The Kiss on Castle Road (A Lavender Island Novel) (13 page)

Natalie tucked Lily into her side and trailed behind Elliott into the next room, where she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from him. He carefully lowered the baby sea lion he was holding like a sack of potatoes, his biceps straining all the way to the ground.

“We had to start a new room because our usual rooms are full,” he said, surveying the surroundings. “These guys will get bottle-fed next, and then we’ll draw a little blood so I can study it.”

He turned toward Natalie, but he seemed to remember that Lily was in the room. “But your three rescues are doing great,” he told her. “You got them to us just in time. Let me take you to see them.”

Elliott didn’t have his lab coat on today and instead wore cargo shorts, flip-flops, and a T-shirt, as if he’d just come off the beach. Large yellow rubber gloves stretched up along his muscled forearms. Having not seen him in so few clothes before, Natalie hadn’t been aware of what upper-body strength he had.

“They’re in here.” He opened a large windowed door for them at the end of the hallway and ushered them both inside.

The room held a small aboveground pool on one side, surrounded by wet concrete and a fence, where seven small pups lounged in a dapple of sunshine that came through a west-facing window.

“That’s Larry, that’s Moe, and that’s Curly there, over on the side. These other pups have been here longer, but Larry, Curly, and Moe have almost caught up already.” He squatted down on his haunches beside Lily next to the fence. “They’re still recovering and still a little weak, so they’re not as active as you might be expecting, but they’re definitely doing better.”

They did look fuller than Natalie remembered finding them, and not as gray. Their coats were turning a healthy brown.

“They do look better,” Natalie said.

Lily frowned and took her stethoscope out of her doctor’s case. “Can I check them?”

“Oh—no, they’re wild animals,” Elliott said. “I know they look cute, but we like to keep them wild, and we try to minimize their involvement with humans. That’s why we wear these.” He held his gloves up. “If we get them too used to human touch, or human care, they won’t be able to take care of themselves in the ocean, and that would be bad for them.” He made a cute sad face to Lily, but she was having none of it. Her sad face was for real.

Natalie stepped closer and ran Lily’s braids through her hands. “They have to learn how to live with other sea lions, hon.”

Lily looked as if she was going to burst into tears.

“But you can still help,” Elliott added. “Do you want to make their formula?”

Her face cleared, and she bobbed her head energetically, looking at Natalie once for approval.

“Sure. You can do that,” Natalie told her.

“I have to warn you—the formula’s made of fish. It doesn’t smell very good. But you get to wear an official volunteer apron.”

Lily nodded again with enthusiasm.

“Follow me.”

Elliott set Lily up with a volunteer who outfitted her in an apron and gloves, and Lily looked as though she was going to lose her mind with joy.

Natalie watched them both, not sure which one she found most amusing. But she definitely knew which one she found most alluring: Elliott’s confident movements, his backward grins toward Natalie, his patient explanations to Lily, and the way his arms were flexing were suddenly making her heart quicken.

She finally had to look away.

“She’s quite a little helper,” he said, coming toward the back counter where Natalie stood. They both leaned against the stainless-steel top.

“She wants to be an emergency volunteer of some kind.”

He nodded.

“Are you ready for your date tonight?” she blurted out. She didn’t know what made her say that, but a tiny thread of jealousy was winding its way around her heart.

Her question was enough to sever the small connection he’d seemed to be trying to make. His smile became distant and forced. “I suppose,” he said.

She wanted to kick herself.

“Are you excited about it?” she asked anyway. She’d become a glutton for punishment.

He watched Lily for a few seconds, then glanced at her with half-lidded eyes. “Are you still offering tips?”

The jealousy quickly faded into the background as a sexual jolt sent a shiver down her arms. Damn, what temporary lunacy had ever propelled her to offer such a thing? One should definitely not offer to help a man whose biceps one was starting to notice.

“Sure,” she squeaked. “What do you want to know?”

“The pressure’s on about my appearance now. Nell says Becky’s really sophisticated and knows fashion. I have a feeling I’m doomed on this one.” His smile let her know that he wasn’t that worried about it.

“Becky is into fashion, yes.” Natalie wondered if she should also mention Becky’s tendency toward low-cut necklines and the exaggerated Southern drawl that she pulled out for sex appeal, but she decided against it.

“The Colonel says no ‘dungarees.’ I’ve got that.” They both laughed. “Nell says wear contacts and leave my
Star Trek
watch at home. And—”

“You have a
Star Trek
watch?”

“It’s a nice watch—I mean, it’s not plastic or anything. I—”

“Is it one of the collectibles?”

“It is, as a matter of fact.”

“It’s not the TAG Heuer one, is it?”

He smiled. “It is. I won a his-and-hers set on a game show.”

“You were on a
game show
?”

“
Twenty-Nine Questions
. All my dirty laundry is coming out now.”

“Oh my God, that’s great.”

She watched the ruddiness take over his neck again and stared at the cute smile he had when he was embarrassed. Becky was a lucky woman.

“I think you should wear what you want to wear, Elliott. And forget about the contacts. If these women can’t accept you for who you are, or have an appreciation for a collectible
Star Trek
TAG Heuer, then they’re not worth your time.”

He nodded. “I like the way you think, Natalie Grant.”

The cool air from the sea lion pools warmed up just a little as Natalie let the coziness of that comment settle within her.

“Would you like me to give you my cell number in case something goes wrong and you want to call me for tips?” she asked. It wasn’t the best reason to give a guy your phone number, but it would do. She wanted to lengthen their new connection in any way she could.

He gave her another of those sexy sidelong glances. “I don’t expect to be calling you for advice from my
date
, Natalie.”

She nodded. Of course.

“But I’ll take your number.” He pulled his cell phone out and punched in the new number she dictated.

It felt like a bridge was crossed—she and Elliott were now officially friends.

When she and Lily left a bit later, she tried to keep her eyes off the forearm muscles she was noticing too much and focus again on their new trust.

“Good luck tonight,” she said at the door.

“Thanks.” He stared down at her curiously with a strange smile on his lips.

She grabbed Lily’s hand and headed down the brick walkway, trying to ignore all the duplicitous feelings ricocheting around her heart.

She really liked him. But she couldn’t date him. And she wanted him to be happy. And he very well might be happy with Becky. But she couldn’t help feeling stabs of jealousy . . .

Clearly, she still had a ways to go on this selfless-female-friend thing.

But she knew she could do this.

CHAPTER 11

Elliott approached the tiki-style restaurant at fifteen minutes till eight and made his way through the crowd that was spilling out onto the sidewalk, looking around briefly for a single woman who looked as though she was on a blind date. But she probably wasn’t there yet.

He was surprised he was so early, given the fact he’d stalled as long as possible to have Natalie around. After enjoying every minute of showing her and Lily the center, while still handling two more intakes, he’d rushed home and showered, changed into his date clothes, irrigated his eyes with some lens cleaner, and flew to the Wanderer.

Now he slid through the crowd sideways to get to the reservation desk.

“Reservations for two?” he said. “Elliott Sherman.”

The receptionist looked at her tablet. “You’re early. Would you like to wait at the bar?”

Elliott found an empty bar stool at the long bar, which ran down the side of the room, and tapped his fingers on the wooden top. He ordered a Maker’s Mark, neat, and sat and waited, looking around at the various couples. His mind had kept drifting to Natalie the whole time he’d been getting ready.
Does she like to eat shellfish? Did she grow up with both parents? Did she spend a lot of time on the island? Does she like the smell of aftershave?
Now, though, he needed to focus on at least giving this last date a chance.

He glanced again at his
Star Trek
watch. He’d decided to wear it. Because Natalie was right. He was tired of thinking he had to alter himself so dramatically for a woman to like him. If she liked him, she liked him. If she didn’t, she didn’t. Once he’d presented what he thought was his best, most respectful self—he’d even worn a tie tonight, but only because he liked ties—she had to accept him from there. He would have gone back to his much-more-comfortable glasses, too, but he still had to get them fixed. He’d bring them to the shop tomorrow. People were just going to have to accept him the way he was.

Another ten minutes went by, and Elliott asked the bartender for a pen so he could take a few gene-sequencing notes on a cocktail napkin to relax himself. When a full twenty minutes had gone by, though, Elliott began to think that Becky clearly couldn’t be good for him. Who came twenty minutes late to a first date? Plus, he wanted to get home and compare the formula he’d just jotted down with one he’d read about in a journal the other night.

Just as he was taking his last swig, ready to swing himself off the bar stool and maybe give up for tonight, a woman walked in who could only be Becky Huffington.

She wore a sparkly low-cut dress and wriggled her fingers in hello from across the bar. She held a pale-pink bag over her elbow that had a Chihuahua poking out the side.

Although he didn’t know what kind of person brought a Chihuahua to a bar on a date—and twenty minutes late at that—he took a deep breath and bolstered his reserve.

This was starting to feel like a challenge.

And Elliott decided he wanted to win.

Natalie curled up on the love seat in her flannel pajamas and told herself how relaxing this was.

Lily was in bed. Olivia was in bed. Paige had fallen asleep on the couch. And Natalie was planning on getting caught up with a few romantic comedies she’d wanted to see. She clicked the remote and repeated to herself that this was yet another wondrous advantage to being on a mancation—catching up on her Netflix list.

It was good to have a little mancation pep talk with herself. She’d started slipping this afternoon. (A man with roped forearms could do that to a gal.) But she needed to pull herself together. The twinges of jealousy she felt every time she thought about Elliott out with Becky right now were not becoming. Or appropriate. Or even healthy. Was she really as weak as Paige suspected? Not quite able to handle a full mancation, so clinging to any scraps of attention she could get from any man at all—especially one she wouldn’t normally look twice at, and one she supposedly only wanted to be friends with? And was she desperate to have
this
man pay attention because he was so uninterested in her? Pathetic. She needed to reset her priorities and remind herself that she could certainly survive three weeks without a boyfriend.

She found a Reese Witherspoon movie, pulled out some notes and her laptop, and jotted down a few ideas she’d had for the Senior Prom. It had been eons since she’d brought work home. It felt good to be so excited about something again. She called up an old spreadsheet template she’d seen her mother use and organized some of the details the seniors were struggling with. She spent an hour looking through catering plans, then another hour planning a music list.

By the end of the night, she’d almost entirely dismissed Elliott’s forearms from her mind.

And almost, even, the fact that they were likely wrapped around another woman right now.

Elliott hesitated in Becky Huffington’s doorway and watched her saunter in ahead of him as she corralled a bunch of tiny dogs that were yelping at her happily. She moved them toward a side room and motioned for him to come inside, heading down a hallway that looked as if it might lead to some bedrooms.

For a second, he hesitated. An image of Natalie leaped to his mind. But that was ridiculous. Natalie was not his. Natalie would never be his. And this date with Becky might actually have a future. So even though his heart wasn’t 100 percent in it, he stepped over the threshold and glanced around the corner to see Becky’s swaying hips heading back his way into the living room.

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked, moving toward a crystal decanter set up on a wet bar by the window.

“No, I’m good.” Elliott sneezed.

He’d had a nice dinner, although he’d seemed to be allergic to the candle on the table. But other than that, he’d had an okay time. He’d learned a lot about her by the second course. She seemed perfect, really—pretty, sexy, smart. She threw a Southern drawl into the conversation from time to time, which seemed to come out of nowhere, but he could maybe get used to that. The dog coming along was weird, but he’d learned his name was Chip, and Becky was just genuinely into dogs. She volunteered at a rescue center, which Elliott found admirable. He kept trying to crack jokes, and they kept falling flat. But he’d survive. He’d thought of how Natalie would have laughed at his cell-interfusion joke, but then he’d rubbed his itchy eyes, forced Natalie from his mind, and had tried to focus again.

By the end of dessert, Becky had given him directions to her place, and he’d followed in his golf cart to her house high on a hill on the far side of town.

At her door, she’d asked him inside and had yanked him playfully by his tie. There was no denying her intent.

“Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?” she asked. “I have gin, scotch, and vodka, and I can make you anything.”

“I’m good for now.”

“All right then, I’m going to change into something more comfortable,” Becky said with enough coo and innuendo and weird Southern lilt that no one could mistake where this was going.

He watched her sashay around the corner, and his heart went into overdrive. His throat felt as if it was closing seriously now. He’d never thought of himself as the type of guy who did things like this—slept with one woman while thinking of another. He usually didn’t have that many options, or that many women in his periphery.

He rubbed his stupid itching eyes, coughed to open his throat, and finally caved and poured himself a scotch from her decanter.

The scotch didn’t do much for his closing throat, but it did still his nerves for a second. Enough to lean casually against the wet bar and enjoy the lights of the city for a second. And then to sneeze again. And then to swallow around what felt like a fur ball in his throat. And then to see a little dog that came wagging around his feet. And then to come to the gradual realization that . . .

Oh damn.

He was allergic to these Chihuahuas.

He tried to swallow again, then gripped his throat. He had to get outside. He fumbled with the lock and frantically threw himself into the fresh air. The cold hit him in the face, but he sucked in as much freshness as he could, willing his throat to open back up.

When Becky finally came into the living room in an elegant, loungy-flowy pants thing, she took one look at Elliott through the glass and came flying out beside him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you happen to have an antihistamine of any kind?” He squeezed the words out. He was holding on to the balcony rail, trying to balance his highball glass and taking deep breaths.

“No, I don’t think I do,” she said, rubbing his back.

He tried to move out of her grasp, because it really wasn’t helping, and then rolled off a few brand names that he managed to squeeze out of his windpipe, but she kept shaking her head.

“Call Natalie!” she finally said.

“Natalie?”
Elliott wheezed. Although the name had been on
his
mind all night, it felt weird hearing it come from Becky’s lips right now.

“Yes, Natalie. You said you knew her here on the island. She’s probably staying at Olivia’s cottage, Olivia has one of the faster golf carts, and Olivia always has things like that. Lily has lots of allergies.”

“No. I can just stop at a drugstore or something. There’s one down near my place. I’ll just—”

“Mr. Gurley closes the drugstore at midnight. He’s gone. Here, I’ll call her!” Becky twirled toward the door, but Elliott shot out his arm and stopped her. Last thing he needed was for his date to call Natalie Grant for help.

The least embarrassing path seemed to be calling her himself, although he still didn’t know what to say. Maybe he could somehow make his allergy attack sound smooth. He reluctantly shuffled his phone out of his pocket and dialed.

“Elliott?” Natalie whispered worriedly into the phone. “Is everything okay?”

He wheezed out his predicament, asked if she had any antihistamines, and felt heat rise around his collar when Becky grabbed the phone and asked Natalie in a panicked, shouting voice if she could deliver them quick.

He grabbed his phone back. “No!” he said. “It’s late. I’ll come to you. I feel better already.”

“I’ll be right there.” And she hung up.

Elliott was sure his embarrassment couldn’t get much worse, so he concentrated on taking deep breaths, already feeling better out of the dander-ridden house, and leaned against the balcony. “I’m sorry” was all he could squeeze out to pretty Becky in the flowy pants. He just wanted to be swallowed up by the sagebrush surrounding the house, but instead he made his way across the balcony, leaped over the rail, landed in the brush, and walked around the side so he wouldn’t have to walk through the dander house again.

Becky met him at the front with a bottle of water and sat with him on the porch. He took a gulp to make sure his throat was still working and immediately felt better, although he sneezed twice when Becky got too close. She said she’d go inside and change.

He begged her not to bother. “We’ll do this another time. I’ll be more prepared.”

“Thank you for dinner, Elliott. And for an eventful night. I’m so sorry about the dogs.” She kissed him on the cheek and headed into the house.

A second later, Natalie came bouncing up the driveway in her red golf cart, then ran toward him with her arm held out, ready to drop the antihistamines into his waiting fingers. “Did she leave you
alone
out here?” she asked incredulously.

“I’m fine. I feel much better outside, and I kept sneezing around her. You didn’t have to come all the way out here.”

Seeing her again solidified his embarrassment. She’d changed into pajamas—flannel-looking things with cartoons all over them—and he was sorry he’d called her out of bed. Or maybe not. He couldn’t stop staring at her, even in an oversized, man’s-style top and pants, and huge floppy slippers.

“Are those
pieces of toast
?” he asked, inspecting the cartoons more carefully.

“I like toast.”

He downed the antihistamines with the bottled water and inspected the toast more carefully. He couldn’t get over her. She just made him want to smile.