Geoducks Are for Lovers (22 page)

Maggie hums into his mouth. Gil smiles against her lips. He breaks the kiss and smiles down at her.

  This moment seems more than just kissing. She strokes his jaw. Wanting to see his eyes clearly, she lifts up her sunglasses, and then his aviators. She wants tell Gil she felt the same way in college. 

As she steps back to meet his eyes, a big squirt of water splashes Gil on the leg.

“What the hell was that?” He jumps back in surprise as cold water drips down his leg.

“Speaking of geoducks… that my dear friend, was a geoduck.” She laughs. 

He is laughing now, too. “Wow. That was impressive.”

Maggie looks down. Not only is there a splash of water, she notices a distinctive bulge. 

“Speaking of impressive.” She points at his shorts. Looking up, she notices his cheeks redden. 

“Don’t tease me. It’s been a while for me. I feel like a teenager for sporting after a few kisses.”

“I wouldn’t tease you.” She steps forward until their bodies are flush again and rolls her hips a little.

“You are teasing me.” He swats her arm playfully. “I don’t want to meet Quinn’s husband with a tent in my shorts.”

“Probably not a good idea. He isn’t that kind of doctor.” She teases.

Thinking of Ryan, Maggie turns and squints back at the beach. She can barely pick out a cluster of people on her deck. “Speaking of the good doctor, looks like Quinn and Ryan are back from the ferry.”

Gil groans a little. “We should probably head back. Is it wrong I don’t want to rejoin the others?” He grabs her hip, and looks down at her body. “You look amazing in this top. The color brings out the green in your eyes.”

“Funny you can see my eye color given where you are staring. You know that staring at my boobs isn’t going to help the situation in your shorts, mister.” She jokingly chides him.

“True. We’ll have to stay out here all day, then.” He kisses her again.

“We’d be underwater when the tide comes in, silly.” She points out their location.

“Fine, we’ll steal a boat or a raft, and head out to sea.” He glances around as if looking for a boat.

“We can go to sea another day. Come on, you’ll love Ryan.” She grabs his hand and turns to head back to the house.

As they walk toward the beach, Biscuit jumps around, biting water from any clams or geoducks that squirt at him. When they get closer to the cabin’s beach, Maggie drops Gil’s hand.

He gives her a questioning look. “What’s up?”

“Do you mind if we keep this between us? Just for now? I don’t want Quinn to tease or Selah to smirk. I’d like to keep whatever this is ours for now.”

“Sure,” Gil agrees, but shakes his head. “No problem.” He squeezes her hand before letting it go. “I’ll follow your lead.” 

He waves his arm to follow her back to the cabin.

“Thank you. You’re so good to me.” She smiles at him and strokes his arm.

“I could be so good for you too,” he whispers, so softly she barely hears him.

Twenty-one

Maggie introduces Gil to Ryan. In flat-front khakis and tucked-in white linen shirt and lobster decorated canvas belt, Ryan looks every bit the successful East Coast doctor. His brown hair is buzzed short to disguise his impending baldness. Warm brown eyes behind wireless glasses are framed by deep laugh lines. He’s about the same height as Quinn but heavier.

“I’m surprised you aren’t wearing your Nantucket reds, Dr. Gooding.” She teases him after kissing both his cheeks. 

“Didn’t think you Left Coasters would get the historical meaning of pink pants.” He teases back.

“Pink pants?” Gil asks. “On guys? This is a thing?”

“You buy them red and let them fade to pink. The more pink they are, the cooler you are.” Ryan rolls his eyes. “Or something like that.”

“East Coasters are strange,” Gil comments.

“We are a rare breed. Was it Fitzgerald who said, “Go West, young man?”

“No idea, but his narrator in
The Great Gatsby
did make a speedy exit back west after the shit hit the fan,” Quinn answers.

“Can’t say that I blame him.” Maggie sighs.

“You always were a Left Coast girl even when you lived back East,” Selah says from her lounger next to Jo. “You can try to take the girl out of the Pacific Northwest, but you can’t take the… you know…” she fades out with a wave of her hand.

“Ryan, how was your flight? Do you want a shower? A nap? Food? Coffee?” Maggie slips into hostess mode.

“I’d love a giant glass of water and maybe some coffee,” Ryan says.

“Done,” Maggie says, as she heads into the house where Ben is pacing by the windows, still on his phone.

When she comes back with a large glass of water and a full carafe of coffee, the guys are sitting around the table.

“We never decided on lunch plans.” She mentions to the group. “We got distracted by the sun and our hangovers from last night.”

“Hangovers, huh? Sounds like I missed all the fun,” Ryan says.

“Oh, you did, my husband, you did. We solved the age old mystery of whether or not Maggie and Gil slept together in college. The answer is yes. I’d say it was a very productive evening.”

Ryan glances between Maggie and Gil. “I’m guessing Quinn suggested a game of I Never. It’s his favorite way to create drama and expose secrets at dinner parties.”

“Remember when Dr. and Mrs. Fishcakes drank on ‘I’ve never been to a key party?’ That was the best!” Quinn claps his hands.

“Q, they were in their sixties. The probability that they went to a key party in the ‘70s was pretty high.”

“Oh, I know, but it was so like the movie
Ice Storm
.” Quinn looks delighted at the memory.

Maggie and Gil exchange glances. “At least there wasn’t a key party involved,” he says.

“Nope, no keys.” Holding Gil’s gaze, she blushes.

“Why Maggie, I forgot you could still blush. It’s that fair Irish skin of yours,” Ryan says, looking over his shoulder at Jo and Selah lying on their chaises in the sun.

“I see you looking over here, Dr. Judgey,” Selah says without turning their direction. “I’m getting vitamin D, so I don’t get scurvy.”

“I think you mean rickets. Scurvy is what sailors got,” Ryan corrects.

“Right, right. Rickets. Sailors and pirates got scurvy. Poor scurvy ravished pirates.” Selah sighs.

“So as I was saying, lunch?” Maggie repeats, ignoring Selah and her pirates.

“Before I can decide on lunch, I need to know the menu for dinner,” Quinn says. “I don’t want to repeat.”

Ben walks out through the door, the phone still in his hand, but apparently his conversation is over for now. “I was thinking of getting some steaks and grilling them. I’m a little seafooded out to be honest,” he says as he sits down at the table.

“Grilling is easy. I have veggies from the farmers’ market we can grill, too. Salad, bread, done. Sound good?” Maggie looks around the group, and gets consensus from everyone.

“Okay, now that’s settled, lunch?” She feels like a broken record.

“Why don’t we head into Langley and grab some sandwiches or something? They have that sort of thing here, don’t they? Food not involving fish, mussels or crabs, right?” Quinn asks.

“I’m sure we can find you something that had hooves or feathers, Q.” Maggie gets up from the table. “Whoever wants to come, let’s leave in a half hour. If you want to stay, we can bring you something back.”

“I’ll stay here,” Jo says without lifting her head from the chaise. “It’s rare I can lie around and not do anything. I might even nap.” She turns her head and sighs.

“I’ll come with you. I want to check out that funky antique store by the pizza place,” Selah says, putting down her iPad, and dragging herself off the chaise.

“I’m in,” Gil says.

“Ben?” 

“Yeah, sure. When do I get to hang out with you guys?” He stares down at his phone, typing away.

After getting ready, everyone meets up in the kitchen to head out. 

Maggie notices Jo appears to be asleep already on her lounge chair. “Wow, she passed out fast,” she observes.

“She’s been run ragged by summer break. I think she’s counting the days until the kids are back in school,” Ben says.

Selah visibly shudders. “Ugh, I can’t imagine.”

Ben laughs at her obvious horror. “You really don’t have the mother gene.”

“I don’t ‘hate’ kids. I just have no desire to ‘raise’ one.” She frowns. 

“We could always send ours to visit Aunt Selah next summer, and you can examine the half-formed minds of human adolescents.”

Selah gives him a blank stare. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Ben is still laughing as they follow Maggie outside and pile into his SUV.

* * *

Langley is busier on Saturday afternoon than it was late Thursday night. Ben makes a loop around the block before finding a place to park in the public lot on Second.

Hopping out of the car with the help of Gil’s hand, Maggie lists the options for lunch. Everyone votes for Village Pizzeria and sitting outside.

“As long as we don’t get the pesto or anything with fresh garlic,” Maggie agrees. “Those combinations are deadly.”

“Only if you plan on kissing someone.” Selah teases. “You’ll be fine if Gil eats it, too,” she says more quietly so only Maggie can hear.

“Hush.” Maggie pinches her arm lightly.

“Ouch! Woman, quit pinching my arm!” Selah causes a stir.

“Why are you pinching Selah?” Gil eyes them both.

“No other reason than she probably deserved it for something.” Maggie smirks at Selah.

Selah huffs and rubs her arm as they enter the garden of the pizzeria. Located at the edge of the bluff, it has a fantastic view of Saratoga Passage and Camano Island beyond. The smell of garlic and baking dough wafts out from the open kitchen windows.

Despite the crowded garden, they grab a table being vacated by a family. Pizza and salads are ordered along with a pitcher of beer and two white wine spritzers.

“This is a gorgeous place to live, Maggie,” Ryan says. “I can understand why you ran away here, never to return. You seem lighter now. Dare I say, happier?”

“I didn’t exactly run away. But thank you, I do love it here.” Smiling at his observation about her mood, she admits, “And I am feeling happier this weekend.”

“It doesn’t quite feel real. I didn’t see a single familiar sign or business on the drive from the ferry to the cabin, except the Dairy Queen,” Ryan continues.

“That’s because there aren’t any chains or franchises on the south end of the island,” Maggie explains. “There’s a Walmart and all the chain fast food places up in Oak Harbor, but down here, we keep things local as much as we can.”

“Wow. I knew there was something odd about not passing at least one Starbucks,” Ryan says.

“Speaking of coffee, they have these coffee huts here manned by hot guys instead,” Quinn excitedly tells Ryan. “Maggie was telling me all about Jack and his hut the other day.”

She laughs at Quinn’s exuberance. “First, his name is Jonah. Second, not sure he’s hot or your type. Third, we can stop on our way home and get a coffee so everyone can experience the joy of the hut.”

“Jonah, Jack. Same thing. Maggie was trying to throw us together, but I told her I only have eyes for you.” Quinn grabs Ryan’s forearm.

“Q, I’ve met you before.” Ryan squeezes Quinn’s hand on his arm. “You have eyes. We’re married, not dead. And, maybe Jonah is my type.”

“You two seem really good together. It’s a little weird to think of crazy Quinn as married, but I can see this relationship works. It’s nice to see Quinn settled down and happy,” Gil says, smiling at the men.

“Thanks, G. I’m glad you’re finally getting to meet each other.” Quinn returns Gil’s smile.

Their drinks arrive and after pouring the beers, Gil raises his glass in a toast. “To Q and Ryan.”

“To happiness,” Ryan adds.

“To old friends.” Quinn raises his glass

“To good friends.” Maggie toasts, looking at Gil, who winks at her.

“To good sex.” Selah finishes the round of toasts. 

“To good sex,” they repeat as Maggie keeps her eyes locked with Gil’s.

* * *

Bellies full of pizza and beer, the guys head into the Star Store to buy steak and other supplies for the night’s dinner. Waving them off, Selah and Maggie wander toward the antique store.

Inside the store, Selah points to a stuffed squirrel on a high shelf. “You should get that for your desk to keep you company.”

“A stuffed squirrel? Are you out of your mind?” Maggie snickers. “First, Biscuit would probably eat it, and second, yuck. Dead animal.”

“But he is so charming and lifelike.” Selah teases as she wanders further into the narrow aisles of the shop.

“Keyword being the like after life. No and no.” Maggie shakes her head.

Selah finds a box of old, yellowed, frayed laces. “Remind you of our conversation from earlier?” She laughs, holding up a particularly old looking piece of lace in front of her waist.

Maggie laughs with her. “Such a lovely image. Miss Havisham would be an excellent, yet tragically sad, Halloween costume for me.” 

“Perfect for you. I usually go as Frida Kahlo, as you know.” Selah puts the lace back in its box.