The Kiss on Castle Road (A Lavender Island Novel) (12 page)

“Oh!” She rescued them and shook some of the sand out. They were a gorgeous, vibrant berry color. “Stephanie didn’t take these at all then?”

“No. Do you want them?”

“Oh—I couldn’t. You should bring them home.”

“Honestly, I might forget to water them. You take them.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

She tucked them into her side. It was cute that Elliott didn’t like cut flowers. She’d always felt a little sad about them, too. These live daisies would look pretty planted outside the window of Olivia’s new nursery.

“So, you weren’t really smitten with her?” she asked.

“Not really.”

“What usually causes you to be smitten?”

He looked up at her, as if surprised by the question. “I haven’t felt smitten in a while.”

“Do you date much?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Work.”

“You’d rather work than date?”

He gave a little smile at that. “It’s easier to figure out gene sequences than to figure out women.”

Natalie smiled back and watched the ocean for a minute. “What exactly do you do, Elliott?”

“I’m a microbiologist,” he said. “I study virulence factors in pathogenic bacteria.”

Natalie blinked. “And that’s easier than dating?”

“Infinitely.” The smile grew sexier.

Natalie cleared her throat. “So what does ‘studying virulence factors in pathogenic bacteria’ mean, exactly?”

“Virulence factors are molecules that tell you about the bacteria, so you can study them and make correlations. Like if the sea lions that have a certain gene are getting sicker or not responding to meds. There’s such a huge outbreak here, so I came to have a lot of samples to study. But my friend Jim is . . . well . . .” He slumped back and stared out at the ocean.

“Jim is what?”

“Never mind. I’ve got to knock this off.”

“Knock what off?”

“Talking like this. My sister told me to stop talking like a geek. Especially on dates. This can get boring very quickly.”

“We’re not on a date.”

“Of course.” He winked. “Mancation.”

“Yes.”

Natalie didn’t want to admit how cute he looked right now. Or how many times she’d questioned her mancation already. Because of him. If she admitted any of that to herself, the bet was over. So she dove back into denial and tried to ignore the small flutters in her stomach.

“I find you interesting,” she suddenly blurted.

He lifted an eyebrow.

“Or, I mean,
it
,” Natalie stammered. “Your
job
. I find your
job
interesting.” Why was she blabbering? This wasn’t going to help her denial at all. At this point, denial might require a zip for her lips. Or a blindfold. Or an ejector seat to jettison her butt out of there.

Amusement played along his features as he looked at her more carefully. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“So you think it’s okay that I talk about my job on dates then?”

She took a deep breath. “I think your sister is wrong on this one. I think you should be able to talk about what you love and feel passionate about, and if they don’t find it interesting, then maybe they’re not right for you.”

The waves crashed into the blackness again as he contemplated that.

She shook a little more sand out of the flowers so she wouldn’t have to meet his gaze and be befuddled by that quirk of his mouth.

He nodded slowly. “Thanks.”

“So who’s your next date?” she asked with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Denial also demanded that she stick to her plan of helping him if she could.

“I think her name is Betsy. Or Becky?”

“Becky
Huffington
?”

“Nell didn’t say her whole name.”

“Science teacher? She’s writing a paper about the telescope on the hill?”

“That sounds right.”

“Huh.” Natalie stared out into the ocean.

Becky actually
would
be a good date for Elliott. She was one of Olivia’s friends—smart, kind, funny. Her long-term boyfriend had died in a scuba-diving accident two years ago and everyone had been encouraging her to move on. She was in her midthirties—maybe a little old for Elliott—but Natalie could picture them perfectly together. She took a deep breath and ignored the twinge of jealousy that shot through her.

“If it’s Becky Huffington, you’ll do fine,” she finally admitted. “You can probably talk science all night long, and she’ll gobble it up.”

“Is that right?” Elliott turned his shoulders toward her. “Nell said she saved the best for last.”

“Yeah, definitely . . . I could see that.”

“Do you think she’d like all the things the Colonel mentioned? The flowers, all that?”

“Um, yeah, actually.” Natalie thought about how Becky had always had an old-fashioned gracefulness. “I think she would. Here—give her these.” Natalie thrust the flowers back at him. Suddenly she wasn’t in the mood for them anymore. Becky would take her new flowers, her new friend. He would probably tell
her
she had intelligent eyes.

“No, you keep them.” He pushed them back. “They reminded me of you anyway. I asked specifically for gerbera daisies.”

Natalie raised her eyebrow. “Really?”

“I figured you had good taste.”

“I think all women love gerbera daisies.” Another competitive streak flashed through her, and she tucked the flowers closer to her hip. She shouldn’t take them, but now she wanted to keep one thing from Elliott before he met Becky. Which didn’t make sense, but there it was. “Thank you.”

He was looking at her intensely. “Should I pick her up at the door? Do you think she’d be amenable to that?”

“Yeah. She’s rather traditional. Plus, then you get to bring her home and offer one of those good-night kisses.” Natalie tried to throw a friendly grin into that one, but it came out feeling a little lopsided.

Elliott shot her another grin. “Sorry about that earlier. The Colonel can be a little pushy. I didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it
awkward
, exactly. You definitely know what you’re doing in that department.”

Elliott wouldn’t meet her eyes, but she thought she saw him smile.

“Anyway, I think Becky will be in good hands with your first-date skills. And the Colonel’s advice. But she’s old-fashioned enough that you probably shouldn’t push past the front door. I don’t know if Becky would sleep with anyone on the first date.”

“Oh, yeah. I would never . . .” Elliott shook his head.

Natalie turned more toward him and marveled at his clear discomfort at the topic of sex. This guy was adorable.

“You don’t sleep around on first dates?” Natalie didn’t know what was propelling her to push this conversation, but suddenly she was intensely curious.

“I . . . uh . . .
no
.” He shook his head. “I have um . . . firm . . . uh,
instructions
. Firm instructions. I’m uh . . . no.
No sex
on these blind dates. Instructions from my sister.”

“Well, that’s smart. Too close together? Too many girls?”

His ears were bright red now, visible even in the moonlight. “Um . . . yeah. Too uh . . . too many of her friends . . . It would just be . . .” He pulled out his phone and looked at the time. “I should be going.”

Natalie swept her feet underneath her and hastily followed Elliott to a standing position.

She didn’t really want to leave. Sitting out here with the ocean crashing in front of them, holding berry-colored gerbera daisies that Elliott said reminded him of her, and watching him blush while he stammered about sex was more charming than she cared to admit, but she probably should be getting back. She swept sand out of the lace on her dress.

“Let me walk you.” He scooped up his shoes.

“No, I have my bicycle. Plus, I should check to see if Paige is ready to leave, too.”

“Are you sure? I’d love to walk with you.”

She looked up at him—at the way the wind was whipping his hair into a mess over his eyes, at his hand casually in his trouser pocket, relaxed now that the topic of conversation was off him—and thought she truly would like that.

But . . . mancation, Natalie.

Maybe Paige was right to laugh at her. Maybe she couldn’t last three weeks.

“That’s okay. Good night, Elliott,” she finally said, turning to walk away up the dune.

She thought about turning back, to see if he was still looking at her. It was the first time she’d ever hoped for such a thing. All her life she’d hidden under menswear and clunky clothes and men’s hats, hoping to
keep
men from looking at her. But those were men who weren’t seeing her for who she was—only for what she looked like, and what they might like to do to her. But this man—this man was different. He thought she had intelligent eyes. Her hair color reminded him of a place where he grew up. He might want to be her friend. He didn’t sleep with women on the first date. He wanted something more. And the idea that he might find “more” in her thrilled her.

And she hoped he was looking right at her.

As her bare feet pulled through the sand at the very top of the hill, Natalie thought once more about turning to check.

Then her hope and confidence slid away. She resisted looking back. Because she didn’t want to know he was already turned toward the ocean, probably thinking of “the best for last” Becky.

She put the daisies that weren’t really hers in the basket of her beach cruiser, knocked her kickstand with her bare foot, and—although she could almost feel his eyes on her—pedaled away before she could check.

Because disappointment sucked.

Elliott watched Natalie all the way up the street, her 1920s dress flapping in the wind behind her, her hips dipping heavily left, then heavily right, to pedal her bike in her bare feet.

Damn, she was cute.

And incredibly sexy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat so close to a woman he’d found so sexy.

Maybe Ashley Thomas? In tenth grade? Ashley had sat next to him in English class and once asked for a pencil, and he’d spilled his lunch all over her—homemade by Grandma—including the gravy packed for his cold chicken. He’d scrambled to clean it up, accidentally touched her thigh, and she’d shrieked and pushed him away, yelling “Pervert!” at the top of her lungs. He’d never been able to look at her since. He was so glad when he’d switched schools a few weeks later.

Or then there was the time he stood by one of the Notre Dame cheerleaders at a football game and—in his gawking—hadn’t realized he’d put his sweatshirt on inside out. She’d smiled at him, checking him out, and he’d thought it was because she liked his build. When he’d gotten home and had seen the inside stitching in the mirror, which looked like some kind of insane heart, he’d realized why she’d made such a quick getaway.

But Natalie didn’t make him feel like a misfit. He had to give her that. Even with all his stammering through an unintelligible admission about
how little dating he did and how little sex he had
—had he seriously admitted all that?—her expression had managed to look like one of interest more than pity. And for that he’d be forever grateful to her.

Thoughts of her kindness carried him all the way back to his place. And then they mingled with one or two sexier thoughts of her that he allowed himself for brief interludes. The sexier thoughts mostly involved the glimpse of a beautiful thigh he’d caught when she’d stood up from the sand, along with the hint of some lacy underwear, and how the curve of her bottom had made him almost hyperventilate.

But she deserved better than to have him lusting after her. She was trying to be a friend, and the least he could do was respond in kind.

He forced himself back to work. And back to thoughts of his sea lions. And one or two brief thoughts about how he’d approach this date with Becky tomorrow. When his thoughts began drifting toward Natalie again, as they inevitably did, he forced himself back.

It was best to stay grounded in reality and logic.

CHAPTER 10

When Natalie woke the next morning, the first thing she saw were the berry-colored gerbera daisies on her nightstand, and she wanted to smile and roll back and think of Elliott giving them to her, but she didn’t.

Because he hadn’t really bought them for her.

And she wasn’t his date.

And she was on a mancation.

And he was going out with Becky Huffington tonight.

“Aunt Nattie!” Lily bounded on her bed as the springs groaned their dismay. “It’s time to get up!” Lily had come along with four stuffed animals and a soft Elsa doll, all tucked under her arms. “Guess what day it is?”

Natalie rolled over. “What day?”

“Sea lion day!” A few more squeaky-bed bounces confirmed her joy.

All Natalie could do was groan. She’d have to go to bed earlier to get used to this schedule. It wasn’t even Friday yet of the very first week, and she was already crushed from this nanny gig.

“All right, let’s get ready. School first.”

Natalie dropped Lily off at school with several oohs and aahs at the fifteen crayon drawings Lily had done of the three little sea lions, then multiple promises that they’d see the pups after pickup today. Then Natalie drove through the canyon in Olivia’s golf cart to her other job.

It was Zumba day at Casas del Sur. Steve Stegner explained that the ladies had lost their usual Zumba instructor, Cheryl, who was getting married and moving to Tahiti, and they wondered if Natalie might fill in.

She rushed down the hall to the ten a.m. class.

“I haven’t had time to study the DVD yet,” Natalie told Doris, who met her in the doorway.

“It’s okay, dear, we know the routine.” Doris patted Natalie’s arm as she pulled her into the room. Tiny bells—lined all the way around Doris’s brightly colored belly-dancer skirt—jingled as she took each barefooted step. “We just need you to help us with the music equipment. I can handle my phone, but those MP3 players confuse the heck out of me.”

The room was filled with twenty senior citizens, about seventy years on up, who all wore jingling scarves around their hips and colorful dance clothes. They were all shapes and sizes, and they all moved at different paces—some practicing slow, simple samba steps in the corner. All were barefoot.

Natalie found the music they were looking for on the MP3, connected the speakers through Bluetooth, and adjusted the volume for Doris, who took her place at the front of the room and shouted out instructions. “Now salsa, ladies! Now merengue!”

Doris was impressive. Although she moved fairly slowly, she seemed sure and steady in her bare feet, knocking her hip out at all the right moments, moving her limbs as if they were made of water. Natalie found herself staring and wanting to dance along.

After the last song, the women whooped and high-fived. The energetic activity seemed to have taken ten years off each of their flushed, smiling faces, and they all moved toward the door with their water bottles, hugging one another and giving more high fives.

As Natalie turned the system off and wound up the speaker cord, Doris and Marie approached from the side, dabbing at their foreheads with embroidered hand towels.

“Thanks, dear! I couldn’t figure out how to operate that thing,” Doris said.

“But you sure do a mean Zumba,” Natalie said.

Doris waved her hand as if to flutter the compliment away.

“Were you a professional dancer, Doris?”

“I was, dear.”

Marie glanced adoringly at her friend. “She’s too humble. She was the founder of Madame Zora’s Studios.”

“The
national
ones?” Natalie asked.

“Yep.”

“
You
were Madame Zora?”

Doris actually blushed. “One and the same. I danced with the Boston Ballet for ten years, then started the studio when I was twenty-seven.”

“Wow,” Natalie whispered. Twenty-seven? That was Natalie’s age. As she watched Doris nodding her thanks to all her friends, Natalie thought about what lifetimes these women and men had lived before moving here. The
Boston Ballet
? Then starting a studio that went national and had been on late-night commercials Natalie’s entire life? And the Colonel and his years in World War II? And their friend Trummy playing with Les Brown and His Band of Renown? They must all feel as though they’ve lived nine lives. But they’d committed to their passions early on to build rich lives for themselves.

Doris and Marie scooped up their belongings, the speakers, and the MP3 player, then shoved half of it into Natalie’s hands.

“We’ve got to get out of here. The poker class is next, and they need to cover the mirrors. Did you have fun last night at the art walk, dear? I thought I saw you talking to Dr. Sherman.”

Natalie juggled the speakers in her arms. “Yes, but he was on a date.”

Doris tsked, waving the thought off. “That didn’t seem like much of a date. That tiny Stephanie isn’t right for him at all.”

Natalie slid her eyes over to Doris. “You don’t think?”

“Not at all. Dr. Sherman needs someone more outgoing. Smart but a little wilder.”

“Really? He’s so shy himself.”

“Exactly. Opposites attract, you know. Let’s go this way. We need to bring all this stuff up to June at the lobby entrance.”

Natalie hoisted everything in her arms and followed Doris, still thinking about the opposites comment. “But you don’t want to meet someone
too
opposite,” she said. “I mean, Dr. Sherman’s so shy he might not like to leave the house. And Stephanie seems sort of the same. Maybe he needs someone like her.”

“No.” Doris shook her head fiercely. “He’s young. The younger you are, the more opposite you can handle. And the more opposite, the better. Right, Marie?”

“That’s right,” Marie said.

“Marrying your opposite brings you to the center,” Doris said.

“The center?” Natalie asked.

“Where the balance is. No one should go through life being too shy or too outgoing. Or too conservative or too liberal. Or too stingy or too much of a spendthrift. Being in the center is where it’s beautiful and where you can finally find your peace. So meeting your opposite, and learning from each other, brings you there. And the sooner you get there, the happier you’ll be.”

“I don’t know,” Natalie said. She was young, but if she met someone who was that opposite of her, she might want to rip his head off.

“Trust me, dear. I know these things.”

As they neared the next corner, bells jingling, they were almost sideswiped by the Colonel coming around the corner of the hallway, heading toward the lobby desk.

“Hello, ladies,” he said. “I was just coming to find you.”

“What’s going on?” Marie asked.

“I got a call from the Friends of the Sea Lion center. Apparently they’re seeing another increase of sea lion rescues this week, and they want us to come in today and start extra training.”

Steve Stegner hustled over from the lobby counter, where he’d apparently overheard the exchange. “No, no, we have to stick to the schedule, Colonel.”

“Schedule, schmedule,” the Colonel growled. “I’ll drive.”

“Colonel, your doctor said you shouldn’t be driving anymore,” Steve said.

“
AT NIGHT.
My doctor said no driving
at night
. I can drive during the day.” The Colonel looked back at Natalie. “He’s just jealous because my cart’s souped up to go faster than his.”

“How will you get back, Colonel?” Steve asked from behind them. “It’ll be dark.”

The Colonel stretched to his full height, and his face took on a fierceness that looked like something that would have made soldiers shiver in their boots.

But Natalie put her hand between them. “I’ll drive. My own cart. I’m off in fifteen minutes, and I have to take my niece there this afternoon anyway, so I’ll take as many as will fit.”

Steve opened his mouth, but Natalie guessed his argument. “
And
I’ll drive them back,” she added.

Steve closed his mouth and barely hid his glare toward the Colonel. Then he finally shrugged. “If you’re sure it’s okay.”

“All systems go!” the Colonel said, turning and pointing over his head toward the entrance. At the rate they were moving, Natalie would probably beat them to the parking lot.

But she wondered about Elliott and Jim and the sea lion influx.

This should be another interesting afternoon . . .

Elliott followed Jim around and listened to all his instructions for how to handle an influx: put extra towels down in the incoming room, make sure formula was being made, call for reserve volunteers. They’d risen from four incoming sea lions per day, four times a week—already a high number—to five incoming sea lions per day, five times a week. And Jim was looking nervous.

“Any ideas yet on what this is?” he asked Elliott as they moved eight baby sea lions from one room to another. They didn’t have enough crates or gurneys to go around, or enough volunteers, so the two of them were simply lifting the animals in their gloved arms and hauling them from one room to the next.

Elliott wiped a line of sweat from his hairline and blinked against his salty contacts. A crew of newer volunteers had already been promoted to rescue team, and they’d been out almost all day, responding to calls all over the island. A smaller crew was inside, handling intake and feeding. In this room, Jim and Elliott were lifting each pup onto a table to have a symbol shaved onto its belly so the crew could identify the pups while they were in the center. The whole team was exhausted. They’d been doing this all morning.

“These four were all found near Fruit Hill, so let’s call this one Bananas, and those ones Apple, Pear, and Peachy.” Elliott pointed them out to the young vet-in-training who was doing the shaving. She wrote each name in her ledger, next to the Greek symbol she’d shave on their sides to correlate with their names. Elliott held Bananas’s flippers aside so the vet could do her work. Normally Jim did this part, but Jim had headed for the front room, busy on the phones trying to get additional loads of sardines and anchovies brought in, plus trying to find a night crew who could blend the fish into formula for the dehydrated pups. Jim was smart to plan ahead and get all the right people in place this early in the season.

“Dr. Sherman! What are you doing in the intake room?” Doris tottered to where Elliott was still holding onto Bananas and reached for her own pair of gloves, presumably to take over flipper duty. Behind her trailed the Colonel, George, and—much to Elliott’s surprise—Natalie Grant and her little niece.

“I brought a whole crew for you,” the Colonel growled from the back. “Where do you want us?”

“I see.” Elliott had a hard time tearing his eyes away from Natalie. She had on her cargo capris, with a strappy pair of sandals, and still wore her Casas del Sur T-shirt, which hugged her in all the right places. A sporty ball cap sat on her head; her long braid escaped from underneath and fell heavily down her right breast. She gave him an intimate smile, and his whole soul seemed to settle.

“I, uh . . .” He tried to remember what question he was answering. “I think Jim has plans for all of you. I think he needs help on the phones today.” He nodded to Doris, who was good there. “And he might need help here, doing intake.” He glanced at George.

Elliott hoped Jim would put Natalie with
him
, wherever that was. He’d love to have her assist him in anything he did today. Although . . .
Come back to reality, man,
he chastised himself. Natalie’s niece probably just wanted to see her three intakes.

“Are you here to see Larry, Curly, and Moe?” he asked the little girl.

She was so cute—she had little braids, just like her aunt, and thick-lensed glasses like he’d always had.

She shoved the glasses higher on her nose and nodded enthusiastically, bouncing her knees against a small plastic case that looked like a toy doctor’s kit.

Elliott came to his senses and realized he should probably get her out of this particular room, where the incoming sea lions hadn’t even been tested yet.

“Let me take you to see them.” He hoisted the pup Bananas into his arms and inclined his head in the direction they needed to go. “Follow me,” he said, glancing down at Natalie’s niece.

He sure hoped her aunt would follow.