Waiting for the Storm (5 page)

“Exactly.” Nobody else understood. Ella thought I was crazy for not going to college right away, but then she couldn’t wait to get away from home and be on her own. The only thing Dad had said about the whole situation was that he was glad I’d spent so much time with Mom, and he hoped to one day see me in the halls at his university. I knew he’d support me no matter what, but we hadn’t talked about what I was going to do come fall.

Not wanting to think too much about it, I cast around for something to say, then settled on Ezra’s comment about work paying the bills. Most eighteen-year-olds I knew didn’t have to worry about stuff like that. “You live on your own?”

He took so long to answer I didn’t think he was going to. “Yeah,” he said finally. “It’s…just me.” I couldn’t tell by his tone or expression—or
lack
of expression—if that was a good thing or not.

He went to raise his water bottle to his lips but then must have remembered he’d emptied it a few moments before because he lowered it again, giving it a little shake.

“Want me to refill that?”

He looked over at his house. “If you wouldn’t mind.” He handed me the bottle and stopped the motion of the swing. As I rose and headed around the side of the house, a sudden thought hit me, and I stopped. “Do you want to stay for dinner?” I blurted before I could lose my nerve.

He cocked his head to the side, a small smile flirting around the edges of his mouth.

“I’m not hitting on you,” I said.

His answering grin was quick, and exactly what I’d been hoping for. What I hadn’t expected was for that grin to be so sexy it nearly knocked me back a step.

“I’m a good cook,” I added. It was true; and if Ezra could sound matter-of-fact without coming across arrogant, I could try it too.

“Sure,” he said slowly. “Thanks.”

I nodded and held up the bottle, indicating I’d be right back. Inside, I filled the bottle from the tap, hoping island water was cleaner than our tap water back home. I’d have to see if the local general store carried Brita filters.

Thinking of the general store also made me think of our food supplies. I yanked the fridge door open, not sure what I was expecting. Did I think that more food would have magically appeared while I was in my room on the computer? “Way to go, Charlotte,” I muttered, opening cupboard doors and finding them mostly bare. “Invite a guy to dinner and have nothing but leftover pizza or sandwiches to serve.”

I took Ezra’s water and rejoined him on the swing. He thanked me and set the swing moving again while I contemplated my options. I could take back the invitation to dinner and seem like a crazy person who randomly invited people over without anything to serve. Although I might already seem slightly crazy since technically Ezra was still a stranger and I’d just invited him to join me for a meal.

My second option was to find Dad and tell him we needed more groceries, which I really didn’t want to do. Option number three was to walk down to the store myself and haul stuff back. If Dad forgot that we needed to eat on a daily basis, that might be the option I’d have to take, and since I could only carry a limited amount of stuff, I’d probably end up doing that every couple of days.

“Something wrong?” Ezra asked.

I sighed. “I, um…forgot that I needed to go to the store for groceries.” I cringed, waiting for his reaction.

“You can take my car if you want,” he offered, pointing toward the front of his house where I could just barely see a car parked in the driveway.

“Wow, you’re trusting,” I told him. “How do you know that if I took your car I wouldn’t just keep driving, take the ferry to the mainland, and never turn back?”

Ezra shrugged one shoulder, looking unfazed. “You wouldn’t.” There was that matter-of-fact tone again. I wanted to ask what made him so sure, but then I remembered he might have overheard Ella last night when she basically told the guy on the beach that I was a big, dull dud.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t,” I said instead. “Mostly because I don’t drive.”

“Don’t or can’t?” he asked.

“A little bit of both.”

I waited for him to question my answer, but he didn’t. “Well…” He leaned back in the swing, looking thoughtful. “I have an old bike in the garage that belonged to my mother. You could use that. The road’s gravel but there’s a well-worn path along the shoulder where people walk and bike. It wouldn’t even take ten minutes each way, and there’s a basket on the back of the bike you could put the groceries in. Unless the not driving thing extends to bikes, too.”

I laughed lightly. “It doesn’t.”

“Okay, then. Take the bike, get what you need, and if you want I can take you grocery shopping sometime this week when I’m not working.”

I just stared at him, eyes wide in surprise.

“Too forward?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I’m just…”
Not used to people doing things for me anymore
, I thought, but I didn’t want to tell him that. “That would be great.”

“I’ll go get the bike.” He stopped the swing and hopped up. “Then I have to get back to work. By the time you’re back, I should be done for the day.”

It took him awhile to find the bike in the garage, and then he had to wipe cobwebs and dust from it and pump air into the deflated tires. By the time he was done, I hoped he wasn’t thinking I was more trouble than I was worth. I also hoped the general store carried more than just basic provisions so I could make a really good meal.

Leaving the bike in the driveway, he motioned for me to wait, then disappeared back inside the garage. A few seconds later, he came back out carrying a pink helmet. “Sorry,” he said when he saw my expression, “but it’s law on the island.”

He settled the helmet on my head and adjusted the chinstraps, his fingers brushing lightly against my neck. It took everything in me to stay still—not only because I was extremely ticklish, but also because I was no longer used to having people, especially boys, this close to me. Between his proximity and the touch of his hands, I was trying really hard not to squirm.

“There,” he announced, clicking the straps into place and surveying his handiwork with a smile that seemed much too amused for my liking.

“Thanks,” I said dryly.

“Don’t mention it.” This time his smile was definitely amused, and I gave him a playful shove. He chuckled, shoving me back lightly in the direction of the bike. “If you’re not back in an hour, I’m coming to look for you.”

“Duly noted.” I released the kickstand and mounted the bike, giving him a little salute as I wheeled down the driveway and onto the road.

CHAPTER FIVE

Ezra was right; it only took about ten minutes to reach Carrington Drive. The beach road had been quiet, and I’d taken my time, enjoying the scenery. I parked my bike in front of the general store and stood there wondering what to do since Ezra hadn’t given me a lock. In Toronto if you left a bike unlocked you’d be lucky if it was still there when you returned.

You’re a long way from Toronto
, I reminded myself.

“Just leave it,” a voice called. I turned to see a tall middle-aged man leaning in the doorway of the general store. “Nobody’ll bother it.”

I nodded my thanks and leaned the bike against a tree. I took off the helmet and ran my hands through my hair, which was damp with sweat. Leaving the helmet dangling on the handlebars, I stepped inside the general store.

The man who had been standing in the doorway was now behind the counter, leaning over an open newspaper. “You Charlotte or Gabriella?” he asked without glancing up.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised he knew who I was. Or at least had a general idea. In a place this small, everybody probably knew each other and kept up with what was going on.

“Charlotte.” When he still didn’t look up, I swept my gaze over the store. It was a lot more than I’d been expecting—there seemed to be a decent grocery section, along with a tiny pharmacy, post office, and a small area that had everything from books to clothes to hygiene products.

The sound of the newspaper rustling drew my attention back to the counter. The man had folded up the paper and was watching me, his expression inscrutable. “I’m Hank Malone. My wife, Lilah, owns the house you’re staying in.”

“Oh,” I said dumbly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He grunted, but his expression softened slightly. “I knew your ma. Used to run around with her group sometimes in the summer.” His expression softened further, and he muttered something that sounded like ‘the summer girls’. He must have been talking about Mom, Lilah, and Ezra’s mom, Izzy.

He cleared his throat roughly and tossed his newspaper under the counter. “Was real sorry to hear of her passing,” he said.

I started to thank him, but he spun around and disappeared into a back room. I waited a minute, then decided I’d better get on with my shopping so Ezra wouldn’t have to come looking for me. He’d made it sound like a joke, but I had a feeling if I was gone long enough he really would come searching for me.

When I turned, I almost ran into a woman standing behind me. I murmured an apology and she smiled warmly. “Don’t mind Hank,” she told me quietly. “His bark is worse than his bite. He’s kind of wary of strangers, which doesn’t do him any good in a town that thrives on its tourist industry. He’s a bit gruff, but he’s really an old sweetheart under that surly exterior.” She said all this in a conversational tone, as if she were talking about the weather.

“Good to know,” I said with a small smile, hoping she wasn’t one of those people who liked to strike up long conversations with strangers in the middle of the grocery store.

She gave me a nod and another kind smile, then carried on toward the pharmacy. I grabbed a shopping basket and headed off down the first aisle. When my basket was nearly full, I figured I shouldn’t get anything else or I wouldn’t be able to carry it on the bike. I’d found everything I needed to make fettuccine with homemade alfredo, and garden salad. I’d grabbed a few extra things that I hoped would last the next few days until either Dad or Ezra could bring me back to do a proper shopping.

Hank was at the counter when I made my way up. He rang my purchases through in silence, bagging them as he went. “Probably not the selection you’re used to,” he commented. “If there’s anything you want and don’t see, I can special order it, so long as it’s not something fancy or hard to find.”

I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of my lips. “I think you’ll have pretty much everything I need.” He glanced up, looking almost surprised. “Thanks, though. There might be something else I need eventually.”

He nodded and told me my total. I paid him and reached for my bags, but he scooped them up and headed around the corner and out the front door. I hurried after him and found him outside settling the bags carefully into the basket on my bike.

He turned to me and avoided my gaze, clearing his throat again before saying, “Lilah mostly takes care of the property up there, but…well, if she’s not around and there’s something you need…well…you just let me know.”

The woman inside had told me Hank was wary of strangers. Did he see my mother in me—the girl he had known all those years ago—and decide I wasn’t so bad? Regardless, I had a feeling Hank was a big teddy bear deep down.

“I will,” I assured him. “Thanks.”

His lips twitched slightly, and I assumed that was as much of a smile as most people got from Hank. Without another word, he walked past me and into the store.

When I got back to the house, Ezra was just packing up his tools. “You made good time,” he called as I parked the bike and took off the helmet.

“I’d have hated for you to have to send a search party after me.” I swung the bags from the basket and carried them toward the house.

“What’s for dinner?” He fell in step beside me, trying to peer into the bags.

I told him, and his face lit up. “
Homemade
alfredo? I’ve only ever had it out of a jar.”

“You’ll never want the jarred stuff again after you’ve tried mine,” I promised.

“I don’t doubt that.” We looked at each other for a long minute, and it might have been my imagination but I could have sworn something passed between us. A spark? Some sort of recognition? I wasn’t sure, but from the look on his face, I thought he must have sensed it too.

“I’m just going to go home and get cleaned up,” he said. “I’ll be back over in a few, okay?” I nodded and watched him start to walk away, but he stopped and turned back. “Charlotte?”

“Yeah?”

His smile was boyish now, almost shy. “Don’t start that alfredo until I come back, ’kay? I want to see how you make it.”

I chuckled. “Okay, Ezra. You can even help me if you want.”

His smile widened, and he gave me a quick wave before jogging toward his house.

The house was quiet when I entered, except for the faint sound of the upstairs shower running. Ella was likely getting ready for a night out.

I put the groceries away and laid out everything I would need for dinner. I was hot and sticky after my bike ride, and I contemplated changing my clothes, but didn’t want Ezra to think I had changed for or because of him. After the fifth time I had to pull my damp shirt away from my skin, I decided it didn’t matter what Ezra thought. Did boys even notice that sort of thing anyway?

I ran upstairs, stripping the moment my bedroom door was closed. I hopped in the shower and let the cool water rinse away the dust and dirt I’d kicked up on the gravel road. I wanted to linger, but knew I didn’t have time, so I got out as quickly as I’d gotten in, toweled off, and dressed in denim shorts and a purple tank top.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I heard the sliding glass doors shutting, and Ezra appeared in the living room doorway a second later.

“I knocked but no one answered.”

I wasn’t used to leaving doors unlocked. It unsettled me slightly, but apparently most people on this side of the island left their doors unlocked the majority of the time. “I ran upstairs,” I told him. “I don’t know where my dad is.” I stepped off the bottom stair and stopped in front of him. “I’m glad you let yourself in and didn’t give up and go home.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. His hair was damp from a shower, and it was already beginning to curl around his forehead and ears. He’d changed into shorts that were similar to the ones he’d been wearing before, and paired them with a dark-green t-shirt and flip flops. He smelled amazing, like a fresh spring breeze underscored with something faintly citrusy.

I started in the direction of the kitchen and motioned for him to follow. “Do you cook?” I asked.

“Some. I’ve been on my own for awhile, so it was either learn or starve.”

I wanted so badly to ask where his parents were, but I didn’t want to be too forward. We had just met, after all. Earlier it sounded like the house had been his mom’s, so where was she now? And his dad? I waited a beat, hoping he’d volunteer more information, but he didn’t.

“Well, it’s a good skill to have,” I said. “My mom taught me when I was pretty young, and I took over all the cooking when she got sick.”

“What can I do?” he asked.

“How are you with a knife?” I pulled a long, sharp knife from the block on the counter.

“Depends what I’m doing with it.” He glanced at the array of ingredients on the counter.

“Knife fight,” I deadpanned. “You know, like a sword fight?”

“Well in that case, I’m better with dueling pistols than knives,” he replied without missing a beat.

“Damn, I left my dueling pistols back home,” I told him. “I guess for now you could start with this garlic.” I peeled a head and handed him three small cloves. “Can you handle that?”

“I’ll let you know if it gets to be too much,” he said. “I hope you know first aid.”

While Ezra started chopping garlic, I measured milk, cream cheese, and flour into the blender and mixed them together. We were working at the same counter, standing only a few feet apart, and I could smell him even over the rising scent of garlic. His nearness combined with that fresh, clean Ezra smell was distracting. I was glad I wasn’t the one with the knife.

“That’s perfect,” I said when he’d finished chopping. I told him to sauté it in a pan with butter, then I added it to the milk mixture and set it on the stove to thicken.

“That’s it?” he asked, leaning over the pot and inhaling.

“That’s it. I just have to stir it for two minutes, let it simmer for a bit, then remove it from the heat to keep thickening.”

“Huh.” For some reason I found his surprise endearing. Ezra didn’t seem like the type to be surprised by much, and the fact that it was over something so simple made me like him even more.

I asked him to start the water for the pasta while I assembled the salad. We’d made enough food to feed about half a dozen people, even though I wasn’t sure anyone else would be joining us.

As if on cue, Ella entered the kitchen and froze when she saw Ezra standing at the stove. Her eyes roved over him from head to toe, and a wolfish smile overtook her face.

“Hi there,” she said, sashaying further into the kitchen and stopping a few feet from Ezra. She struck what I’m sure she thought was a sexy pose, with her hand on her hip. “Who’s this?”

I was ridiculously pleased to see that Ezra didn’t look impressed by Ella. I figured that said a lot, considering my sister was wearing about the shortest dress I’d ever seen, baring an almost indecent amount of perfectly tanned skin.

“This is Ezra,” I said when he didn’t answer right away. “Ezra, this is my sister El…Gabriella.”

“Ezra,” she said slowly, eyeing him like he was a big piece of man candy. “What a cool name. Where’d you get it?”

“I’ve always had it,” he said, and I couldn’t help the snicker that rose to my lips.

Ella shot me a nasty look, her sexy smile fading. “A funny one,” she said, turning back to Ezra. “I like that.”

Ezra smiled, but it wasn’t one of the knock-your-socks off smiles he’d been giving me all day. I’d seen guys give girls that smile—the kind that didn’t reach their eyes—when they were giving them the brush off.

“Ezra’s staying for dinner,” I told Ella. “It should be ready in about ten minutes.”

“Oh, what a shame,” Ella said, looking at Ezra as if he was the one who’d spoken. “I’d love to stay but I already made plans with Caroline from next door.”

“That’s too bad,” Ezra said, shooting me a surreptitious look of relief.

Ella must have seen the look that passed between us because her expression turned sour. She covered it quickly, and said to me, “It’s so good to see you making friends, Charlotte.” Her tone was sweet, and she spoke slowly, as if she were talking to a very small child. “It’s not healthy for you to spend so much time alone. I worry about you, you know.”

She brushed past me, patting my shoulder and sending a dazzling smile in Ezra’s direction. “You kids have fun. Don’t wait up!”

I turned quickly toward the stove, stirring the sauce with new vigor as I tried to avoid looking at Ezra.

“What a bitch,” he muttered.

I looked over at him and almost laughed when I saw that he’d clapped a hand over his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “That was so inappropriate. She’s your sister, and…”

“She is a bitch,” I agreed, surprised to hear the words coming from my mouth. I’d thought them often enough over the last few months, but I’d never said them out loud.

Ezra looked relieved, and when he smiled it was one of those genuine knock-your-socks-off smiles that made my heart stutter. “I’ve never understood why people feel it’s necessary to cut others down in order to make themselves feel better,” he said. “But especially when it comes to family. I…I heard what she said last night. On the beach. I couldn’t see your face, but I knew you heard her, too.”

I sighed. I’d been hoping he hadn’t heard what Ella said to that guy. And yet, it didn’t seem to change the way Ezra felt about me. He’d still talked to me today, and he was still here now.

“She just…” I shrugged, uncertain how to explain the odd relationship between Ella and me. “I don’t even know anymore. We used to be close when we were younger. Things just got messed up somewhere along the way.”

Ezra nodded. “I can understand that,” he said quietly.

His expression was so earnest I wanted to pour my heart out to him and tell him everything that was on my mind—my mom’s illness, how my dad was acting so strange, my sister’s resentment toward me, my fears and insecurities and uncertainty over my own future.

But then I remembered that we’d only just met, and you didn’t dump all your crap on someone you’d just met. I had no idea if he was just being nice to me, as the new girl in town who happened to be the daughter of his mother’s childhood best friend, or if he was interested in being friends…or dare I even consider something more?