Chapter 10

Dec

"Shit," I muttered, slamming on my brakes.

Kenna grabbed the handle above the window on the passenger side. A truck of undetermined color had cut us off, its back bumper held together by duct tape—yes, really—barely missing the front of mine. Apparently he hadn't liked me going the speed limit and decided to pass us on the two-lane causeway through Sunshine Key.

"Is that…is that a gator head?" Kenna squinted her eyes, her grip on the handle easing as I made more room between us and the idiot driver in front of us. What looked like a real-life gator head was perched on top of the cab of the truck, its jaws open. Add in the tailpipe that was wrapped around the bed of the truck and puffing out plumes of black smoke, and Kenna was officially appalled. "What the Florida is that thing?"

I chuckled, the sound deep and rusty. "That is a typical Florida driver."

Kenna snorted. "You can say that again. I'm beginning to think the salt life is actually crying tears over the way y'all drive."

I shot her a look before taking the next left to the boat club. "Did you just use your first y'all?"

"Maybe." She bit back a grin, looking ridiculously pretty in another tacky tourist shirt. "Everyone says Californians can't drive, but this is next-level ridiculous."

"You'll get used to it." I pulled into a spot in front of the rental office. "You'll go back to California and feel like there's no personality on the roads."

Kenna shook her head at the idea, getting out of the truck and heading inside. Honestly, I couldn't really envision her going back to California right now. She clearly hadn't accepted living in Florida quite yet, but the idea of her not living next door to me any longer didn't sit well. Somehow I'd gotten used to the spitfire.

"Good morning, Irene!" Kenna called out, placing a potted plant on the filing cabinet in the corner of the office.

Irene didn't even look up from her cell phone as she sipped the largest cup of Wawa iced coffee I'd ever seen. She grunted, which was her customary version of hello anytime before noon. After that magical hour, she progressed to using actual words.

"I think we better skip the boating today," I drawled, leaning against Irene's desk just because I knew it would piss her off. "My clothes are just now drying out."

"Hardy har," Kenna answered. "I actually wanted to go over the books today anyway. Maybe talk to whomever runs the Captain's social media?"

Irene's head snapped up, her owlish eyes trained on Kenna. "Books? Social media?"

"Yeah. You know, the back end of the business. I was thinking I'd leave the actual boating to Dec and I'd get my hands on the marketing and financials. Where I'm a better fit."

Irene stood up so fast her ancient desk chair shot out from under her and hit the wall. "I'm going to take a nap. Here's the computer. Password for everything is captain. Don't forget the capital C." She shuffled off, her coffee clutched in her hands and her bright pink sandals slapping against the tile floor.

Kenna's mouth dropped open, watching her go. I tried my best to hold back a laugh. "Can you tell Maeve and Irene were friends?"

Kenna came over and rescued the office chair, rolling it back to the desk before gingerly sitting in it. "I don't think Irene likes me."

I stood up. "It's not so much about you specifically. She just doesn't like people in general."

"Then how'd she and Aunt Maeve become friends?" The computer screen flashed to life.

"It was either become friends or kill each other." I shrugged and walked to the back door. "I'm off to inspect the boats and see what kind of maintenance we might need. My best friend works on boats, so I'm hoping we can get a good deal on anything that needs to be done. Maeve wasn't known for keeping up with maintenance."

Kenna lifted her gaze from the computer screen. "My green Formica countertops were the first clue."

I shot her a wink and exited, shocked that I still knew how to use those muscles. I didn't wink at women anymore. That was the old Dec. And the fact that I was blurring the lines between then and now was enough to have me dead sober as I looked for Johnny. Didn't matter how pretty Kenna was or the way her sense of humor was coming to life. I didn't have room for a flirtation.

My shirt was soaked by the time I made it back to the rental office. The seawater soaking of yesterday would have been better than this sweat. Kenna grimaced when I walked inside, sighing at the air-conditioned air hitting my skin.

"What happened to you?"

I grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge behind Irene's desk and sank into a chair in the corner of the room. "Florida happened."

"Okay, so get this." Kenna scrolled and clicked before pointing at the computer screen. "This place is profitable."

"I figured it was. Maeve wouldn't have kept it going if it wasn't."

Kenna's new hair flew around her shoulders as she shook her head. "No, what I mean is, they haven't done a lick of marketing and it's already profitable. Can you imagine once I start some social accounts and put together an ad campaign?"

Kenna rambled on, the marketing terms lost on me. The more she talked, the more she got animated. Pink stained her cheeks, not from heat, but from excitement. Her hands flew in the air, dainty digits with neat, trimmed nails and not a single ring adorning her fingers.

"Okay, you lost me. Ready to go?" I'd cut her off. Not at all nicely. I told myself it was because her rambling was boring, but really my irritation was because I found her even more attractive when she was lit up from the inside. I'd seen her crying, angry, and despondent. Her beauty then was nothing compared to this version of her.

And I needed her to stop. Right fucking now.

"Uh, sure. Let me just print a few things and then I'll be ready." She hit a few buttons and I heard the printer below the desk kick into gear. "You know, if things go well, we might be able to expand. Add a few more boats. Maybe another location. I mean, the sky's the limit, right?"

I stood, throwing away my empty water bottle and glaring at Kenna's backside as she stooped to get the printed pages. Expand? More boats? Hell, no. That would mean more tourists. More boats out on the water fighting for the best fishing spots. More people who would invade my sleepy small town.

And learn my secret.

I left Kenna to her plans for taking over the world one boat rental at a time to go see Pops. As a fifty percent owner of Captain's Boat Club, there was nothing Kenna could do without my approval, so I wasn't too worried she'd wreck my quiet town quite yet.

Pops's senior community was located at the highest point of the key. Fifteen feet above sea level wasn't much to brag about, but in case of flooding from a hurricane, it was better than nothing. Besides, he enjoyed sitting out on his screened-in porch and watching the golfers as they went by in their carts.

"Who wants ice cream?" I hollered, letting myself into his condominium with the key he'd given me when we moved him in. When he didn't respond, I looked out at the back porch.

He was sitting in his no-gravity chair, looking out at the golf course. From how still he was, he could have been asleep. I put the ice cream in the freezer and went outside. At the sound of the glass slider, he turned in my direction, but he hadn't been asleep. He looked sad.

"Pops? Is everything okay?" Alarm stole through me. I'd spent quite a few days and nights with him when he'd been in the hospital ten years ago. I wouldn't wish that nightmare of anxiety on anyone. I was always on edge about a relapse or a repeat.

"I'm okay, son," he said on a sigh that sounded anything but okay. "Just thinking."

I sat on the more uncomfortable chair next to him. "Oh no, this sounds like trouble. I already told you going up to Tampa for Gasparilla is out of the question."

Pops cracked a smile at my mention of the yearly pirate festival. "But with my peg leg, I'd be the best damn pirate on the East Coast."

"What's actually got you troubled?" I said after a few minutes of us just staring out at the expanse of green lawn. Not much to see this time of year. No one liked to golf eighteen holes in a sauna.

"You know what today is?"

I wracked my brain and came up empty.

"It's my wedding anniversary to your mom." Pops sighed, the sound laced with years of grieving over his true love.

I nudged his good knee with mine. "Think she'd still be married to you?"

Mom had passed away when I was a kid, but Pops had kept her memory alive with stories and pictures he was always quick to pull out. I hadn't gotten her red hair, but he told me my eyes were her spitting image. My vague memories of Mom didn't include those tiny details. Just a feeling of warmth, safety, home.

Pops guffawed like I knew he would. "She'd have no choice. I'd never let her go. I'd get on my good knee and beg if I had to."

I stood. "How about I dish us up some ice cream and then you can show me your wedding photos?" I'd seen them so many times I knew the order of each photo in the album, but Pops always seemed happier after looking at them. "And let's go inside where there's air-conditioning. I'm sweating out here."

Pops shifted the leg portion of the chair down and pushed to standing. I wanted to reach down and help him, but he didn't like when I did that. Said he was too young to need any help just getting out of a chair. He'd be right except for the fact that he was missing one leg from the knee down.

"Sounds good, son. But none of that low-fat shit."

I snorted, opening the door. "I wouldn't dare. I still have nightmares about you throwing your bowl at my head when I tried that before."

Pops followed me inside and had a seat at the tiny table between the kitchen and the living room. I'd tried to move him into a bigger house, but he said he didn't want to feel lonely with all that square footage and just him.

"I seem to recall you having panties thrown at your head back in your heyday, superstar."

I shook my head, getting the bowls out of the cupboard and scooping up chocolate for me and moose track for Pops. "Those days are long gone. Now it's just Irene who flirts with me."

"Goddamn Irene. She's as bad as Maeve. May she rest in peace." Pops shimmied his shoulders when I set the bowl in front of him. The man loved his ice cream. "You know, son, I wish you'd find a wife."

I stumbled over the edge of the rug beneath his table. Pulling the chair out across from him, I had a seat. "What? Where is this coming from?"

"I didn't have her for long, but the time I did have with your mom was worth it. She gave me you and she opened my heart. That kind of love changes a person. You should find true love too."

I swallowed the spoonful of chocolate that had turned to glue at the mention of getting married. "Oh sure, Pops. I'll just go out to Winn Dixie and pick up true love."

Pops smiled around a huge bite of his ice cream. "Don't be silly. At least go to Publix."

I snorted. "Will I find Ms. Perfect in line for a PubSub?"

"You never know. If she likes sausage, that's a good sign."

The laughter was automatic. Pops kept eating and I hoped he'd drop the subject. I'd have to google becoming more sentimental. Was that a side effect of dementia?

"I know you don't take me seriously," Pops said, pushing away his empty bowl. "But I stand by what I said. You should experience true love at least once in your life, Dec. You deserve to know what it feels like. How it changes you. Makes you a better man."

"Pops." I put my hand on his. "I know what love feels like. I love you. I love my life here in Florida. I have money. No stress. Hell, I used to have adoring fans who wrote me creepy letters about loving me. I've felt love, believe me."

Pops stood up and headed back to the porch. "Not the same and you know it." And then he was outside, back to his no-gravity chair and staring out at the grass.

I'd have to pull out the big guns tonight. Not only would we look through every photo album on his bookshelf, I'd show him the new Ford truck design they'd released for next year. The interior features list alone would perk him up. I kept threatening to buy him one and he kept telling me to get one for myself and he'd just ride shotgun. Which was fine by me. I'd take my father anywhere. He just had to say the word.

Because contrary to what he thought, I'd experienced true love.

The love of a father and a son.

And it was good enough for me.

Me: Boat club again tomorrow?

Kenna: Sorry, no. I have plans.

Me: Buying that Ferrari after all, huh?

Kenna: Nah. I'm thinking I'd like a truck with a gator head…

Me: Next thing I know you'll be wearing a Florida Man shirt.

Kenna: I think Salt Life might be more applicable.