Nantucket Romance 3-in-1 Bundle (95 page)
As hard as she’d tried to hang on to him, he was slipping away. The thought brought a tidal wave of fear. She poised her fingers over the keys and started typing.
I’m feeling better. It was probably something I ate for dinner—
She paused. Maybe it would be better if he thought it was a stomach virus. That would require a few days to recover. Three days of keeping him and Arielle apart. She deleted everything she’d typed.
I’m still feeling a little nauseated. I’m sure I’m fine. Probably just a stomach virus or something.
She sent the message, then tapped her fingers on the desk, waiting. Behind her, Arielle snored lightly on the couch. She’d thank Sabrina for buying her time. Of course, for all she knew, the effects of the steak might actually last a few days. She hoped not, for Arielle’s sake.
After several minutes, she gave up hoping for a reply from Tucker. He must’ve gone to bed.
She changed into her pajamas and curled under the quilt, tucking the cover under her chin. If they could survive the next two weeks, everything could return to normal. Arielle would be gone, and she and Tucker could continue writing. She could revert to sneaking glances at the café while he sipped his coffee. That was all she wanted.
But if that were all she wanted, Sabrina wondered why the thought of returning to normal carved a hollow spot in the center of her chest.
Laughter was the first thing Sabrina heard when she opened her apartment door. She closed the door, tossed her bag on the desk, and followed the sound of Arielle’s soft voice. She found her cousin on the balcony, the phone cradled between her cheek and shoulder.
“That’s so true,” she was saying. “Oh, hi, Sabrina.” She pulled her bare feet from the railing. “Sabrina’s home,” she said into the phone. “Okay. All right.” Another chuckle.
Sabrina went to the kitchen and pulled the pitcher of iced tea from the fridge. She wondered who Arielle was talking to. It could be Aunt Bev, or Uncle Everett, or Jaylee. But Sabrina had a sinking feeling it wasn’t any of them. Through the mesh screen, she heard Arielle laugh again.
Sabrina poured a glass of tea and took a long drink. They’d been busy at the café. Evan had called in sick and they hadn’t found a replacement, so she’d bussed her own tables.
She heard the beep of the phone being turned off, then the grinding slide of the screen door.
Arielle stopped inside the door, all signs of laughter gone. “You told him I’m sick?”
Sabrina tried to decipher the source of her cousin’s anger. “You were puking at his house last night.”
“I feel better today. I told you this morning.”
“You said you still felt nauseous.”
“I said I felt a
tad
nauseous, but much better.”
What in the world?
Her cousin set the phone in the cradle and passed her on the way to the fridge.
“He has tickets to the community theater tonight,” Arielle said.
“And . . . ?”
Arielle tossed her a look. “And now I can’t go because he thinks I’m sick. He said I needed to stay home and rest.”
“I thought you’d be relieved to avoid a few dates. I thought you’d be pleased.”
Arielle surveyed the contents of the fridge.
Cold air washed over Sabrina, raising gooseflesh. Clearly Arielle was not pleased about missing her date. Clearly Arielle wanted to be with Tucker. Sabrina tamped down the fear that perched on the stoop of her heart.
Arielle pulled out a bottle of organic juice and shut the door. “What’s done is done, I guess.” She passed Sabrina and called over her shoulder, “Oh, I told Tucker you’d accompany him to the theater tonight.”
She
what
? Sabrina followed Arielle to the living room, where her cousin had plopped on the sofa and flipped on the TV.
“You told Tucker
I’d
go with him?”
Arielle took a swig of her juice, taking her time, then set it on the end table and smiled sweetly. “I thought you’d be pleased.”
Sabrina’s own words came back to haunt her, and Arielle seemed to enjoy the fact. “Why can’t he just skip the dumb play?”
“His secretary has one of the lead roles, and this is the last night it’s showing.”
So what? Why did that require him to drag Sabrina along? Her heart was performing a traitorous show of its own. “Can’t he go alone?”
“He has two tickets.”
“Well, can’t he find someone else?” Her voice crescendoed.
Arielle changed the channel, surfing with a calmness that made Sabrina want to throttle her.
“I told him you loved the theater,” she said. “And there’s no need for his money to go to waste. He’s already underwriting the Nantucket Light Keepers,” Arielle so kindly reminded her.
Soundkeepers.
Sabrina clenched her teeth. That was beside the point. Arielle knew how hard it was for her to be with Tucker. Then again, it was hard to see Arielle with Tucker too. Which was worse? Waiting for Arielle to return from her date or suffering through it herself?
Come on, Sabrina. Suffering?
Okay, so she enjoyed being with Tucker. That was the problem.
“He’s picking you up at five.”
“Five?”
The play couldn’t start until seven or eight at least.
“You’re going to supper first.”
“Supper?”
“Are you going to repeat everything I say? He already had reservations.”
Oh, sure, reservations. That made all the sense in the world. Sabrina glared at Arielle, but her cousin seemed oblivious to her distress.
Finally, Sabrina wandered toward her bedroom, seeing her own dazed look in the oval mirror Arielle had hung in the hall. That thing was so coming down.
She was going on a date with Tucker.
You are going on a date with Tucker.
It’s not a real date. He doesn’t even want to be with you. You’re a substitute
for Arielle. Keep that in mind.
If she remembered that, she’d be fine. The only question was, could she make herself remember it when she was staring into Tucker’s eyes across a candlelit table?
Sweetpea: Little-known fact about me: I haven’t worn heels since prom.
Harbormaster: Little-known fact about me: I haven’t worn a suit since I dropped out of law school. Little-known fact number two: I have a special appreciation for people who wear choking neckties.
Le Languedoc was a restaurant and inn located downtown on Broad Street. The building featured cedar shake shingles, white trim, and blue shutters that matched the awning outside.
Sabrina fidgeted with the wispy strings of her belt as Tucker pulled into a parallel parking space. She pressed her lips together, unaccustomed to the sticky feel of lip gloss.
“Just a little,”
Arielle had said when she protested.
“You already have those gorgeous thick eyelashes,
but a little color on your lips will do wonders.”
Judging by Tucker’s expression when she’d answered the door, maybe Arielle was right.
Tucker turned off the engine, then helped her from the car. They hadn’t taken five steps when her heel caught in a crack on the sidewalk. She stumbled forward.
Tucker steadied her, his hands burning the skin on her arms.
Idiot!
She couldn’t even walk a few steps in these ridiculous shoes Arielle had loaned her. Why hadn’t she worn flats? She felt like a little girl playing dress-up in her mother’s clothes.
“I should’ve let you off at the door,” Tucker said.
“I’m a klutz in heels.”
He laughed, a deep and warm sound. “This from the server who balances five plates of food on a tray, skirting tables and waitstaff without a spill?” He smiled.
The host took them out to the terrace, a secluded garden covered with an awning. Over their heads, white lights twinkled.
They were seated at a blue checkered table in the corner of the patio. Patrons filled the other tables, their chatter creating a quiet clamor. They looked at home in this upscale restaurant with their expensive jewelry and name-brand handbags.
The evening was mild, and the patio shielded them from the ocean breeze. The delicious aroma of garlic and steak filled the patio.
“Have you been here?” Tucker asked.
“No, I haven’t.”
He looked so handsome in his crisp white shirt and blue tie that matched his eyes.
He’s wearing a tie.
She opened the menu, more to occupy her hands than anything. He opened his as well, and when the server came, they placed their orders.
Before an awkward silence could settle, Sabrina spoke, “So, your secretary is in the play?”
He propped his arms on the table, and she noted the sturdy thickness of his forearms protruding from his rolled-up cuffs.
“Dorothy. She’s sixty-something years old and half-blind, but she throws herself into whatever she’s doing.”
“So what’s the play we’re seeing?”
“
Cinderella
. She plays the fairy godmother.”
“Oh, for a fairy godmother! I can see where that would come in handy.” She cringed as the sentence ended and took a sip of water. She wished she knew what to say, how to act. It had been a long time since she’d had a date.
“You don’t need one tonight. You look especially nice. I like your hair down.”
After staring at Arielle, she probably seemed plain as a weed next to an exotic orchid. “You don’t have to say that.” She immediately wished she could recall the words. He was going to think she was fishing for a compliment.
“It’s true.”
She glanced at him. His eyes turned down at the corners. She picked at the tablecloth, deciding not to argue. She didn’t need someone patronizing her, especially not Tucker. Even Jared had rarely commented on her appearance. She didn’t expect flattery.
Sabrina checked her watch, wondering how long the food would take and what they’d talk about until it arrived.
“Bored already?” The corners of his lips turned up.
“No, I just—I just wondered what time the play starts.”
“We have plenty of time.”
Great. Just what she wanted to hear.
“How was work today?” he asked. “You seemed busy.”
She was glad for the trivial subject. “Evan was sick, so we bussed our own tables, which made it pretty hectic.”
“Do you like working at the café?”
She shrugged. “I’m good at it, and it pays the bills.”
“What about your work for Renny?”
“I love it. I hope someday when she’s published and writing a couple books a year, she’ll want me full-time.”
The server brought their drinks. Sabrina sipped her tea. She’d thought Tucker might question her about Arielle, but he seemed content with casual conversation.
She had a flashback of the night he’d driven her home when it was raining. That night replayed itself often with vivid accuracy. The warmth of his palm on her wrist, his deep, throaty laugh. The woodsy smell of his cologne a breath away. The way he’d looked at her, as if she mattered.
Had Sabrina read more into the moment than there was?
Did it matter? There was no future for her and Tucker. Nothing beyond an email relationship.
And what would happen if Tucker and Arielle fell in love for real?
