One Lucky Bastard (8 page)

“Argh!” He squeezed his eyes shut and let the warmth burn away the knot in his stomach.

He mourned the loss of finding someone so perfect for him and sending her away. He damned the way she wasn’t able to give up her independence and rely on him, to trust him. Lifting the bottle, he drank a healthier dose. He closed his eyes for a moment and wished for numbness to wash over him.

It didn’t come. It never would. He’d lost her.

Sitting in the same position on the edge of the bed, he chugged back another swallow, grimaced, and hung his head. “Damn her.”

Chapter Ten

Debbie languished in bed, half caught up in an erotic dream involving Mick, and wondering what the hell was making that banging noise. She threw off her covers, grabbed her robe, and marched out to the living room.

Juanita and Barb stood in the kitchen talking to Doreen, and Ali, who taught down at the preschool with them. She frowned. “What’s going on, guys? A little early to wake someone up, huh?”

“Sorry!” Juanita threw her arm around Doreen. “We just got home, and I had this wonderful idea to make my best friends in the whole wide freaking world pancakes for breakfast.” She let go of Doreen and hurried over to Debbie. “That.” She poked Debbie in the chest. “Includes.” Juanita grabbed her cheeks and kissed her full on the lips. “You!”

“You’re drunk.” Debbie wiggled away.

“Why…yes, I am.” Juanita swayed back into the kitchen.

Debbie plopped down on the sofa and rubbed her hands over her face. She might as well stay up. No way would she get back to sleep now.

Laying her head back, she turned her neck from one side to the other, straightened with a jerk, and came off the couch. “Oh my God. What time is it?”

She hurried over to read the clock on the oven. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Barb caught her arm, stopping her.

“I’ve got to go find Mick.” She yanked her arm away and scurried into the bedroom. “I’m going to tell him I’m sorry,” she yelled.

A round of cheers broke out in the other room. Debbie dressed, grabbed her purse, and headed back out to the living room to find her boots. She didn’t want to go another day without Mick, and the sooner she begged him to take her back, the better.

“Here!” Juanita handed her boots to her and pushed her down on the sofa.

Barb sat down on the couch beside her, grabbed her leg, and helped her pull one of her boots on. “You’ve finally come to your senses.” She patted Debbie’s leg. “You go, girlfriend.”

Debbie paused and turned to her friend. “What do you mean? It seemed like you only tolerated him for my benefit and were against our relationship from the start. Remember all the old-person jokes you threw my way?”

Her friend’s scoffed. “Are you crazy?” Barb leaned over and bumped her with her shoulder. “We like Mick well enough, but more important, he made you happy, so he can’t be that bad of a guy. You can’t fault your friends for trying to convert you to younger men, can you?”

“Yeah, for a senior citizen and AARP member, he’s decent.” Juanita grinned. “It’s not like you
have
to stay home with him when we all go out. You’re strong enough to push his wheelchair so he can come dancing with us too.”

“You guys are pathetic when you’ve been drinking.” Deb wrinkled her nose. “It sure would have been easier”—she paused to tuck in her shirt—”if you had told me how you really felt earlier into the relationship. I thought you guys believed he was a pervert.”

A chorus of nos filled the room. She swallowed. “I’ve been stupid.”

“No. You’ve been human. Now go get your man.” Barb pushed her toward the door.

“Here’s your purse.” Doreen held out the oversize bag. “Good luck.”

She laid a hand on her stomach. “Oh God. What if he doesn’t take me back? What if I totally blew it and he tells me to go away? I was a major jerk.” She paced in front of her friends. “Immature, selfish, spoiled, angry—”

“You love him.” Juanita folded her arms across her stomach, and her face tightened. “I’m suddenly not feeling too well either.”

Barb stood up and wrapped her arm around Juanita. “Go, Deb. Tell him you love him. He won’t be able to turn you away. You’re irresistible.” She glanced down at Juanita, who gagged. “Ugh, we’ll take care of her. Go. Go.”

Fifteen minutes later she pulled up to Mick’s house. All the lights were out, and the drapes pulled. Maybe she should have called him first. She tapped her hand against the steering wheel. No. If she stood on his doorstep and refused to leave until he heard her out, he’d have to listen to what she had to say.

Before she lost her nerve, she left her vehicle and ran through the rain to the front door. She pushed the doorbell, shook the drops from her hair, and took a deep breath. The chime of the bell sounded inside.

Debbie shifted back and forth on her feet. “Come on. Come on. Answer the door.”

She mentally counted to thirty and rang the bell again. What if he looked out one of the windows, spied her car, and refused to come to the door? No, he wouldn’t. Would he?

She rifled through her purse in search of the key chain with a gold heart that Mick gave her the night she moved in. She’d forgotten to return the house key when she left. Her hands shook, and she struggled to fit the key in the lock.

“Mick?” She peeked inside the house. “Mick?” she yelled a little louder, pushing the door open and stepping into the foyer.

Not a sound filled the house. Running up the steps, she headed toward the bathroom, thinking she might have caught him in the shower. If that was the case, she’d go back out to her car and wait.

Not finding Mick in the bathroom, she left the bedroom. She forced her feet to carry her back downstairs and out to her car. He’d never gone to the office on a weekend when she lived with him.

“Think, Deb.” She sat down behind the steering wheel. “Where would he go?” She snorted. “God! Listen to me. I’ve gone insane, talking to myself, and my love for him has turned me into a stalker.”

Debbie started the car, shifted the gear into drive and stopped. Returning the lever to the park position, she knew exactly how to find him. “Yes!”

She grabbed her cell phone and pushed the button for Mick’s office. She inhaled deeply and hoped this was one of the weekends his secretary was working.

“Hello?” She sat up straighter. “Yes. Hello, may I speak with Mick Reed, please? It’s urgent that I get to speak with him today.” She forced herself to listen to the woman’s answer, thanked her, and threw the phone onto the passenger seat.
Dammit.

Mick planned to depart up the coast to his business meeting today. With no idea if he’d left or not, she pulled the shifter back into drive, floored the gas pedal, and headed for the marina.
Please, please be there, Mick.

* * *

The waves crashed against the side of the yacht, and Mick’s body rolled back and forth on the bed. He grabbed the bedspread to stop the nauseating motion, but even moving that much killed his head. How much had he drunk, anyway?

He lifted his head and squinted around the room in search of the whiskey bottle. Spying it on the chair, he groaned. Not a drop remained.

The blast from an air horn sent him hurtling to his feet. He pressed his body against the cabinet and willed the bottom of his stomach to settle down. He’d slept too long. The fishing boats were already sailing out to sea.

Working his way across the room, he braced himself against the counter and set about making a pot of coffee. Deciding a shower would help the hangover, he squeezed himself into the cubbyhole of a bathroom and turned on the water.

Mick stepped into the shower stall without waiting for the hot water to arrive. Having to settle with using contained water on the yacht to bathe with, he could only afford to get wet, lather, rinse, and jump back out before the water turned cold.

He turned on the forced-air heater and stood naked in front of the coffeemaker to air-dry while counting the minutes for the coffee to finish dripping. Debbie always brought him a cup of coffee in the morning because she knew how he hated to wait.

The warm air took the chill out of the room, and he leaned over to grab a mug out of the rack. When he removed the pot, several drops of coffee spilled onto the hot plate causing the liquid to sizzle. The stench of burned coffee reached his nose.

He lifted the cup to his lips, sipped, and flinched at the way the heat stung his mouth. The liquid gold soothed his body and gave him enough oomph to get dressed. He’d have to get his ass in gear if he planned to shove off this morning.

After donning his rain gear, he climbed up the steps to the top deck and jumped down onto the dock. In quick order, he unwound the ropes securing the yacht in place and tossed them on board. Not trusting the slick dock, he stretched his leg across the span of the churning water to climb back on board the yacht.

“Mick! Stop!”

He turned his head, missed getting his foot on the ladder, and tumbled backward. He waved his arms in the air, searching for something to grab, but he came up empty. The water sucked him into its cold, dark abyss.

Weighed down in his clothes and rain gear, he fought to get his head above the surface. Gasping that first big lungful of air buoyed his spirits, and he swam the ten yards to where the yacht floated off on its own.

Chilled to the bone, his head pounded, his legs dragged, and it took all his strength to pull himself out of the water and heave himself onto the deck. He lay flat on his back, the rain splattering his face, and wondered if he had really heard Debbie’s voice.

“Mick!”

He rolled over onto his hands and knees and crawled closer to the railing. Pulling himself to his feet, he peered back at the dock.
What the hell is she doing down here?

Debbie stood on the edge of the dock, holding her coat over her head. She used one hand to motion him back. His heart raced.
Shit
. He’d missed those long legs, the smile, her messy hair spread out on his pillow in the morning.

Mick limped into the covered area of the engine room, cranked the key, and gave the yacht enough gas to bring it closer to the dock. After shutting the engine off, he hurried back out on deck and picked up a coil of rope.

“Mick?” Debbie jumped up and down. “Can I talk with you? It’s important.”

He nodded. “Catch the rope and secure it to the dock.” Once he had thrown the rope to her, he walked along the rail to the opening. Waiting until she wound a figure eight around the dockside anchor with the rope, he soaked up everything about her.

Soaked to the skin, she stood on the dock with her clothes molded to her body. Those luscious breasts strained against her sweater. She chewed her bottom lip and frowned. He’d told her to leave. Why would she have come back?

She straightened and hurried over to stand beneath him. “Are you okay? I saw you go under. I was about ready to jump in and help, when I saw you climbing the ladder.” Her hand covered her heart. “God, Mick, I thought the waves had dragged you under the dock.”

“What do you want, Debbie?” He didn’t open an invitation for her to come on board. If he asked her up, he’d never be able to let her go. She wasn’t ready for a relationship. Not with him at least.

“I need to talk with you.” She swiped the rain off her face. “Can I come up? Get out of the rain?”

He nodded and held out his hand to help her up the slippery ladder.
Pussy! Where is my control? I send her out of my life, and the first time she comes back looking at me with those sad blue eyes, I cave like an adolescent.

Chapter Eleven

Mick led the way down into the bedroom. Ignoring Debbie, he headed straight to the coffeemaker to pour himself a cup, in the hopes it would warm him up. After the shitty morning he’d had, he sure in the hell hadn’t needed that dip in the fucking Pacific Ocean.

“Shit, Mick. You need to get out of those clothes. You can hardly walk because you’re shaking so hard.” Debbie pulled the back of his raincoat off his shoulders.

“Coffee.” He pulled his arms free of the sleeves. “Need coffee.”

“I’ll pour you a cup. Get the rest of your clothes off, crawl into bed, and cover up.” She pushed him away from the pot. “What happened, anyway? Did you slip off the ladder?”

Mick peeled his shirt off. “No.” He worked the wet jeans and rain pants past his butt, sat down on the bed, and pulled them off his legs. “I heard you.”

“Oh shit.” She handed over a hot cup of coffee. “I’m sorry.” Debbie wrapped her arms around her waist. “I really am so sorry.”

“Turn that heater on there, will you?” He drank a sip from the mug. “Need to get warm.”

He closed his eyes and let the heat blow over his chilled body. Exhausted, he could barely talk, much less form an opinion about why Debbie would show up at the yacht.

A blanket landed over his shoulders, and he opened his eyes. She tucked the ends around him and lingered with her hand on his shoulders. His cock twitched. Half-drowned and Mickey couldn’t resist the soft touch of her hand.

“Mick?” Debbie sat down beside him. “I missed you.”

He glanced over and sighed. “I’ve missed you too, but that doesn’t change the fact that you aren’t ready to handle a relationship with an older man. No matter how much you think you are.”

Debbie’s chin dropped. “I know that.” She shook her head. “God, Mick, the last week has been the worst seven days of my life.” Slapping her leg, she scooted to face him better. “I realized that my problem wasn’t with the thought of my friends not liking you or our age difference. It wasn’t even about everyone judging our relationship. It was because of all
my
insecurities.” She tapped her chest and continued. “Mine.”

“I’ve never fit in with my friends. I love them to pieces, but our interests are totally different. For some strange reason, I thought once I found the love of my life, I would be accepted into the fold instead of standing outside the circle all the time when they go out on dates or bring their boyfriends along.” She snorted. “I’ve been so foolish. I learned that none of that matters. Losing you…”

“Tell me.”