Up to the Challenge (An Anchor Island Novel) (6 page)

“Who needed the refills?” she asked, returning to the little boy’s table. The mother and daughter had returned. The dad kept his eyes on his plate.

“I’ll take one, but no more for the kids, thanks,” said the mom.

“She’s our calendar girl,” the little boy said, smiling to reveal a gaping hole where a tooth used to be. “Ain’t she, Dad?”

“Our what?” the mother asked.

“Nothing, dear.” The dad wrapped an arm around the boy’s head, tucking him into his side. The move looked more like an attempt to suffocate the kidlet than hug him. “Could we get the check, please?”

“But mom said we could have cherry pie for dessert and we haven’t even ordered that yet.” The girl looked slightly older than her brother and sported the same toothless grin. Sid wondered if they’d knocked them out for each other the way Randy had once knocked hers out during a wrestling match.

He’d panicked at the sight of blood, giving Sid the chance to pin him the required three seconds and claim victory.

“One piece of pie for each?” she asked the mom.

Headband askew on her short brown hair, the woman looked from one child to the other. “One piece and they can split it.”

“Aw, Mom,” echoed in stereo.

“One piece of cherry with two forks on the way.” Sid glanced over to the dad, who looked ready to bolt. “And I’ll bring the check.”

Spotting new customers filing into an empty booth in her section, Sid decided to get their drink orders before hitting the kitchen for the pie. Though she’d never admit it, she kind of liked being called a calendar girl.

Lucas had never been punched before, but seeing Sid standing there looking like a goddess in white cotton and hints of pink lace knocked the wind out of him. The one or two times he’d seen her smile had sent him back a step, but the full blast of that body about put him on his ass.

How the hell could anyone hide all that? From the smooth, olive shoulders to the trim waist and sultry curve of
her hips. And the breasts were perfection, especially in that lacy number clearly visible beneath the white cotton of the tank. The designer of that garment deserved an award.

And that begged another question. What was Sid doing wearing a girlie number like that?

Lucas decided there needed to be a law against Sid Navarro ever wearing anything baggy. Ever. Maybe he could file the papers to add a statute to the island bylaws. Gather a petition if necessary. Every male on Anchor would sign.

For the two hours following what he now thought of as the big reveal, Sid barked out drink orders and he filled them. No casual banter. No snide insults. No harmless teasing. Something had changed between them. As if a switch were thrown and a cloud of sexual tension fogged up his brain.

He’d like to think the same cloud fogged Sid’s brain, but then he hadn’t taken anything off (something he’d be willing to correct) and her face gave nothing away. The woman was operating like a robot. No facial expression, unless you counted that crease between her brows and stubborn set of her chin to be a facial expression.

“Looks like the place is still standing. That’s a good sign,” said Joe, joining Lucas behind the bar. “Everything go okay?”

Lucas was tempted to say no, then demand to know why Joe hadn’t warned him about Sid and her best-kept secret. Or secrets, in this case. But then Joe wouldn’t notice a glacier unless it landed on his boat. He never did have much of a radar for hot women. Until Lucas had put his fiancée in Joe’s path. Then the radar zoomed right in.

“What’d you think, that I’d ruin the business in one day?”

“Forget I asked.” Joe dropped his keys in a drawer below the register. “Let me grab some rags, then I’ll take over so you can count your drawer.”

A simple “thanks” should have been his response. Instead Lucas said, “You do that.” Six weeks of acting like a douche was not in his plans, but he needed another day or two to adjust his attitude. He’d prefer to make the adjustment himself rather than force Joe to take matters into his own hands.

Lucas had been ready for a brawl six weeks ago, but that night he’d been running on anger and hurt. Both emotions remained, but neither would be quelled with his fists. The fact Joe worked out with a punching bag on a regular basis put the odds squarely in his brother’s favor anyway. Lucas preferred litigation over pugilism.

“I’m heading to the office to count my tips,” Sid said, dropping her tray with the other spares under the bar. “I’ll take your jar with me so you can’t add to it while I’m gone.”

“You don’t trust me?” Lucas asked, struggling to keep his eyes above her neck.

“You’re a lawyer.”

“And you’re a mechanic.”

“So what?”

“So mechanics are notorious for telling people they need shit fixed when they don’t.” The line between Sid’s eyes deepened at his words. “If we’re going by occupation, you’re more likely to cheat.”

“You piece of sh—”

“Hey guys,” Beth said, stepping between them. “How did it go today?”

Lucas raised his brows at Sid, giving her the chance to answer first.

“Fine,” Sid said, making it sound like a totally different four-letter word.

Beth glanced his way as if waiting for his agreement. He nodded. Whatever war waged between him and Sid was their own business.

“Good.” Beth returned her eyes to Sid and must have noticed the steam coming out of her ears. “Are you sure? This feels a little … tense.”

“I’m not tense. Are you tense, Sid?” He’d probably regret pushing her, but Lucas couldn’t help himself. Sid was gorgeous with a smile, but sexier than hell when pissed off. Right now, she looked hot enough to burn the place down.

God knew his own smoke alarms were going off.

“You’re picking up on pretty boy’s nerves is all.” Sid removed her pocketed apron, careful not to spill the contents. “We have a little bet going that I could outearn him in tips. He’s about to lose, which has his fragile ego all atwitter.”

She had him atwitter all right. But not his ego. “I suggest we have Beth count the money. Not that we don’t trust each other or anything.” Lucas leaned on the bar. “But an unbiased third party never hurts.”

Through pinched lips, Sid agreed. “Everything I made is in here,” she said, handing the apron to Beth. “I’ll get Annie caught up on my stations while you count.”

Ten minutes later, Beth strolled out of the office carrying two ziplock bags full of money. One looked more
full than the other, but Sid couldn’t be sure whose was whose.

“This one goes to Sid,” Beth announced, dropping the bags before their respective owners and looking up at Lucas. “She outearned you by more than a hundred dollars.”

“There’s no way.”

Sweet victory. Sid considered being gracious about the win, but where was the fun in that? “Pay up, sucker,” she said, a satisfied grin on her lips, hand out expectantly.

He crossed his arms, emphasizing those damn muscles. Keeping hazel eyes locked on Sid, he asked Beth, “How much do I have in there?”

Beth pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. “One hundred thirty-eight dollars and twenty-three cents.”

Without a word, he hoisted the bag off the bar and hurled it at Sid’s head. She caught it three inches from her nose. “You expect me to count out the hundred myself?”

“Nope,” he said, spinning his register keys on one finger. “Take it all. Consider it a bonus for our first day together.”

Another one-forty on top of her earnings on the day would add a nice chunk to the garage fund. But instead of feeling satisfied about taking his money, she felt guilty. Why couldn’t he have been smug or demanded a recount? Instead, he’d been the gracious one.

Such a jerk.

“If you’re going to be that way, you can keep it.” Sid threw the bag back, but he returned it as if they were playing a game of hot potato. She kept the game going, throwing it back, harder this time. “I said forget it.”

The bag headed for her forehead. “You won fair and square,” he said.

She returned it. “We weren’t playing for all or nothing.”

He sent it back. “What’s forty dollars either way? Just take it.”

Forty dollars meant half a day closer to her garage but hell if she’d let him know that. She sent the bag sailing through the air again, but this time Joe caught it.

“That’s enough,” Joe said, then looked at Beth. “Open Sid’s bag.” Beth did so and they all stood motionless as Joe emptied Lucas’s tips in with hers. “Now,” he said, shoving the bag into Sid’s hand. “Take the damn money and get the hell out of here. Both of you. We have a restaurant to run.”

Joe stormed off, leaving the three of them in stunned silence. Then Beth turned to Sid and whispered too quietly for Lucas to hear, “He’s going to make such a good dad.”

Sid turned raised brows on Beth. Had she missed a memo?

“Someday!” Beth exclaimed. “I mean someday. Not anytime soon. Sheesh. Don’t even joke about stuff like that.”

“Stuff like what?” Lucas asked.

“Nothing,” Sid said. She didn’t have to be a psychiatrist to know the subject of Joe and Beth having kids would not sit well with Lucas. At least not yet.

“Guess I’d better go.” Sid tucked her tips and winnings under an arm, then grabbed her own keys. The thought of Lucas walking home intensified the guilt she already felt for taking his money. Not that the man needed more money. He drove a BMW for Christ’s sake. But still. “You want a ride?”

Lucas didn’t answer right away. His eyes locked on her face for several seconds, then dropped to the floor as if he were contemplating a difficult puzzle.

Sid held her breath, wondering why she’d offered when the man seemed determined to keep her pissed off at all times. Admitting she wanted to be near him regardless was out of the question.

His eyes met hers again. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

A sound rejection. Twice in twenty-four hours. Lesson learned.

Lucas nodded a silent good-bye and walked away without looking back. As Sid took the same path, Beth whispered two words. “Be patient.” Sid ignored her.

Being around Joe and Beth should have been the toughest part about this extended visit to his island home. If anyone had asked him a week ago, Lucas would have said so without hesitation. Now he was starting to wonder.

From the moment he’d looked up from the bar to find a goddess with attitude ready to do battle, the only thing he could think about was how hot Sid would be in bed. No trouble figuring out which head that thought came from, which is why the upstairs brain needed to take over.

Sleeping with Sid would be bad. Okay, that wasn’t true. Sleeping with Sid would be amazing, and likely test his endurance and blood pressure. Getting involved with Sid would be the bad part. Sid belonged to Anchor, and one look in those melted caramel eyes told him she was the noncasual type. Her reaction to both his brief brush of her hair
during the ride from the hospital and his offhanded flirting that morning revealed an innocent vulnerability he hadn’t expected.

She may act tough, but Lucas was certain Sid didn’t play games or take sex lightly. Two qualities he found refreshing, considering the people with whom he associated on a regular basis were almost always working an angle and willing to play whatever role necessary to get what they wanted.