected thought.

He could easily lose himself in Olive, if she’d have him. A kiss, a well-placed hand, skin-to-skin contact of any kind would soothe him. He didn’t go there. After they talked about customers and bands they turned to a discussion of Dawn and Mike, their kids, other volunteer firefighters and their annual gift drive. During a pause in the conversation, while Olive was taking a sip of tea, Tuck asked, “Do you believe in ghosts?”

He’d suspected she might spit tea and laugh at him, but she did neither. “I haven’t had any ghostly experiences, but I know people who have. Or say they have. Anything is possible, right? I can’t say there are no mysteries in the universe.” She looked at him then, square on. “Why do you ask?”

Colt hadn’t explicitly said his ability was a secret, but it was implied, right? If he wanted everyone to know, he would’ve told the world years ago.

“I have a friend who says he sees ghosts, and I wondered… Is he crazy? Delusional? Or maybe…”

“The guy at the record store? Colt?”

So much for keeping a secret. Maybe it wasn’t a secret after all. “Could be. How did you know?”

“I didn’t know , not really, but I have seen the way he talks to himself, and Dawn said there was a rumor the depot was haunted. Since the man who owns it walks around talking to air, or maybe to people no one else can see if you believe in that kind of thing, it isn’t much of a leap.”

Felt like a damn long leap to him. “I’ve always been a believer of what I can see with my own eyes and not much else.”

“Most of us are,” Olive said. “Colt could be off his rocker, but maybe he has an ability the rest of us will never understand. I’d like to think there are still secrets in the world, that we haven’t figured everything out just yet. A little mystery is a good thing.” She laughed. “I can’t believe I said that. I can’t stand not knowing everything, but maybe when it comes to ghosts I can let that slide.”

“I kinda like having everything figured out.” Talking to Olive had eased his mind. Nothing had changed, he didn’t know where to go from here, but his heart no longer raced and his thoughts had calmed. The news Colt had shared called for investigation; he had to know if what he’d said, through Maude, was the truth. But he didn’t have to start anything tonight. “I confess, I don’t quite have you figured out.”

Leaning in and over to kiss her was instinct. Not planned, not thought through. He surprised her, but she kissed him back. They each still held a mug in their hands. He stopped kissing her long enough to put his mug on the coffee table, then he took her herbal tea and placed it there, too. She didn’t protest.

When their hands were free, she swayed into him, not away. Her warmth and softness were a pleasure, ones that made him forget for a moment that his world had been turned upside down. She draped an arm around his neck, pulled him closer, deepened the kiss.

It would be so easy to lose himself in her. Too easy. He felt himself falling, falling, getting more lost in her with every second that passed. The kiss was amazing, but he wanted so much more than a kiss. He wanted all of her. Bare from head to toe, wrapped around him, needing him the way he needed her. That could happen right here on this couch, which was surprisingly roomy. In her bed. In his bed. He didn’t care where.

Whoa. Too fast . One kiss did not a relationship make, and he was too damn old for one-night stands that were always a disappointment. Besides, Olive wasn’t a one-night stand woman. She deserved more. She deserved better.

Sleeping with her so soon, so impulsively, would destroy whatever friendship they were forming. If he didn’t stop kissing her, that one last rational thought would fade to nothing in a heartbeat. It wouldn’t be fair to bury his anger and fear by burying himself in her. She might be the right woman, but this was the wrong time.

Maybe she had the same thought, because before he could back away, she did. She didn’t look upset or surprised. He didn’t see regret in her dark brown eyes.

“I needed that,” she said softly.

“Me, too.”

“I haven’t been surprised for a very long time.”

She didn’t say what had surprised her. The kiss, probably, but maybe it was more.

“I’ve had my own share of surprises today,” he confessed.

“Care to share?”

“Let’s just say the other surprise wasn’t nearly as pleasant as you.”

She smiled, and he almost moved in again. Olive was a tempting woman. It had been a long time since he’d been so intrigued. Right now, when he was wondering who the hell he really was, probably wasn’t the time to give in to temptation.

“I should go,” he said, but he didn’t stand.

“Yes, you should.” She didn’t move, either.

“If I don’t…”

Olive sighed, and then she looked at the Christmas tree. Avoiding him in some small way? Maybe. Still, neither of them moved. “I didn’t expect… anything like this. I’m really not in the market for a relationship.”

“Neither am I.”

“But we can be friends, right?”

Tuck stood slowly. “Sure. I need to go.” While I still can…

“I hope you feel better.”

Standing by the couch, he looked down at her. “I do.” He’d forgotten about ghosts and grandmothers and lost opportunities for a while. “Thanks, friend.” He headed for the door, turned to look back at her. “Do you have plans for Sunday?”

“No. Unless you count sleeping in as a plan. That’s the one day the boutique is closed.”

He’d been thinking of asking her to spend Sunday with him, but when she mentioned sleeping in, he changed his mind. “Go out with me Saturday night. Dinner. Dancing.” And who knows what else…

“No dancing,” she said. “But dinner would be lovely.”

He grinned at her. “Great. Wear something sexy.”

Olive stared at the closed door. Wear something sexy? She didn’t own anything sexy! And if she did, she wouldn’t have brought it with her. She’d packed clothes for working at the boutique and for exercise. One red and green T-shirt with a holiday themed gnome on it for the family gathering, since south Mississippi was too warm for her ugly Christmas sweater. All her shoes were comfortable, made for standing or walking. All the clothes she’d packed were practical .

Of course, she did work at a boutique that had a few sexy offerings.

When she’d come here to help Dawn she hadn’t imagined her stay might include a date that wasn’t really a date and a hot neighbor who kissed as if there was nothing and no one else in the world. How could she have prepared herself for Tuck?

Maybe nothing would come of it. They didn’t have all that much in common, she had to admit. Again, she wasn’t looking for a man, and if she was… he wasn’t her type. She told herself that again and again.

But really, did she even have a type? Hot, kind, and chivalrous should be every woman’s type. And that kiss …

It was going to take some time to wind down after that. She wasn’t in the mood for TV and didn’t want to pick up her book. Her mind reeled with the wonderfulness of reality; she wasn’t interested in fiction at the moment.

Olive grabbed her phone and pulled up a favorite album from her music app. She listened, lost in the lyrics and the flow of the notes while she did a few stretches to work out the kinks brought on by a long day on her feet. She closed her eyes, stretched her arms over her head, twisted side to side. It felt good. She bent down to touch her toes and swept back up again. And again. She balanced on one foot, a yoga pose she’d learned in a class she’d started last year.

The second song on the album was a slow, pleasant, almost generic pop tune. She let the music wash over her as she moved. She didn’t think about Tuck for a few long seconds. She didn’t give a moment of brain power to retail or family or Christmas. Instead she simply felt the music. Her stretching turned into a dance of sorts as she moved. Up, down, around, a twist. And there was Tuck again, creeping into her thoughts.

Dinner and dancing he’d said. And oh, that kiss .

In the middle of the song, she stopped moving and forced herself to stand perfectly still. What the hell was happening to her? Nothing and no one made her dance. Not even Nathaniel Tucker.