Evolving Dreams (New Beginnings Series) (3 page)

“Why? Do my floors need refinishing?” Trace tried to look offended.

“N-n-no . . . I mean . . . I didn’t mean . . .”

He laughed, “I was just kidding! I do appreciate the coffee, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to earn your keep.”

Meg looked at him sheepishly. “I know. It’s not that I’m trying to earn my keep.” She bit her lip, then burst out, “But do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had access to a kitchen? I’m so excited about it I can hardly stand it. I hope you won’t mind if I want to cook.”

“Wow. You just did it again.” He looked surprised. “Who am I to stop you from cooking? Would you be cooking for all of us?”

“Of course. Um, what did I do ‘again?’”

“Nothing. Never mind. So, big day today, huh?”

“Yeah. We have a series of meetings at the Institute. We won’t start the workshops until Wednesday, but we can get some of our ducks in a row starting today. In fact, I’d better go shove Sean out of bed and get ready to go.”

“Yeah, me too. I have to report to base in a little while. Good luck today.”

“Thanks!” Meg headed up the steps toward the back door.

“Hey, Meg!” Trace stopped her in her tracks.

She turned around her beautiful green eyes wide. “Yes?”

He noticed her hair was actually a dark auburn with red and tawny streaks that glowed when the early morning sun hit it. “Are you sure we won’t disturb you watching the game here tonight? Please be honest.”

“Of course not! I’d be more disturbed if you cancel.”

Trace nodded and turned back toward the shore to watch the waves and finish his coffee.

CHAPTER FOUR

Trace hopped out of his Jeep and pulled a half case of beer from the back as he swung around behind it. He walked over to check the mailbox—no bills today, just junk. A miracle. He wondered if he had time to sit in the hot tub before the guys showed up. It was a long day in the classroom working out solutions to every kind of worse case scenario the officers could think up. This wasn’t his favorite kind of training, but it may be the most important kind. If they could try to solve problems before they happened in the field, the easier it was to think on their feet when everything was deteriorating around them in dangerous situations. He would prefer a long day of physical labor than sitting in a classroom all day long, he thought, rubbing his neck as he walked through the back door into the kitchen.

Something smelled good. He looked up and saw Meg, in bare feet, jeans and a long-sleeved black t-shirt with her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She was standing by the stove stirring something in a pot.

“Hey! I wasn’t sure when you’d be home. We got out of our planning sessions early, so I thought I’d make a pot of chili. Hope you guys like chili—or chili dogs. I’ve got hotdogs too.”

Trace set the beer on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. “Wow! You made chili? You didn’t have to do that. We usually order pizza when everyone gets here.”

“You did say I could cook, and this was so much fun. It’ll freeze, though, if you have your heart set on pizza.”

“Are you kidding? I’m sick to death of pizza. Thank you. Well, I think I’ll go take a hot shower. The guys’ll be here in about an hour, I guess.”

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Meg walked into the living
room to see the three men sprawled out on the furniture in front of the television. They each held heaping plates of chili dogs and corn chips on their stomachs. They seemed so engrossed in the game she hated to intrude. She glanced at the screen and it seemed like there was nothing happening—just a bunch of guys standing around waiting for something. About that time a man dressed in black and white started making arm gestures and said something that made no sense to Meg. The whole living room erupted.

“Are you
kidding
me?” Charley shouted.

“What
?!” Sonny looked over at Charley in disbelief.

“Come on, Charley! His foot was in, but there’s no way he had control of that ball,” Trace piped in.

“You guys are as blind as that official is,” Charley said as he ducked the pillow Sonny chucked at him.

Meg just shook her head.

Trace stood up. “Do you guys need another beer?”

They both sort of grunted, which must have
meant “yes” because Trace walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed three bottles.

“Excuse me, Trace . . . I noticed you have wireless Internet. Do you mind if I use it?” Meg asked as she held up her laptop.

Trace looked startled for a moment as if he’d forgotten she was there. “Oh, sure. Go ahead.”

She sat down at the small dining table at the back of the living room. She’d heard about boys and their sports but hadn’t had much experience witnessing it first hand—maybe a couple of times at happy hour
in a sports bar. Meg opened her laptop and logged onto the Internet to check her email.

Her sister had sent new photos of her four-year-old niece, Aubri, at a petting zoo. She was growing up so fast and Meg wished she were able to spend more time with her. Her sister, Maura, would be due to deliver Aubri’s new baby brother in a couple of months. Maybe Meg could take some time off and be there for the birth to help out with Aubri for a few weeks while Maura recovered. Maura’s husband, Keith, would probably appreciate that too. It would be nice to be b
ack in her hometown in Illinois—spend some time with her parents.

Meg replied to Maura’s email as well as one from her mother. Her parents were getting ready to leave on a
week-long cruise and the girls had been helping their mom plan what to pack for her vacation wardrobe. It would have been more fun to do it in person, but Meg enjoyed being included long distance anyway. She inherited all of her girly-girl ways from her mom and her older sister. She sure didn’t get to indulge them too much hanging around with Sean all the time.

A huge cheer went up, both from the crowd on TV and from the guys in the living room. About that time she heard her cell phone’s ring-tone—
Just Like Heaven
by the Cure. She looked guiltily at the guys as she grabbed for it but it didn’t seem to disturb them. Meg glanced at the screen and stepped out onto the deck. “Hey, Monte!”

Monte Perez was an old friend from NYU and another talented dancer. He and his wife, Tatiana, were living and working in Los Angeles. “Are you in San Diego?”

“Yep. We got in last night. It’s such a relief to have that tour wrapped up.”

“When are we going to meet up? Are you going to be able to get together one of these weekends? ‘Tiana’s hoping you’ll
come up and stay with us for a couple of days. Or we could come down there. I’ve always wanted to go to SeaWorld.”

Meg laughed. Monte had a great childlike spirit and was fun to be around. “We’re going to nail down our schedule tomorrow and I’ll let you know which weekend will work out for me—probably sooner rather than later. The showcase rehearsals are going to get more intense the closer we get to the performance.”

“Can’t wait to see you, babe. We’re so glad you’re close by. How’re things going with Sean?”

“Fine. He’s already hooked up with a group of teaching assistants and is out partying with them.”

“Wow . . . is that a record?”

“No. He finds ‘em pretty quick. Me . . . I’m enjoying a quiet evening ‘at home.’”

Meg heard a soft accented voice, “Oh, that’s right. How are things at his brother’s house—awkward?”

“Tatiana! So great to hear your voice.” She should have figured Monte’s wife would be on the extension. “Things here are much less awkward than I thought. Trace is great—very welcoming. And the house is great. It’s right on the beach.”

“Enough about the house. I want to hear more about this Trace McKenna.”

“Oh, come on. Can’t you girls save the girl talk ‘til I’m off the phone?” Monte groaned.

Tatiana and Meg laughed. “Tell you what, Meg—just send me a long newsy email and fill me in. We won’t torture Monte with the important stuff.”

The three old friends chatted a few minutes more and Meg promised to contact them with her schedule in the next couple of days, then they said their goodbyes.

As she came through the deck doors back into the house Trace was standing at the sink rinsing the guys’ dishes. “There you are. Everything okay? We can get kind of loud, I guess.”

“I was just out on the deck on my cell. I didn’t want to disturb your game. Is it over?”

“No . . . halftime. It’s getting a little chilly out there, isn’t it?”

“A little, but I grew up near Chicago. I can take it.
My friends, Monte and Tatiana, called. They’re living in Los Angeles and we’re trying to set up a time to get together while I’m out here on the west coast. It’ll be fun. I really miss them.”

“That’s great . . .” Trace began.

“Yo! McKenna! Game’s back on,” Sonny called.

Trace looked at her apologetically. “Sorry. Gotta go when the game comes back on.”

Meg rolled her eyes and laughed as he vaulted over the arm of the sofa.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

The game was over and the guys had just left. Trace threw the beer bottles into the recycling bin and turned around to finish up the dishes as Meg walked in. “I thought you might have gone on to bed.”

“No, I was just making some notes on some choreography I’ve been playing around with. How was the game?”

“Good. Not many surprises, though. Everyone knew the Steelers would pull off the win and they did.”

Meg smiled up at him. “Still fun to watch though, huh?”

She picked up the pot of leftover chili. “You know, this stuff freezes well. Do you want to keep some out for leftovers and freeze the rest? It would be an easy dinner for you to fix after a rough day.”

“Sure. But I can put that stuff away and clean up here.”

“That’s okay. It won’t take us long to clean it up together.”

They worked quietly side-by-side for a while. Trace broke the silence. “I really do appreciate your cooking for us. It was great.”

“I had fun. I’m taking you up on your offer to use your kitchen,” she laughed.

“Did
you
eat?”

“Oh, yeah. I had a bowl of chili with grated cheese and Fritos. Just the way I like it.”

“Where is Sean, by the way? I would have thought he would be here.”

Meg finished wiping down the countertops. “Sean makes friends fast. He scoped out a curvy blonde TA—teaching assistant—and went out for drinks with her and her friends.”

Trace’s eyebrow rose. “Really?”

“Yeah. He’s the party guy and I’m the stick-in-the-mud, I guess. We’re creatively compatible, but we like to go our own ways socially. Hence the separate rental cars.”

“Aha.”

“He’ll come home eventually. Well . . . I think that’s it,” Meg said as she glanced around the kitchen. “I’m off to bed.”

“Me, too. Thanks again. Good night.”

CHAPTER FIVE

The next morning Trace was
already showered and dressed in his service uniform and ready to start the day. After he stopped in the kitchen for a cup of coffee he stepped out onto the deck to sit for a while and noticed Meg was already there.

He sat down in the Adirondack chair next to hers. “Hi. What’re you up to?”

She set a book aside. “Just enjoying the morning air and reading my morning devotional.”

“Sorry to interrupt.”

“No, I was just finishing up. No interruption. You’re looking all spiffy and business-like this morning. Early start today?”

“Just a full day. We have a training exercise coming up this weekend with a group of FBI counterterrorism agents. Got a lot of preparation beforehand. We’re flying up to the Cascades on Friday. I should be back on Sunday night.” He looked a little chagrined. “Probably should have let you know that before.”

“Oh. Well, we’ll be fine here.”

“I’m sure you will. Just make yourself at home.”

Meg laughed. “You probably noticed I already have.”

“I did,” he grinned. “I know you found the grocery store. I don’t think I’ve ever seen yogurt in my refrigerator before. Or peppermint tea in the cabinet.” He lifted her cup and sniffed. “Smells good. You don’t drink coffee, but you make it?”

“No, I do. Tea just sounded better to me this morning.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Meg jumped up and said, “That looks like a good one!” She kicked off her slippers and jogged toward the water’s edge in her bare feet. She bent over to pick something up and walked back to the deck.

“See?” she asked holding up a seashell.

“Yeah . . . it’s a seashell. I see a lot of those around here.”

“No. It’s a
perfect
shell.”

“It’s just a clam shell.” Trace thought she had gone a little
nuts. It really was nothing special.