Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Troy

My swim shorts still dripping and a towel tossed over my shoulder, I make my way back up to the house, Nick's five-year-old daughter Shelby hanging off my arm like a monkey. She giggles and squeals as I lift her high in the air, then set her down on the next step before climbing it myself. We make our way up the steps from the dock this way after a refreshing morning of swimming.

Nick follows me up carrying his three-year-old son Noah with Shelby and Noah's life jackets draped over his arms. When we get to the deck, Tina's waiting for us in a sundress, towels at the ready. She laughs indulgently when she sees me making my way up the steps with Shelby in tow. "I hope you're not hurting yourself just to keep my daughter entertained."

Shaking my head, I grin at her, pulling Shelby up and flipping her upside down and making her squeal with glee, the dirty blond braids on either side of her head swinging down to the wooden deck. "Nah. She barely weighs anything! But I know you're feeding her because I've seen her put away as much food as a grown man this week."

Turning Shelby right side up, I set her on the deck. Giggling, she runs for her mom, swaying drunkenly from being flipped around so quickly. Tina catches her with a towel, scooping her up and wrapping the towel around her, Shelby's legs kicking free.

"Awww," Tina coos, "look at my little baby."

"I'm not a baby!" Shelby protests, and Tina laughs.

Reaching them, Nick tugs gently on one of Shelby's braids. "Hate to break it to you, kiddo, but you'll always be our baby. Even when you're grown."

"But I'm five!" Shelby protests, pulling her hand free and holding it up, fingers splayed. "I'm big!

"Too big," Tina groans, setting Shelby down, then putting her hands on her hips. "I can't believe you'll be in kindergarten soon! Who said you could get that big?"

Shelby looks up at her parents and shrugs. "Me!" Then to me, she says, "Come on, Uncle Troy! Chase me!"

I feint like I'm going to grab her, and she squeals, running into the house, looking over her shoulder at me as she's forced to pause to yank open the sliding glass door. I take a few menacing steps closer, and she runs inside, slamming the door behind her with another squeal, careening into the house.

"Careful!" Tina calls after her, pulling the door open and poking her head inside. "No running on the hard floors with wet feet! You'll slip and fall."

"Troy's gonna get me!" Shelby yells back, and Tina shakes her head, giving me a gimlet eye.

"Troy's taking a break from playing right now, Shelby," Nick calls after his daughter. "He'll play with you again soon. We all need to eat something first, though."

"Your phone chimed while you were in the water," Tina mentions, nodding to where my phone sits nestled in my T-shirt on the deck chair along with a bottle of water.

Curious, I pick it up, and I almost rock back on my heels in shock when I see it's from Anna.

I wasn't sure if I'd hear from her again. I'd hoped I would, but she hadn't seemed overly enthusiastic about me giving her my number, even if we'd had a nice conversation. She'd seemed a little put off by the hockey player thing, but it's not like I can change my past, can I?

Still, when she hadn't texted or called last night after she got home, and still nothing this morning when I got up, I'd started to assume she wouldn't reach out.

But she did. At last. And she's invited me to brunch.

Glancing at the time, I realize it's been over thirty minutes since she texted, though. Shit. Am I too late?

Nick lets out a whistle, and Tina smacks him. "Hush," she hisses. "Don't ruin it."

Distracted from typing out my answer, I glance up at them. "What?"

Nick's grinning like the cat that got the canary. "What yourself? Who texted?"

That's when I realize I'm smiling like an idiot. Or like a man who just got a text from a woman he likes. Schooling my features into a scowl, I finish typing my message and hit send.

Hey! I'd love to grab brunch. I would've responded sooner, but I was out for a morning swim and just got your text. If it's too late for brunch, maybe a late lunch? Or dinner?

Nick's cackling, and Dozer wanders out, yawning and scratching his belly. "What's going on, guys?"

"Yeah, Troy," Nick says, sitting on a deck chair with Noah wrapped in a towel on his lap, happily munching on a bowl of goldfish crackers. "What's going on?"

I roll my eyes. "I'm gonna take a shower."

Nick's laughter follows me into the house, along with Dozer's confused, "Huh? What'd I miss?"

I pass a sleepy eyed Jenny in the kitchen, where she's helping herself to some coffee. She and Dozer must've had a late night. There's a reason they get the room on the ground floor to themselves while the rest of us are staying upstairs. That way, there's no risk of them keeping the rest of us up at night, especially the kids.

Nervous energy bubbles inside me as I wait for a response from Anna. Grabbing fresh clothes, I head to the bathroom, relieved when my phone chimes with an alert before I even turn the water on.

Anna

Not too late at all! Want to meet at Cascade Cafe? I hear their stuffed French toast is amazing

You haven't had it before?

Anna

Not yet. But it seems like a good time to try it, don't you think?

Absolutely. Meet you there in 30?

Anna

See you then!

After I google the restaurant, I realize it'll take nearly twenty minutes to get there, so I hop in the shower for a quick scrub. I don't think I've showered so fast since high school when we'd have to get showered after morning practice in under five minutes so we weren't late for class.

Hair still wet, I thunder down the stairs, giving a high five to Shelby sitting at the breakfast bar eating a bowl of cereal and watching a cartoon on an iPad. "Uncle Troy, wait!" she yells.

"Sorry, Shelb. Gotta go. I'm meeting someone."

She pokes out her lower lip in a dramatic pout. "Who?"

"A new friend who wants to meet for brunch."

"What's brunch?" Her brows pull together in comical confusion, but at least she's not pouting.

"What you're having."

She looks down at her cereal. "Invite your friend here, then."

"Yeah, Uncle Troy," Nick chimes in, grinning and setting Noah on a booster seat at the table, his own bowl of cereal in front of him. "Invite your friend here for cereal with the munchkins."

I glare at him, which only makes him laugh. "Maybe another time," I growl. "Gotta go."

"Is this your friend from last night?" he calls after me.

He's lucky his kids are in the room, otherwise I'd be flipping him off. Instead, I just wave, grab my keys, and leave.

I manage to make it to the restaurant on time, but parking is a nightmare. Saturday in a tiny town during their high season? I guess I should've known better …

As it is, by the time I find a parking spot, I'm already late, and I still have to walk about five blocks.

I shoot a quick text to Anna letting her know I had trouble finding parking and will be there soon.

When I get to the restaurant, she's outside sitting on a park bench, nose buried in a book, wearing a pretty floral skirt and a tank top, her legs crossed and one flip-flop dangling from her toes.

Just like last night, she's adorable. When she reaches up to push her rimless glasses up her nose, I'm toast.

I don't know what it is about that gesture, but it does something to me in weird ways. Or maybe it's that combined with her unassuming personality, dry humor that was in evidence last night, and her practical, down-to-earth style that suits her body perfectly. She's the poster model for girl-next-door, what-you-see-is-what-you-get style, and I think it's perfect.

When I stop in front of her, she glances up, then starts in surprise. Plucking a scrap of paper from her book, she uses it to mark her place and tucks the book into her purse. A shy smile claims her features as she stands, clearing her throat, and offering me her hand to shake. "Hi," she practically squeaks.

As I accept her handshake, my grin goes lopsided as I fight to keep it from becoming too large. Her shyness seems at odds with the fact that she invited me out this morning. "Hi," I return.

She gives my hand a quick squeeze before dropping it, hitching her purse on her shoulder, and looking toward the restaurant. "I put my name on the list." Lifting a hand, she gestures at the door, then squints up at me again. "There's a bit of a wait, though. I hope you don't mind?"

"Not at all. We can sit on the bench while we wait."

With a nod, she settles back into her seat, and I sit next to her, watching as she places her purse in her lap, fidgets with the strap, then adjusts its position.

Unable to help myself, I lean in close and lower my voice. "Are you nervous?"

She lets out a high-pitched laugh, quick and staccato, then covers her mouth with her hand like she can't believe she just made that sound. Her brown eyes almost frantic, she stares at me wide-eyed and nods.

Chuckling, I shift, giving her an extra half inch of space, hoping that'll make her feel better. "How come? I thought we had a nice time last night."

Her shoulders slump, and she drops her hand back into her lap, fidgeting with the strap of her purse some more. "Oh, yes. It was lovely. Which is why I asked you out for brunch today. But while it seemed like a great idea in theory …"

My eyebrows arch. "The reality is underwhelming?" I feign pain, clutching at my chest. "Ouch, Anna. That stings."

She giggles, this time sounding more natural and less frenetic, and shakes her head. "No, that's not what I'm saying. The reality is more …" She spreads her hands, looking a little helpless. "Real, I guess. That sounds dumb."

"No," I rush to assure her. "It doesn't. I get what you mean." Because the reality of her, of being here, feels a lot different than the idea for me too.

I don't know if last night was easier because of the alcohol or because rescuing her gave me an in, but today we're sitting in awkward silence, stealing glances at each other and looking away as soon as we inadvertently make eye contact. She was loose and easy to talk to last night, and now she feels locked inside herself, and I don't know how to bridge the gap between us, so I'm withdrawing too.

Clearing my throat, I decide that I'm going to have to be the one to get things rolling. Part of me wants to ask why she invited me to brunch if she can't bring herself to talk to me, but I worry that would embarrass her and make the situation worse.

Casting about, I go with the safest question I can think of. "How's your morning been?"

She blinks up at me. "Umm … good?"

I grin. "You don't sound too certain of that."

Her cheeks turn pink, but she smiles, pushing her glasses up again. "It was good. Just uneventful until …" She spreads her hands in front of her, indicating our presence here. "What about you?"

"Mine was good. My friend Nick, you met him and his wife Tina last night"—she nods, and I continue—"his two kids are here too, plus their nanny, Lisa. Nick and I took the kids for a swim first thing. They're fun, but they're squirrelly and full of energy, so even with extra adults, it's a full-time job wearing them out every day."

"Oh! Wow. That sounds fun."

I nod, and we lapse into silence again. I rub my hands down my thighs, trying to come up with some way to draw her out, but I've got nothing.

Brunch is going to be long and painful if we don't find something to talk about soon. Part of me wants to bail, but that would be unbearably rude. And I also want to see if I can find the woman I met last night buried under the layers of shyness she's giving me this morning.

I liked that woman, and I want to hang out with her again.