Soldier, Handyman, Family Man Page 8

  “As a matter of fact, you do owe me. I was thinking tomorrow night Peter could babysit, since he owes me, too, so I can take you to my favorite seafood place up the road.” He hadn’t actually been there yet, but something told him the restaurant would indeed become one of his favorites, if present company was included.

  Surprise tinted her eyes as her smile widened. “That sounds great.”

  “On one condition.”

  She tossed him a “there’s more?” glance.

  First he noticed Peter had been roped into twirling his sisters by holding them under their arms, so he was sufficiently distracted. Then he glanced back at Laurel. “That you wear that dress and your hair up just like that.”

  Her face relaxed into a lazy grin. “I think that’s doable.” Her voice sounded lower. Sexier?

  And they were flirting, in front of his nosy grandfather, who, if he knew the man at all, was anything but distracted by the kids’ playing. He could also feel his grandfather’s stare, the heat gathering on the back of his neck. So Mark turned to look at him, seeing that annoying I-believe-in-selkies twinkle in his eyes. And tried to ignore it.

  “Well, I’ll be off for a pint now. Nice to meet you, Laurel, Peter, Gracie and Claire.” He gave a direct look to Mark. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Not if Mark could avoid it!

  It wasn’t until Laurel gathered up her kids and headed for home that it hit Mark. What did I just do? So caught up in the moment of victory for Laurel, he’d forgotten. He wasn’t ready to date yet. To have a normal life again. Was he? The thought of socializing with Laurel for an entire evening made his palms sweat because she was out of his league. They didn’t have anything in common beyond his helping her fix things, or his looking after her kids. She’d probably said yes only because he’d put her on the spot. Seriously, what did he have to offer a woman like her? She knew what she wanted for her future, and he was still avoiding his. She’d probably be bored out of her mind having dinner with him. Big mistake asking her to dinner, when he wasn’t sure he was ready.

  Even if he was thinking about dating and getting involved with a woman again, why pick a sophisticated woman with a family to complicate things, and what could he possibly have to offer her in return? Once she got to know him better, she’d discover how humbly he lived at the family hotel, when she’d been married to a man who’d provided for her and three kids. He couldn’t possibly measure up. And probably lose interest. Then how awkward it would be to see her across the street every day.

  All the good feelings he’d been enjoying, before insecurity snuck in seemed to swirl tight and settle in his gut as he watched the family walk away, little Gracie turning to smile and wave one last time. If she was looking for security, he wasn’t her guy. Nor did he want to be.

  He bit his lower lip and went back to work, even though his thumb still throbbed. As he hammered a few more nails, he made a snap decision to not think about dinner out tomorrow with Laurel as a date, that way if things didn’t work out, he wouldn’t feel as bad. He’d call it payback. She owed him for watching the girls and setting up a playdate so Peter could meet that “someone from school” without dragging his little sisters along.

  In case his rationalizing wasn’t strong enough yet, he’d also look at it this way: it served in his best interest. Asking Laurel to dinner was convenient, because he’d wanted to eat at The Grilled Sea, a new seafood restaurant in Sandpiper Beach, for the longest time. But he hadn’t wanted to go there alone.

  So their plans for dinner out were all about calling in a return favor.

  Not a date, which he still wasn’t ready for. Just payback and convenience.

  He’d made the mistake of asking a lady or two out when he’d first come home, and quickly discovered he wasn’t ready for casual dating or being social yet. Both evenings had been painfully long and squirm-worthy. So putting that different spin on tomorrow night’s plans would take the pressure off. Otherwise, he’d be an anxious wreck for the next twenty-four hours over a date with a woman that interested him. He’d spent enough time being anxious when he’d first been discharged and had to deal with PTSD, and he didn’t want to go there again. Things had settled down on that level, but being attracted to Laurel, the thought of just the two of them, made him nervous. Which meant she was special.

  Stomething about Laurel made him want to give it a shot again.

  *

  Saturday night, still reeling from her successful preview Friday evening and Saturday morning, plus the fact she’d received her very first B&B reservation shortly after, Laurel decided to break one small portion of her promise to Mark. She wanted to wear her hair down. The decision was based on jitters and uncooperative fingers. Truth be told, she was more nervous about her dinner date with Mark than the three mock guests yesterday and this morning combined, and she’d been extremely edgy about that. Couldn’t do a thing with her updo.

  A date? Was that what this was? Or merely “payback” as Mark had insisted. She hadn’t been on a date since college, when she’d met Alan. The significance of Mark’s being her first date in nearly sixteen years made her eyes water. He was a nice guy on top of being sexy in a clueless kind of way, and she’d been smiling a lot more since he’d shown up to help her unpack two weeks back. What about the finger lick? OMG, what had she been thinking? She’d just wanted him to try her sandwich dressing, and before she knew it, she’d stuck her finger in his mouth. The zing that’d set off zipped up her arm and shot straight to her lady parts. She couldn’t deny she had a secret crush on the sexiest handyman she could ever imagine, or that she wanted to look good for him, but what did that mean? Anxiety streaked through her. Letting herself feel again? Her pulse tapped quicker in her chest.

  The B&B was finally opening, and she’d be busier than ever. Her children had to come first, the B&B a close second. Anything else would have to come a distant third. She wouldn’t have time to get involved with anyone. With him. Say it, say his name. Mark. Her pulse settled down a bit.

  She stared into the mirror, checking her freshly applied lipstick after saying his name so quietly, she had to read her own lips. This one date couldn’t and wouldn’t lead to anything else. He said she owed him for watching her kids, which logically meant she should be buying him dinner.

  Maybe that’s what she’d do, insist on buying their meal. It would send the message their debt was settled and they could revert to business as usual…once she found a babysitter.

  Laurel made a mental note to find a trustworthy teenager, preferably a girl who could enjoy Claire and Gracie, no matter what they wore. Then Mark could be kept at a safe distance and go back to being the handyman at The Drumcliffe. He would be a secret crush she could safely keep and explore for those times when she felt completely alone. Which, with a new business and three kids, was bound to be rare.

  The doorbell rang. It turned up the dial on the tiny nerves already jumping around in her stomach. Now a full-out gymnastics routine took place, and she could imagine not being able to get a single bite of dinner down.

  Suck it up, buttercup. Regardless of how you’ve rationalized it, you’re on a date!

  Laurel rushed to open the door, but Peter had beaten her to it. Mark and her son stood at the entrance casually talking about surfing, from what she could hear.

  “Hi,” she said, sounding far too breathy to be casual. Gawd! Her cheeks went warm.

  Mark glanced toward her, and she saw that look again, the one he did a terrible job of concealing, where his eyes lit up with interest. She swallowed against her dry throat. Thank goodness Peter was clueless about such looks yet. At least she hoped so.

  “Hi. Ready to eat?” Mark sounded bright, unlike her, relaxed.

  Ready to eat? No! “Absolutely.” Switch to Mom mode, keep things business as usual. “Peter, don’t let the girls stay up past their bedtime, and they can have one cookie each, but no more sugar before bedtime, okay?”

  “Got it, Mom.” He gestured for her to leave
.

  With the tall, good-looking man? What was wrong with her boy?

  Mark smiled wide when she stepped onto the porch. He cocked his head toward the curb, and Grandda sitting behind the steering wheel of a four-seater electric golf cart. What?

  “He’s dropping us off. I figured after dinner we could walk home. It’s not far,” Mark quickly added before she had the chance to say a peep.

  The guy was full of surprises. Even to the point of putting his hand at the small of her back to guide her down the stairs to their awaiting golf cart. It burned through her dress.

  Padraig Delaney offered her a toothy smile, just before she and Mark took the back two seats. “At your service.”

  “This is different,” she said.

  “One of the perks of living in a sleepy beach community after summer. No one cares!” he said, smiling at her. “No speeding, Grandda.” He didn’t bother to move his line of vision.

  The long, appreciative stare made her antsy.

  “Why ruin all my fun?”

  She had to admit she enjoyed his Irish accent, but her smile jolted backward along with her neck when the old man put the pedal to the metal and nearly peeled out from the curb.

  Mark grabbed her hand and squeezed. Another highly disturbing gesture, though one she appreciated considering she felt she’d just entered Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.

  Due to the transportation, they’d taken the back route, alleys and small side streets, so they entered The Grilled Sea through the back door. The restaurant was small but stylish, and they were seated immediately near a window overlooking the ocean. So he’d made reservations. He’d done some planning ahead, another good quality.

  “I’ve walked by this place a dozen times,” he said, “—even looked at the menu posted out front, but’ve never eaten here. My mom keeps her ear to the ground in Sandpiper, and she’s only heard good things. I hope you like it.”

  “I thought you said this was your favorite seafood place?”

  “After tonight, I’m pretty sure it will be. Anyway, I hope you like it.”

  “I’m sure I will.” I’m sitting with a guy with amazing eyes, who’s shaved and brushed his rich dark hair that curls just beneath his earlobes. A guy who smells good, and who’s wearing a heather-gray Henley shirt and jeans that fit just right. Why wouldn’t she like it here?

  After they’d both ordered an appetizer and an adult beverage, she broached the subject. “You said I owed you for yesterday, yet here you are inviting me out to dinner. Shouldn’t I be paying?”

  He stopped midbite of the recently served shrimp cocktail, his brows crunched down. “What sense would that make?”

  “The thing is, it doesn’t make sense this way. You can’t possibly consider me your reward.” Okay, she was fishing for a compliment big-time, but she was curious. Was this a date, or just payback?

  His brows relaxed, a sly smile creased his lips. He was playing along. “Like I said, if I didn’t have you to bring here, I still wouldn’t know if the food was good. You’re doing me a favor.”

  Definitely playing along.

  “You’re that averse to eating alone?”

  He took a drink of his beer. “I usually have two choices. Either I eat quick and alone at the hotel restaurant, whatever special Rita, our seventy-year-old chef, made too much of, or with the entire family on Sunday nights in the pub. I thought it would be nice to eat in a restaurant of my choice with you. That’s all.”

  He looked sincere, though she’d had to drag it out of him. His confession, both sad and sweet, humbled her. She took a prim sip of her wine, as her lashes fluttered. “Well, thanks, then. I’m glad to be of service.” She almost threw in anytime but held back. Why come off desperate? And truth was, soon she wouldn’t have a weekend to herself. Hopefully, for her business’s sake.

  Her tentative smile made his eyes brighten. “So then I guess it’s a good thing you’re still not off the hook,” he said, then gave a half-cocked smile.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You didn’t keep your end of the bargain. You still owe me.”

  What was he getting at?

  He gestured with his fingers near his ear, making a long flip, as in hair.

  She reached for hers, wondering if she had something in it.

  “You were supposed to wear it up.”

  Her gaze widened with understanding. “It wasn’t cooperating tonight.”

  “Next time, then.”

  Another date? “Uh, okay, I’ll try to remember that.”

  They switched to routine conversation after that, though that one threw her for sure. One date she could gloss over, but a second? Her stomach coiled at the thought of a third.

  Dinner was served, and despite her tension, they both enjoyed sea bass and some amazing potato dish, along with locally grown vegetables, as the menu proudly suggested. And fresh sourdough bread that was out of this world. Laurel had to admit, the food was great, with good presentation, but the company looked far, far better.

  She’d decided this meal qualified as a date, even to the point of being chaperoned to The Grilled Sea by his grandfather, who she gathered was a big influence in Mark’s life. She could tell by their interactions they loved each other deeply, and, having missed her two remaining grandparents’ funerals during Alan’s illness, she envied Mark and Padraig for that.

  Though she struggled with opening the door to someone else, while the abiding love for Alan, the tragedy that claimed his life and the pain of losing him was fresh in her mind—wouldn’t it always be?—Laurel made a conscious effort to let go. Alan had wanted her to restart her life in some way by using his second life insurance policy. Surely, he’d thought about what that could mean, starting over, while still a young woman. Though they’d never broached the subject, she was sure he wouldn’t want her to be alone the rest of her life. Not that this meal out with Mark had anything to do with the rest of her life. Oh, why was she even thinking like this when raw and jagged feelings still ruled her nights? She wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on her worst enemy.

  Regardless of the confusion swirling around her mind, she calmed enough to enjoy the delicious food, even indulged in a second glass of wine, which helped the nerves tremendously. Mark insisted they share dessert. Nothing like a carbohydrate coma to relax a girl. Then they took the long way home by walking along the beach. By now she’d happily accepted that Mark could call this whatever he wanted, but she’d consider it their first date. It was probably the wine, but she also looked forward to the next. If she kept the right attitude, they could be a “for now” kind of thing. Something that apparently they both needed, in order to move on with their lives. Definitely the second glass of wine talking.

  She slipped off her pumps as they entered the sand. “Just so you know, I have no intention of swimming tonight.”

  He grinned. “Me, either. Wet and sandy jeans are really uncomfortable.”

  Without giving it a second thought, she put her arm through his, and he made room for her tucked close to his torso. They walked closer to the water, keeping a respectful distance from the damp sand, but still enjoying the crashing of waves and seaweed-scented air.

  “I said it earlier, but you really blew me away when you arranged for Claire and Gracie to play with Anna this morning. They were still talking about it when I was getting ready tonight.”

  “Anna’s had a hard summer, breaking her leg and all, and your girls need to make new friends, right?”

  “Absolutely. Oh, and Keela said Anna’s cast comes off next week.”

  “Great news.”

  She glanced at the sea, beyond the noisy waves, fluorescent whitecaps here and there, yet looking so calm. Power greater than she could fathom, with a whole different world existing below the surface. Feeling suddenly miniscule, it helped to be anchored to Mark. The thought jolted her, but she didn’t let go of him. And something else, a sudden desire, prompted her to say more.

  “You’re very thoughtful, Mark.”r />
  He pulled in his chin, crushing down his brows, in denial.

  “No, really you are. Even though you used me to eat out tonight.”

  He laughed lightly.

  “Your words, not mine.” She smiled challengingly.

  “Well, maybe my thoughtfulness was a little manipulating.”

  “I’m glad.”

  His brows shot up.

  Oh, what the hell, she really wanted to kiss him again. “Yeah, and I’d like to thank you.”

  She stopped walking, turned toward him and reached for his jaw, enjoying the smooth skin beneath her fingertips. His eyes darkened and his lids looked heavy as she moved closer. After quickly wetting her lower lip with the tip of her tongue, she kissed him in a way she hadn’t kissed a man—her husband—since before the twins were born.

  Mark couldn’t believe his good fortune. The first foray into kissing Laurel seemed like child’s play compared with this. With their bodies tight in an embrace, and their mouths locked together, exploring and tasting, tempting and teasing, he was hungry for more and didn’t let his thoughts get in the way. As great as licking her finger had been, this was a whole helluva lot better.

  His hands wandered her back, and he reached below the waist of that sexy blue dress he’d asked her to wear, to feel through the material and knead her hip and bottom, which was firm and sexy like he knew it would be. Her knee edged between his legs, halfway up his inner thigh, as she nipped his lower lip with her teeth.

  Hold on! She was as into him as he was to her, which definitely leveled the playing field. It wasn’t just about his finding the woman sexy as hell. Regardless of where he lived, she obviously found something about him appealing enough to kiss him like she really meant it, and right here and now wasn’t the time to question why.

  Liking the long-term ramifications of taking this next step or not, kissing Laurel Prescott like the world was coming to an end was an extremely excellent thing.