Kingdom by the Sea (Romantic Suspense) (18 page)

“Well,
he was on his way somewhere,” Nicole argued, trying not to sound defensive. 
“It's not like he went out on the water to fish and ruminate over his lost
youth.” 

Even
the most rudimentary references to Hemingway were sure to leave Trevor
disengaged.  But Cameron plowed on.  “On his way to
Nantucket
.  Right, sure. 
But who does that?”

Trevor
cut in then, taking a gentler approach, sounding more diplomatic than
confrontational.  “Think about it, Nic.  What regular, decent-looking guy in
his twenties goes on a vacation alone?  No way.  He'd go away with a girl or
maybe with his buddies.  And he'd go in the summer when there's some action
around here.  Not in the middle of October when the
Cape
's a wasteland.”

“And
what's up with the shaved head?” Cameron blurted.  Trevor slanted him a
questioning look; obviously the shaved head had not been on their list of
talking points.  “I'm just saying,” Cameron protested mildly.  “It's like,
you're
a bad-ass, buddy, we get it
.”

Frustrated
and upset, Nicole swallowed down a sharp lump in her throat.  She was hardly in
a position to argue with them since she didn't know all that much about Michael
herself.  Only what he'd told her.  And before her friends had come, that had
been enough.

Finally
she said, “You guys always do this!”

“Huh?”

“You
never like anyone I like.  I mean—not that I like him romantically or
anything—but just in general.”

“That's
not true,” Trevor said.

“Yes
it is.  I can't win with you two.  You always make fun of me because I have no
dating life and you say how maybe I like a guy a year.  You tell me I'm a
'buttoned up librarian.'  But then when I
do
like someone, you find a
bunch of flaws.”

“I
never called you a 'buttoned up librarian,'” Cameron said.  “Maybe I've called
you a hermit.”

“Maybe?”

“
I'm
the one who calls you a buttoned up librarian,” Trevor pointed out.  “But
that's because buttoned up librarians are hot.”

“The
point is: this is not the first time this has happened.” 

“So
you
do
like him then?” Cameron pressed.

“What
other time have we found flaws, Nic?” Trevor asked, a curious kind of half grin
playing on his lips.  “Wait—you mean—Dilbert?”

“Yes,”
she said, “that's exactly what I mean.  Good example.”  'Dilbert' had been the
moniker Trevor and Cameron had assigned to a guy named Dylan, whom Nicole had
dated briefly last year.  Of course they were decent to his face, but in
reality, they hadn't liked his jokes, his look or the fact that, according to
them, 'Dilbert' could never be good enough for her.

Holding
back a laugh now, Trevor rolled his eyes.  “C'mon, Nic, that guy was a tool.”

“Again—
not
the point
.”

“Wait—have
you hooked up with Michael?” Cameron said then.  When Nicole's eyes met his,
she felt his gaze burn into hers.  “I don't see why you're getting so upset
unless—”

“No,
no, nothing like that!  I'm just saying...”  She sighed, collected her
emotion.  “I know you guys try to protect me, but you don't always give people
a chance.  That's all.”

“Okay,
okay,” Trevor said, raising his hands, palms out in surrender.  “Just be careful. 
That's all we're saying.”

It
was all, Nicole knew.  But it was a lot. 

***

On
the road, Cameron drummed his fingers on his door handle, staring out the
window.  He hadn't said more than a word here, a word there since they'd left
Nicole's place and Trevor knew the scenery just wasn't that interesting.  As it
was, Cameron had agreed to let Trevor drive, which was already out of
character.

“Dude,
I'd say you're being quiet—but actually you're being noisy as hell—would you
stop that?”

“Huh?” 
Cameron looked blankly at him.  Then he glanced down at his own hand,
realizing, and stopped tapping.  “Oh.  Sorry.”  He went back to looking out the
window. 

“What's
your problem?” Trevor said after a few moments passed.

“Nothing,
what do you mean?”

“You
seem pissed or something.”

“I'm
not pissed.  Why would I be pissed?” he scoffed, and then started drumming
again. 

“Okay...”

“I'm
just kind of worried about Nicole,” Cameron said finally.  “It's unbelievable
how naive she can be.”

“Oh. 
Yeah, I know what you mean, but she'll be fine.”

“She's
too trusting.  I don't think she should be out there all alone.”

“She's
twenty-seven,” Trevor said with a short laugh.  “That may be younger than our
asses, but it's not ward-of-the-state material.”

“But
she's clueless!”  Clearly exasperated, Cameron shook his head.

“You're
exaggerating.  Nic's smart; she can take care of herself.”  With a swift tug of
the wheel, Trevor slid into the next lane and passed a crawling car to their
right.  What the hell, he would say his piece, that was all he could do. 
“Listen—you're not thinking of trying to get back together with her, are you?”

“What! 
No way.  That’s not it at all.”

“Okay,
good.  Because, no offense, but that would be a total disaster.”

“Right...I
know…”  But he didn’t sound that certain.

“I
know you and she are tight—and I love her to death—but the two of you
together?  That's a train wreck right there.”

“Come
on, I wouldn't go
that
far.”

“Remember
how you guys used to bicker about
everything
?  It was so different when
you dated than how it is now.”

“We
were young.”

“She
was.”  That got him a glare.  “Seriously, though…not you and Nic...”

“All
right already,” Cameron barked.  “Jeez.  I wasn't even thinking along those
lines.”

After
her friends left, Nicole took Puddle inside and went to the kitchen to pour
some coffee.  She was one of those unchangeable people who loved Christmas mugs
all year around.  In cataloging, she’d found a collection of holiday plates and
cups, and developed an instant affinity for a chunky ceramic mug that had
hand-painted snow and evergreens covered in colored bulbs. 

Each
morning, Nicole gave it a cursory rinse before she filled it.  Today she barely
had time to rinse it, much less savor its cutesiness, because she had to meet
Abel Kelling at the Squire at
noon
. 

Still
toting her dog around, she drank her coffee on the way to the bathroom
upstairs.  She set the mug on the vanity and Puddle down on the soft rug that
stripped across the tile floor.  Once Puddle was curled into a sleepy ball,
Nicole stepped into a hot shower. 
The dog shouldn't be that tired
, she
thought as she washed her hair with a rough kind of vigor.
 Could something
be wrong? 
But Puddle's nose had been cold, which meant no fever—didn't
it?  She didn't know much about dogs yet, but she was pretty sure that a cold
wet nose was a good thing.

Maybe—prior
to being rescued—Puddle had been abused or traumatized in some way.  Could that
be what was making her withdrawn? 
I'll spend time with her when I get back,
Nicole reasoned.
 I'll make her comfortable, make her feel loved..

Twenty
minutes later, she was blow-drying her hair and slipping on thick wool socks. 
It was only October but the biting chill outside felt more like a prelude to
winter than a tribute to autumn.  Once she transported Puddle to her dog bed in
the kitchen, Nicole filled a bowl of fresh water and set it down in the
corner. 

There
was a knock at the back door. 

When
Michael greeted her so naturally, so easily, the warnings of Cameron and Trevor
drifted away. 

“I
came by to hit you up for some coffee,” he said.  “Your coffee is better than
mine.  In that it exists.”

She
laughed.  “So you didn't make any, in other words?”  When she handed him a mug,
Michael smirked at the artwork.  “A pink bunny in a Santa suit.  Not the most
masculine thing I've ever used—but thanks.   Got any milk?”

“Yes,
of course...”  As soon as she opened the refrigerator door, she discovered that
something was amiss.  No cold air puffed out.  She reached in and felt the
milk.  “Hey, wait...this is warm...why is this warm?”  Confused, she pulled out
the jug, which was really more room temperature than warm.  

Michael
set his coffee down on the island and came closer.  “Let me see...excuse me,”
he said, his voice dropping just a bit as he came closer, right next to her,
and then reached beyond her—to reach inside.  Nicole edged back an inch or two,
pressing her back into the open refrigerator door.  She was acutely aware of
how close Michael was to her right now.  He leaned in deeper, his chest almost
touching hers, reaching toward the very back of the refrigerator.  “Oh—you've
got a problem here,” he said.

“I
do?  What?” 

“Your
cooling system is busted,” he said. 

“Well...can
it be fixed?”

“Yes,
of course.”  Michael straightened and turned so he was facing her.  Now he was
almost flush up against her.  As Nicole looked up at him and he looked down,
their eyes met and locked for a moment.  He hesitated, as though he were
considering something, as his eyes traveled over her face.  From her eyes to
her mouth. 

After
a momentary pause, he stepped back.

“Um...”
Nicole said, finding her voice.  “Let me rephrase that: can it be fixed by
you?”

Unabashedly,
he smiled.  “Not to sound arrogant,” he began, “but if it's mechanical at all, I
can probably fix it.”

Just
then, the clock on the wall
gong
ed.  “Shoot, it's
twelve o'clock
!  I'm late!  I
have to go meet Abel for lunch.  Listen, can you come by later, I mean when I
get back?  Do you mind?”

“I
don't mind.  However I should warn you, all your food will probably be spoiled
by then.  Just so you're aware.” 

“Really? 
I should only be a couple hours, at most...”

“True,
but it's already warm,” he explained, motioning to the refrigerator with his
head. 

“Right...good
point...”  Biting her lip, she checked the clock again.  If she took Nina's
bicycle, she could make it to the Squire by
12:15
.  She didn't
have time to deliberate much longer on this whole refrigerator snag. 

Michael
said, “Based on how it felt, I'd guess that the coolant ran out several hours
ago.  We've still got a window to save everything, but I'd have to fix it now. 
Your call.”  Considering her options, Nicole looked around as though the
trappings of the room would supply an answer. 

Then
she looked at Michael and saw his neutral expression.  His casual stance.  She
recalled the way he had saved her life on the beach, and all the laughs and
dinners they had shared since.  This was a man who read books and made chili. 
Surely she could trust him.

 “Okay,”
she agreed finally.  “Could you do it now, then?  I really have to run.  Just
lock up when you leave, okay?  Don't worry about setting the alarm and all
that; just turn the lock on the back door when you go.”

“Sure,
no problem.”

“I'll
be back soon anyway.”  She went to grab her jacket, then shrugged it on. 
“Actually it might be just as well, because I'm kind of worried about Puddle. 
I think she's depressed maybe.  I'd hate to leave her all alone for too long.”

“I'll
hang out with her, no worries.”

With
relief, Nicole sighed.  “Thanks, Michael.  You're really helping me out.  I'd
say that I owe you...but I know how uncomfortable you are with praise,” she
finished with a bright, sardonic smile.

“See
you later,” he said, smiling back.

As
soon as the door closed, Michael sprung into action. 

First,
he reached behind the refrigerator and screwed in the tiny pipe he'd loosened
the night before.  Nina Corday’s fridge was an older model, and not a complicated
one.  Michael had managed to get the timing right (if he had simply unplugged
the refrigerator, the light would’ve been out and Nicole might have realized
something was wrong way too soon).

He
pulled a white cloth from his pocket and wet it with warm water. 

Quickly
he went to the foyer.  He checked through the narrow window by the front door
to make sure Nicole had past the sidewalk.  Soon he spotted her careening down
Orchard Street
on a blue
bicycle.  Michael turned back around, determined.  Paused, glanced up the
stairs, then behind the stairs—where he knew was the library and Nina Corday’s
art studio.

Studio
first.

Just
as he reached the closed door, he heard a noise.  It was like a creaking, and
Michael paused to listen.  He waited.  There it was again.  Squinting, he
strained to hear, because the sound was so faint now, one could miss it
altogether.