Sultry Sunset (4 page)

Normally after breakfast she did the dishes while I took a shower, and then I called the store and checked in while she showered. Together we left my house, walked to hers, opened it up so it could air out during the day, and then she took Benny and did something, either met up with a new group of friends at the beach, went for a bike ride, went to Wick and Wand and visited Sophia, went to the movies—where Benny was also allowed—or tagged along with me to the construction site. She would have done the latter most every day because, as she said, she enjoyed watching Leya and Oren “go at it.”

The mayor of Mangrove and the owner of the only construction company in town were going to kill each other. Ivy was certain they were madly in love, but I did not actually live in a romantic comedy, so I knew that it was just a matter of time before their story would be on one of those true-crime shows on primetime.

As the mayor, Oren Adler wanted to know what was going on with everything. Most people found his interest sometimes annoying but mostly benign. Leya Naidu found him insufferable, and because he was also the richest man in town, she refused, on principle, to do anything he asked. Ever.

He asked if the community center could have more of a Shingle Style look when it was redone so it would match the buildings downtown, but she and I had agreed on a French Colonial style, and even if I had been fine with changing it, she was not. I just stood there watching them yell at each other, like it was a tennis match.

That was the first of many battles that raged between them, from her having his car towed to him having her office rezoned so she needed all new paperwork refiled before she could even enter her building, from his parking lot repaved around his car to her house declared a biohazard area by the health inspector. I told both that they needed to be grownups. His priority was the total aesthetic of the downtown area. Her priority was to deliver on her promise to her customers. It was exhausting just being around them.

“Seriously,” Ivy simpered, just besotted with them. “When they kiss, it’s gonna be epic.”

I groaned and took her for ice cream at Sprinkles On Top. Her favorite flavor was chocolate swirled with macadamia nuts and fudge. Then after our midmorning ice-cream social, I went to the store to check in with Mike.

“So how many pools will the new—is it a rec center or a community center?” Mike asked as we walked the store together.

He had a point. It would be a place where seniors could take dance lessons and teenagers could cluster, and where mothers could bring their children for playdates. Classes would take place morning, noon, and night; there would be a dojo and two Olympic-size pools, plus rooms for dance like ballet with the barre installed and one with a stage where performances could be put on. I was excited about what the center would be once it was completed, and I looked forward to hiring a staff, but what I was actually going to call it was still sort of morphing in my head.

“Hutch?”

“I have to think about that.”

He chuckled.

“What?”

“Nothing. You guys want burgers or chicken or kebabs tonight?”

“Oh, are you grilling?”

“Yeah. You and Ivy have to make sides, but I need to know what you want.”

“Kebabs,” I answered, turning to actually look at him and not simply have a conversation as we walked.

“Why am I being scrutinized?”

“I just realized something.”

“Which is?”

“Since I met you, we’ve only had two dinners apart.”

Mike stopped moving. “Is that right?”

“Yeah. Once when your parents came to visit and once when I went out on that date with Coz,” I recounted.

“You can’t count that as a date,” he instructed me quickly. “You were home like a half an hour later.”

True. I had returned and was making myself a roast beef sandwich when Mike came through the back door and into my kitchen. He helped himself to a beer and then took a seat on one of my barstools and waited for me to explain.

“Coz and Kelly finally got their shit together.”

He smiled as he sipped the Corona in his hand. “That’s good.”

“So it won’t be me and the officer.”

Mike snorted out a laugh. “It was never going to be.”

And he was right; I had just needed the diversion and had hoped to get laid. “Hey, did you see there’s a new lawyer in town?”

He waggled his eyebrows before he asked me to make him a sandwich too.

“Which?”

I came back to the present and gave him all my attention. “What?”

“I said, you should make either basmati rice or we can cook potatoes on the grill. Which one do you want?”

“Potatoes,” I told him.

He pointed. “Go to Produce and pick them up. I’ll be home around five thirty; I have to stop by and see Mia Renaldi about my wife’s life insurance policy.”

I instantly took hold of his shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh yeah, fine,” he said softly, his copper-colored gaze meeting mine. “My wife had taken out a policy that I didn’t know about because she used a different lawyer than our regular one. Her folks want the money, but I want to give it in Janey’s name to the hospital where they did everything they could to save her.”

“I don’t understand. Aren’t you the beneficiary?”

He nodded. “I am unless I can be proven unfit, and they think that traveling around for two years after Janey died shows that I’m a nut job.”

“Are you serious?” I asked hotly, suddenly angry. “How dare they question your grief for their daughter? That’s sick!”

Mike shrugged.

“No, really! How long did they grieve?” I yelled.

Taking hold of my bicep, he tugged me close and put his hand on the side of my neck. “You never get upset.”

He was right. I was normally very steady, but that was more a product of not caring about a lot of things than of being meditative. He was the difference here, and about Mike Rojas, I cared a great deal. He had become very important to me, very quickly. Even though we’d known each other only a year, it felt as though it had been a lifetime. I would find myself talking to him about things I was sure he knew about, only to have him remark that whatever it was had happened two years ago or ten or even longer. I recounted talking to other people and I’d be certain we’d both heard the same conversation. Mike would smile, shake his head, and prod me to tell him the story.

“They—shouldn’t question your love,” I said, suddenly breathless.

His gaze was warm as he looked at me before he pulled me into a hug. I inhaled deeply because he always smelled so good. There was mint in the soap he used, and somehow the mix on him, his skin specifically, clean, male, always caused the same reaction—I wanted to breathe him in.

As usual, the second I felt the now-familiar yearning to keep him, I squashed down the feeling as fast as I could. Not only was he my friend, but he was my very straight friend, and that half second when my heart stopped because he was holding me was time I spent first scolding myself and then doing the gentle reminding of the gaping hole he’d leave behind in my life if I did anything to push him away. I’d never had a best friend before him; I certainly wasn’t going back to not having one, especially when it would be me trying to create something out of thin air.

“I’ll be fine, but I appreciate the worry,” he rumbled into my hair. He let me go and I moved quickly, not wanting to ever make him uncomfortable with any kind of closeness.

“Okay,” I responded.

“I’ll see you at home later,” he said before he walked away, but somehow when he turned around, almost at the front door, I was still watching him.

His wave made me self-conscious, like I was standing there staring as I would have if he was my lover. Correcting fast, I spun around to go grab what we needed for dinner.

MIKE WAS
outside at the grill, and Ivy and I had the music up in the house, so neither of us heard anything until I dipped her and we looked up. Her father stood there at the back door with a woman I assumed was her aunt.

“What’s going on here?” the woman asked over The Spinners.

Ivy cracked up, and I put her on her feet before she dashed across the kitchen to her father. I turned down the music with the remote.

“Daddy!” she squealed, leaping at him.

He caught her in his arms and hugged her, his face down in her shoulder. They held each other so tight, and the woman who had come through my door ready to do battle visibly deflated.

“Everybody ready to eat?” Mike announced as he walked in behind them, carrying a platter of kebabs. “We’ve got steak and chicken and lots of veggies.”

Mr. Dodd put his daughter down, and she wiped her eyes quickly before grabbing her aunt, who was stunned at the reception as evidenced by her gasp and open mouth.

Ivy hugged her too, kissed her cheek, and then took her hand and pulled her over to me. “This is Hutch and Mike.”

Genevieve Davis was a tall, stately woman immaculately dressed in a white-and-silver overcoat, a sheer white T-shirt, and white palazzo pants. The jewelry was understated, as was her makeup. She was a stunning woman.

“Hi,” I greeted her cheerfully, offering her my hand.

She grabbed hold, clearly still overwhelmed by the reception from her niece.

“And Hutch, this is my dad.”

I turned to Mr. Dodd and was not surprised to find him even more handsome in real life than he was on Ivy’s phone. The man also was massive. He was at least six four, broad shouldered, narrow hipped, with muscular legs straining against the denim encasing them. His features were sharp, as was his square jaw, but what you noticed first was his eyes, a gorgeous dark bistre, so brown they were almost black.

“Pleasure,” I said, smiling, holding out my hand. “It was a privilege to take care of your daughter. Thank you for trusting me and Mike.”

“I didn’t do anything but cook,” Mike let me know, pressing in beside me, one hand on the small of my back as he offered his right to Mr. Dodd.

He shook both our hands, and he, too, looked a bit flummoxed.

“Sit down,” Ivy directed her father and aunt as my dog came in from outside and bolted over to her side. “Oh, Daddy, this is Benny. Isn’t he pretty?”

Her father dutifully petted my dog before meeting her gaze. “We should go, honey,” he said. “We don’t want to intrude.”

“Oh, you’re not intruding,” she said dismissively, giving him an imperious wave of her hand. “But you both probably want to wash your hands and stuff, so if you go down the hall to your left, it’s right through there.”

Genevieve left to use my bathroom, Ivy ran back outside where Mike sent her to grab the second plate of kebabs, but her dad stayed there and washed his hands in the kitchen sink before turning to me.

“So I don’t think I ever—would you both please call me Essien?”

“I don’t know.” I scowled at him. “Chief Dodd sort of rolls off the tongue.”

His smile was bright like his daughter’s. “It’s wonderful to meet you both. I’m sorry my daughter’s invaded your home, but I so appreciate you taking care of her.”

“She hasn’t been any trouble at all,” I assured him. “She’s an angel.”

“Thank you.”

“All she’s been talking about night and day are all the things she’s looking forward to doing to your home. After being here with me she’s ready to start decorating.”

“Is she?”

I chuckled. “She’s taking a little bit of my style and none of Mike’s and—”

“Pardon me?” Mike chimed in.

“What?”

“None of mine?” He was indignant.

I gestured toward the guesthouse. “What is there to take from that? You haven’t done anything to it since you moved in.”

“I was supposed to do something?”

“Yeah. You were supposed to make it your own.”

“Really?”

I shook my head.

“Wait,” Essien interrupted. “I thought you two were together.”

I scoffed. “No, we’re not a couple. Did Ivy say we were?”

“No, but I… I just got that impression from things she said.”

“Huh,” Mike grunted.

“Well, for the record, Mike lives in my guesthouse and we work together at the Green Grocer.”

“Oh,” Essien said, clearly embarrassed, nodding as Mike smiled at him.

“We only sound like an old married couple,” I explained.

“That’s right,” Mike agreed, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Now finish setting the table, honey. We have guests.”

I laughed and so did Essien, and when Genevieve came back and Ivy walked in with Benny in tow—since he followed her everywhere—it was time to sit down and eat.

It was funny to watch Essien and Genevieve look at Ivy like she had grown another head. They were both clearly amazed, but I had no idea why. She chatted, keeping up a steady stream of conversation as she explained about her talk with the soccer coach and how she had a tryout with the team as soon as school started.

Genevieve tried to bring up the idea of Ivy visiting her in Philadelphia, but her niece simply shut her down over and over.

“You should just plan on coming here,” she told her aunt. “I mean, hello, Florida.”

There was really no argument.

After dinner, Mike gave Essien his second beer and walked him around my—our—property. Technically it was mine, but Mike lived there and he was in and out of my house all the time, had a key—as I did for his place, of course—so it seemed strange to say mine when he was a fixture there. As Ivy and I cleaned up, Genevieve talked to us.

“Hutch,” Ivy said as she moved up on my left, watching Mike and her dad outside. “Do you realize that both my dad and Mike have lost a wife? Isn’t that sad?”

It was.

“Maybe they’ll get to be friends.”

And while I hoped they did—I wanted Essien to be happy in Mangrove—I had an unfamiliar twinge in my chest while watching the two men talk in the backyard, and I didn’t like it at all.

OVER THE
next couple of months, I enjoyed seeing Ivy settle into her life in Mangrove, was pleased that her aunt left feeling secure that she was happy, and tried to keep track of the number of dates Mike went on. It was like the mourning period had officially ended and he was making up for lost time or something.