Evolving Dreams (New Beginnings Series) (11 page)

Monte threw his arm around her shoulders and spoke into her ear. “You know you’re never going to win us over on this. Just relax and save your breath. We’ll go over to that restaurant. I’m guessing we can find a salad for you.”

She grumbled under her breath. “Well, you guys can’t sit with me while you’re eating those things. It’ll ruin my appetite.”

They sat down in the restaurant and finished their lunch. Meg dug into her small backpack and found a photo that had been taken of her swimming with the dolphins earlier that day. “Look, Trace!”

“Oh, man! You already did the dolphins? I missed it?”

Meg looked stricken. “Oh, did you want to do that? I’m sorry! We can go back.”

“I’m just kidding! Here let me see that.” He took the photo from her. In it she was smiling so big and glowing so bright that it took his breath away. He smiled at her. “Wish I could have seen it.”

She took the photo back and put it carefully away. “Tatiana has a video. Maybe you can see that sometime.” But Trace knew it wouldn’t be the same as experiencing it with her.

“You swim out in the ocean a lot, right, Trace?” asked Tatiana. “For training? You probably swim with dolphins and whales all the time.”

“Not so much. We’re usually too busy trying to survive. No time to frolic with the wildlife.”

Monte jumped up after they had all finished eating. “Let’s go to the Wild Arctic Interaction. Then we don’t want to miss Shamu—but we can do that on our way out of the park.”

Meg grinned fondly at him. “How old are you? Twelve?”

He winked at her. “Today I am.” He linked arms with her and Tatiana and they trooped out the door into the park. Meg reached back and grabbed Trace’s hand to pull him up beside her.

By four o’clock they were headed across the parking lot. Everyone had seen most everything they wanted to see, but Monte and Tatiana had to get on the road and head back to LA before it got too late. After they had retrieved Meg’s bag from Monte’s car everyone hugged goodbye and Monte and Tatiana had promised to come back for the big SDDI Showcase in a few weeks. They pulled out of their parking space and headed for the exit as Trace and Meg hopped aboard a passing tram headed toward his parking section.

They decided to stop for an early dinner on the way back to Trace’s house. “I know this great little place if you don’t mind slumming.”

“Are you kidding? I have seal snot and whale spit all over me. Where else are we
gonna go? I was thinking we should go through a drive-thru somewhere.”

“No, this’ll be fun.”

She teased him, “I trust you with my life.”

After a while he pulled into a crushed shell parking area beside a good-sized shack on the beach.
“Hideaway”
was painted crudely over the door. It looked like a dive, but Meg gamely jumped out of the Jeep after he parked. There were only a couple of other cars there.

“It’s still pretty early for this place. It’ll be jumpin’ later, though,” he said as he took her hand.

He pulled the door open for her and they entered a dimly lit room. It took a few moments for their eyes to adjust after coming in from the late afternoon sunshine outside. Meg heard Robert Plant and Alison Krauss singing
Rich Woman
over the speakers as Trace led her to a small beat up table pushed up against the wall with two mismatched rustic wooden chairs on either side of it. As he held one of the chairs out for her, the waitress behind the bar called out, “What can I get you to drink, sugar?”

Meg looked up at Trace. “I think she’s talking to you,” she said drily.

“What do you want? Feel like a beer?” he asked her.

“No. Too much sun today.” She looked toward the bar. “Ooh . . . they have sweet tea. That sounds good.”

Trace called over to where the waitress stood beside the bartender. “A bottle of Corona and a sweet tea.”

“Comin’ up.”

Trace turned back to Meg. “Okay, here’s the plan. They have awesome steamed crab here—really fresh, but really messy. Are you game?”

“I am. But I do want to wash up before I dig in. Excuse me?”

“Of course.”

Meg stood up and looked around for the ladies’ room. The waitress, in a
tight cropped t-shirt with “Sissy” airbrushed across the chest and cutoff shorts that were almost as tight, walked toward her with their drinks. “Over that way, hon, down the hallway on the right.” Meg headed that direction as Sissy continued on toward their table. She could hear Trace’s low voice as he spoke and Sissy’s low laugh.

When she came back to the table someone had spread newspaper across it. She picked up her tea and took a big swig. “Slow down there, slugger. Pace yourself.” Trace joked.

“Very funny,” she replied. “What a great day! I’m so glad you were able to meet us.”

“Did you and your friends stay up too late catching up last night?” he asked.

“Probably. It was fun, though.”

“Do I want to know what you talked about?”

“I’m sure you
know
what we talked about. Are you fishing for information?”

“Of course. Just tell me what questions Tatiana asked and then tell me how you answered,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “But you have to do one thing for me. When you repeat her questions you have to ask them in her sexy Russian accent.”

Meg laughed, “I’m not doing any of that. You can’t have the questions
or
the answers. Use your imagination.”

“Okay . . . it’s probably better I don’t know.”

Sissy arrived with a bucket full of steamed crab and dumped them on the newspaper in the center of the table, then plopped a large pile of thick paper napkins on the corner of the table. “Refills?”

“I’ll take another Corona. Meg more tea?”

Meg nodded and gaped at the pile of crab in front of her. Sissy returned in just a couple of minutes with their drinks and a small platter of corn on the cob. “Anything else I can get ya?”

“No, thanks,” Trace replied and he and Meg both dug in with their small hammers and shell cracking utensils.

There wasn’t much talking as they ate and after a while Meg leaned back in her chair resting her hands on her stomach. “Oh my gosh! I don’t usually like to work that hard for my food,” she said as she reached over to toy with her shell cracker. “But . . .
so
good!”

“I know . . . I’ve only been here a couple of times, but I love it.” He was still working at digging the meat out of a crab leg shell with great concentration.

Meg looked around and noticed the place had gone from empty to about half full. The bluesy rock music continued to play. Sissy caught her eye and called, “I’ll bring over more drinks in a minute.”

Trace called back, “Sweet tea for me this time, Sissy.”

Sissy finished serving the drinks at another table and nodded toward Trace.

Meg and Trace chatted more about their visit with her friends while he finished his dinner. “So, Trace, did you kill lots of imaginary terrorists at the range this morning? I forgot to ask.”

He laughed, “No, I was instructing today, not shooting.”

“Oh,” she laughed along with him. She looked around again as he wiped his hands and face with a wet towel. “I really like this place. The music is really great.”

“You like this music?”

“Of course! I’m just waiting for you to ask me to dance.” She gestured toward the tiny dance floor at the back of the room.

“Oh no . . . there’s no way I’m brave enough to dance with you.” Just then The Allman Brothers Band’s
Melissa
gave way to Stevie Ray Vaughn’s
Texas Flood
.

“What? You think I’m going to ‘go rogue’ and just start leaping and dancing circles around you? What do you take me for?” Meg laughed.

“Fine. Come on then.” He stood up and pulled her by the hand to the dance floor where they joined a few other couples.

He pulled her close, held her hand flat over his chest with his and started to move. It was like he was part of the music and a piece of her. “Wow, Trace. You
do
have some moves. You
are
your mother’s son.”

He stopped and dropped her hand. “Don’t patronize me,” he said in an offended voice. But then Meg noticed his eyes were twinkling at her, so she laughed.

They finished the dance and when the song ended neither immediately stepped back. As they stood there it seemed like time stopped, but then Trace cleared his throat and stepped away. He held on to her hand as they weaved in and out through the tables to reach their own. He dropped money on the table with a nice tip for Sissy, then picked up Meg’s hand again as they left the Hideaway.

Trace carried her bag into her room for her when they got home, kissed her chastely good night and went to his room. After showering, Meg went to bed early.
Having played so hard all day and being up so late the night before, she drifted off quickly. But Trace cleaned up, then read some training manuals in bed and still had trouble sleeping. His mind was full of Meg.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Meg was just dropping a
teabag into her mug when she sensed Trace coming around the corner into the living room. She looked over her shoulder at him. “Hey, I thought you’d be sleeping in this morning.”

“Right back at you,” He got a good look at her after he finished rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Whoa! What are you all dressed up for this morning?”

She looked down at her wide-legged chocolate colored slacks and burnt orange v-necked sweater—with long sleeves—that skimmed over her hips. She had added a wide brown leather belt that slung low on her hips as well. “This old thing?” She walked from the kitchen toward the couch in the living room stopping to pick up brown peep-toed stilettos from a nearby bar stool. “I’m just getting ready to leave for church. I’m going back to Bayside Christian.” She sat down, took a sip of tea and leaned over to put her shoes on.

“Oh yeah? When are you leaving?”

“I have about thirty minutes,” she said, glancing at her watch.

“Do you want company? It wouldn’t take me long to get dressed.”

“Really? You want to come?” Her eyes lit up.

“Sure, if you don’t mind my tagging along.”

They agreed to take separate cars because Meg had planned to meet Sean for lunch after church to go over some lesson plans and iron out a few showcase details.

Meg had been right about Bayside Christian. Trace was as impressed as she had been. They got there early enough to meet a couple—about their same ages—sitting in front of them who had been members there since they were both in college. They chatted together until the service began and, afterwards, they invited Meg and Trace to their Bible study class. Meg graciously, and regretfully, thanked them and explained her previous obligations. She mentioned that she might like to attend with them the following week.

After saying their goodbyes in the parking lot Meg headed off to meet Sean. Trace stopped by the grocery store on the way home. He decided to surprise Meg by grilling out—pork steaks and all the fixings—for dinner.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

By the time Meg pulled into the driveway it was two o’clock. She noticed a small pickup truck parked in front of the house. When she got inside she heard the telltale sounds of Sunday afternoon football and saw Sonny sprawled out on the floor in front of the TV with Trace stretched out on the couch, his feet propped on the coffee table in front of him.

When Sonny saw her out of the corner of his eye, he jumped up. “Okay . . . time for me to get going.” He looked over at Meg. “Hey, Meg! How ya doin’? I was just keeping McKenna here company for a while.”

Meg laughed, “Don’t leave on my account. Do you have somewhere you need to be?” She walked over to the refrigerator for a can of Diet Coke. She looked over at Trace with a raised eyebrow. “There’re pork steaks marinating in here.”

Trace said, “I thought I’d grill out. I’ve got veggies to put on the grill too. Okay?”

“That sounds great.” She shifted her attention back to Sonny as she leaned over to pull off her shoes. “Hear that, Sonny? Trace is grilling. Surely you’ll stay for dinner.”

“Well . . .” he looked over at Trace. “I’m sure you guys . . . You don’t want someone else horning in on . . .”

Trace hurled a throw pillow at Sonny’s head. “Come on, Sonny. Of course you’re welcome to stay. Stop hemming and hawing already.”

Meg took her soda and shoes and walked across the living room toward her room. “I’m going to change my clothes. Be right back.”

Just as she started to shut her door she heard Sonny whisper, “Dude, really . . . I should go . . . Don’t you want me to go? I mean, she just asked me to stay to be nice, right?”

“Keep it up, buddy, and I’m going let you leave.” He laughed. “I’m sure she wants you to stay. And I want you to stay. So stay.”

Sonny opened his mouth to speak again, but before he got a word out, another pillow hit him square in the face. So he just plopped back down on the floor to watch football. “So, McKenna . . . what time are you putting those pork steaks on the grill?”