That Thing You Do (Whispering Bay Romance Book 1) (Volume 1) (8 page)

“Four months.” He looked so miserable that Allie wanted to put her arms around him and tell him everything would be okay. But it wasn’t going to be okay. It was never going to be okay again.

Tears welled in her eyes. “Do you love her?”

He hesitated, then for the first time tonight, met her gaze square on. “Yeah, I guess a part of me does.”

“A
part
of you? Let me guess which part. Captain Fucking Crunch, that’s just peachy.”

He flinched. “I don’t blame you for hating me.”

Hate him? She didn’t hate him. She…
Oh, God
. When she thought about all the things
she’d let him do to her. And all the things she’d
wanted
him to do her. Her face felt like it was on fire. How could she have been so stupid? He was getting married because he’d knocked up Lauren Handy. If the whole thing wasn’t so ridiculous, she would have laughed.

Anger oozed like a river of lava through every vein in her body. She wanted to yell at him. To tell him to go fuck off. But
somewhere beneath it all, she could hear Buela’s voice telling her to hold on to her pride.

She straightened back her shoulders. She wasn’t going to ask for any more explanations. And really, what more explanation did she need? He hadn’t wanted to sleep with her, but he had no problem screwing perfect little Lauren.

“Congratulations, Tom.” He started toward her but Allie put up her
hand to ward him off, stopping him dead in his tracks. “No really, have a great life. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

*~*~*

A
nd that was the
last time she’d seen Tom Donalan. Until last night.

They arrived at the senior center. Mimi parked her van along the side of the road. The parking lot was abuzz with activity. There were all kinds of big machines and lots of men in
hard hats milling about, but it was still easy to spot Tom. He wasn’t the tallest or the loudest but there was an air of authority about him that made him stand out.

Allie weaved her way through the parking lot teaming with construction workers.

“Lady!” yelled a guy in a hard hat, “You can’t be here. We’re about to tear down a building.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but that’s my car
right there.” She pointed to the VW bug parked in the middle of the lot.

He looked her up and down. “So you’re the Flaky Biscuit who broke into the building last night. Boss says I’m supposed to bring you to him when you show up.”

Flaky Biscuit
?

Was that Tom’s terminology or Hard Hat’s?

She took a deep breath of the crisp gulf air and tried to stay calm.

You can do
this, Allie
. Part Three of her Life Plan depended on it.

Hard Hat escorted her to Tom, who was busy talking on the phone. In the bright sunshine Tom’s eyes looked impossibly blue. He wore snug bleached out jeans, a black T-shirt that stretched over his broad shoulders, and ankle high steel toe boots. He couldn’t have looked yummier, even in a tux.

She might be a flaky biscuit, but
she had to begrudgingly admit Tom was definitely what she’d call, a
tasty
biscuit. If you liked tall, handsome, and ridiculously stubborn. Which, thank God, she was immune to in his case.

Tom slipped his phone in the back pocket of his jeans then picked up a clipboard from a nearby makeshift table. “Thanks for coming early.”

 “Sure, no problem. I’ve got Kitty Pappas and my sister-in-law
here to help me move my car.”

“Great. I appreciate that.” Tom didn’t react to the mention of Kitty’s name, but Allie had to wonder what he thought about the fact that his boss’s wife was here. Or if he even knew that Kitty had tried to intervene on Allie’s behalf by going above his head.

She couldn’t help but think for the umpteenth time how much simpler all this would be if Steve
Pappas had just shut things down for one day. But nothing in life worth having was easy.

Tom glanced down at his clipboard, effectively dismissing her.

Okay, she got it. He was a very important person and he had work to do.

But so did she.

A trickle of perspiration ran down her spine. She didn’t have to do this. There had to be
some
other way to get this story. Unfortunately,
she just couldn’t think of one right now.

A vision of Chris Dougal sitting at his desk typing away at his big illegal immigration piece jumped into her head. Allie couldn’t begin to imagine what he did to research that but she wouldn’t put it past him to have gone undercover, big show off that he was. Ben was probably salivating at
Florida
! headquarters, waiting for Chris’s article to come
across his desk. Despite Emma’s support, Allie’s little ghost story didn’t stand a chance. Especially since there was no such thing as ghosts.

Maybe she could drive to Tallahassee and do a follow-up on Perky
.
She could see the byline now.
Perky the Duck, Three Years Later…

It sounded pathetic. But what where her choices? Too bad there wasn’t some manatee trapped in a reef somewhere.
Or a flock of endangered pelicans or some sick sea turtles to write about. Or better yet, a dolphin in trouble. People loved dolphin stories. Especially if it had a happy ending.

But no. Emma wanted a ghost story. And Emma was her chief supporter at
Florida
! so this was a no brainer. Her only other option was to bow out of the competition gracefully. But Allie had wanted this job at
Florida
! for so long and to just give up was unthinkable. She’d been stuck in the middle of Life Goal Number Two for far too long now.

She swallowed past the lump of pride swelling her throat. “Tom, do you think, maybe, I could have a word with you?”  

Hard Hat raised a brow and made a great big gurgling noise like he was about to spit out tobacco or something, which Allie certainly hoped
was not going to happen. Her stomach felt queasy enough already. “We need to get going, Boss. The guys have already had their morning coffee.”

Tom frowned, although she couldn’t tell if his displeasure was meant for Hard Hat or her. Probably her. “I’m busy, Allie. Can this wait till later?”

“I just need a minute. But it definitely can’t wait until later.”

Tom glanced at his wrist
watch. “Okay, you got one minute.” He handed the clipboard off to Hard Hat. “Do me a favor, Keith, tell the guys to be ready. I’ll meet you in front of the building as soon I’m finished here.” He placed his hand on her elbow and led her to the edge of a trailer where they were essentially hidden from the rest of the parking lot’s occupants.

“What did you want to talk about?” Tom asked.

She tried to think of something compelling, something that would convince him that delaying the teardown on the building was in everyone’s best interests, but all that came out was, “Kitty asked Steve to delay the demolition, but he says it’s all up to
you
. I know I’m asking a huge favor here, because this is your job and you’re on a tight schedule. I get that. I really do. But all I need
is one night. Just one more day so that I can spend tonight in the building and write my story.”

“Allie—”

“Don’t say no. Because I really need this. And because…because you owe me.”

She blinked.

Then he blinked.

And then no one said anything.

Because you owe me
. Talk about hitting an all-time low!

The trickle of perspiration running down her back was now
 a river. It was barely eight-thirty and already humid, but nowhere near hot enough for her to be sweating like this.

She followed Tom’s gaze to all the waiting men, at the big machines primed and ready to tear down the building. What she was asking was not only impossible, it was impractical. Expensive. And crazy. She was asking him to put his job on the line. And for what? For a girl he
knew back in high school. A girl he’d used as a rebound fling. A girl he hadn’t seen or talked to or probably even thought about in over twelve years.

He was going to laugh in her face and say no. And Allie couldn’t blame him.

“You know, I wouldn’t ask for your help if I didn’t need it.” Those words wouldn’t change anything, but at least it allowed her to save a bit of pride.

He frowned and shook his head. “What did you just say?”

Great. He was going to make this even harder for her.

“You heard me, Donalan. I need your help here.”

Instead of answering, he turned and shouted to a nearby group of workers, “Hey! Turn down the radio.”

The men all stared back with blank expressions.

Okay, that was a little freaky.

“What are you talking
about? There’s no radio,” Allie said.

He whipped around. “What do you mean? You don’t hear the music?”

“What music?”

He closed his eyes for a second and shook his head as if to clear his thoughts.  “Did you just say you need my…
help
?”

She frowned. Tom wasn’t faking this clueless routine. There had been a time when Allie could have read his mind, they’d been that close.
It might have been over a decade since she’d last seen him but no one changed that much. Maybe after all these years of working construction sites he’s gotten hit on the head one too many times by a rogue ply board.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

There were dark smudges under his eyes like he hadn’t slept well. What had he said last night? That he’d been “patrolling” the senior center?

He took off his hard hat and squinted up into the sun as if searching for something.

“Donalan, you’re kind of scaring me here. You look tired. Maybe you should go lie down.”

This seemed to pull him out of whatever trance he was in. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t seem fine, but he also seemed irritated by her questioning. “All right, so are you going to help me or not?”

 “Okay,
okay.” He threw up his hands in surrender. “You win. I’ll give you twenty-four hours.”

“You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it.” He glanced around apprehensively. After a few seconds, he let out a big breath and muttered, “Thank God.”

Allie wasn’t sure what God had to do with it. Or what had just happened. Not that she was complaining, but this sudden reversal of his seemed almost
too good to be true.

“Twenty-four hours,” Allie repeated, wanting to make sure she’d heard him right. Because honestly? Tom still looked a little disoriented. “This building is staying intact for the next twenty-four hours. You promise?”

“Yeah,” he said. “But you have to promise me something in return.”

Was he serious? She’d promise him just about anything right now. Well, almost
anything. “Name it.”

“This is it. No matter what happens. Ghost or no ghost, and I can pretty much guarantee it’s going to be no ghost, but one more day, that’s all the time I can give you because tomorrow the building comes down.”

“Sure, sure! I promise. No more delays. Twenty-four hours, that’s all the time I need. I’ll even toss the first wrecking ball myself,” she said, giddy with
relief. “So, I can go in the building now?”

“Not now,” he said, looking more like the old Tom. In control again. “I can’t let you in the building unsupervised and if I’m going to call off this demolition then I’ve got to get this crew off to another work site.”

Yikes
. Was she putting all these men out of work for the day? Her Catholic guilt tried hard not to think about that. “All
these workers? They’re still going to get paid, right?”

“Would it matter if they weren’t?” Before she could answer, he said, “We have a project going on in Mexico Beach that’s short of workers. If I can the crew out there in time then no one will lose a work day.” He stared at her hard.  “You can get in tonight at eight. Not a second before.”

“Works for me,” she said trying to sound
humble. Because despite the fact that she’d hated asking him, she was grateful that he’d capitulated. She should be ecstatic. Except… “Can I ask you a question? What made you change your mind?”

For a long time Allie didn’t think he’d answer. Then he did this twitchy thing with the corner of his mouth that she’d seen him do once, twelve years ago, when he’d lied to his mother about where
they were going. “You’re right. I owe you.”

K
itty drove Allie’s car,
while Mimi followed them in her minivan. The plan was to then drive Kitty back to The Bistro so she could get her own car. All this brouhaha because Allie couldn’t be bothered to read the back of a traffic citation. She was embarrassed by all the trouble she’d caused, but she was more stunned by what had just happened back at the senior center.

Apparently, so
was Kitty. “I can’t believe Tom postponed the demolition. I mean, that’s great for you and all, but I really got the impression…why do you think he did it?”

 “Who knows? I’m just glad he did.” As casually as she’d just answered, Allie had been racking her brain with the same exact question, but she hadn’t been able to come up with any sort of answer that made sense.

Why had Tom changed
his mind?

The only logical answer was that she had guilted Tom into giving her a break. She should probably feel ashamed for using their angsty teenage history against him. But she didn’t. Especially since she was pretty certain their history had nothing to do with his reasoning. The only thing Allie was one hundred percent sure of, was that he was all ready to say no, and then out of the
blue, he said yes.

“Do you think he’s still into you?” Kitty asked.

“
What
?”

Kitty made a dismissive motion with her hand. “Mimi told me the two of you used to be a hot item. First love, and all that. And now that he’s divorced—”

“That was twelve years ago.”
First love. Ha! What a joke
. First love implied a reciprocal relationship. “I’m pretty certain he has absolutely no
romantic feelings toward me whatsoever. And I feel exactly the same toward him.”

“Oh.” Kitty looked disappointed. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be nosy. It’s just, I can’t help myself. I’m a hopeless romantic.”

“Hopeless would be the key word in any relationship between Tom and myself.”

Kitty suddenly looked uncomfortable, making Allie regret her last words. She sounded bitter. What
happened to last night’s love, peace and
que sera
,
sera
moment? Maybe she should try to channel the Beatles again. Although, she hadn’t consciously channeled them last night…

“What I meant to say was, Mimi exaggerated. Tom and I dated one summer. You could pretty much say I was a rebound for him. Honestly, I’d forgotten all about it,” Allie said, forcing a smile.

“A rebound, huh?”

Normally, Allie would brush Kitty off. Talking about her sad little past with Tom Donalan wasn’t something she enjoyed. But Kitty seemed genuinely interested and she owed her. Not only had Kitty gone out of the way to try to help her with this ghost story, she was now giving up her morning to help chauffer Allie around town.

“It’s kind of a long story,” Allie said. “But basically, it’s
a case of girl and boy date heavily all senior year of high school, then one week before prom girl breaks up with boy and boy turns around and asks his best friend to the dance, which then ends up in a summer romance. Best friend falls hard. Boy, not so much. Then two weeks before everyone goes off to college, girl discovers she’s four months pregnant and boy goes running back to her and they
get married. Best friend ends up with a ‘Hey, it was nice, but…’” She shrugged.

Kitty frowned. “So Tom would be boy, you would be best friend, and Lauren is…
Oh
. I get it.”

“Yep. Then girl ends up divorcing boy and somehow, girl, boy and best friend all end up back in Whispering Bay like some bad alignment of the planets. Sorry to burst your bubble, but that’s it in a nutshell. Not
much to resurrect in the form of a romance, I’m afraid.”

If Kitty doubted her, she was polite enough not to say so. “How long do you plan to stay in town?”

“Probably just until I get the story.” And fix her suspended license, of course.

“If you’re still here on Thursday, you should play Bunco with us. It’s at my house this week.” Kitty smiled proudly. “Most groups only play once
a month, but we manage to meet every Thursday. Of course, some nights we don’t even play. It’s a great excuse to get out for a girls night and to gorge on Shay Masterson’s super-secret margaritas, which are the best you’ll ever drink.”

Allie nodded politely.

Mimi was always going on about Bunco night. When Allie was younger it had sounded like a suburban nightmare. But now she could
see how it would be a nice diversion from her sister-in-law’s regular routine of picking up kids and doing housework. “Sounds fun, but I’m not sure what my schedule is going to look like,” she said, not wanting to make a promise she couldn’t keep.

“Sure, but if you’re available, we’d love to have you. We always need subs.”

*~*~*

M
imi left to go
to the grocery store, leaving Allie
home alone to do research. The first thing she did was call Emma with the good news. “So you plan to spend the entire night in the senior center? By yourself?” Emma asked.

“Just me, my camera, and I.”

“Ooh! Do you really think you can get a picture of this ghost?”

Well, first she’d actually have to find one
. “Why not?”

“I thought ghosts didn’t like being photographed and
that’s why they always end up looking like these funny looking orbs. You know, like little white blobs.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” It occurred to Allie that she knew almost nothing about the paranormal.

“Well, whatever you can get, I’m sure it will be great. I filled Ben in on what you were working on.”
Pause
. “He’s really excited to read the piece.”

Oh Lord
. Emma was an even worse liar
than Tom. Ben was so
not
enthusiastic about her little ghost adventure.

“So what made this guy, what’s his name, the head of the construction crew—”

“Tom Donalan.”

“Yeah, him. I thought you said he was a jerk. What made him change his mind and delay the demolition to let you spend the night in the building?”

“Well, that’s the million dollar question.”

“Maybe he’s
not such a jerk after all.”

“Maybe.” She thought about the guilty conscience theory then dismissed it. Tom was more of a responsibility junkie. Which made his decision to postpone the demolition all the more confusing. But who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth?

Allie promised to call Emma back in the morning and was ready to dive into her research when her cell phone rang.

“I can’t believe you got your driver’s license suspended,” Zeke said.

“Well, hello to you, too.”

“You’ll be happy to know I looked into this mess for you. There’s a hefty fine and you have to present proof of insurance at a courthouse before you can drive again. You can do it locally and we can fax the information to Hillsborough County, which should take care of the suspension.”

“Excuse me, but isn’t this a little out of your jurisdiction?”

“Yeah, and you can thank me later.” Beneath Zeke’s gruffness lay an undercurrent of affection making it impossible for Allie to resent his interference.

“How about I get this over with and just thank you now?”

“That’s more like it. You know, if you’re short on funds I could pay the fine.”

“Absolutely not.
I’m thirty years old. I pay for my own mistakes.”

Speaking of which, she had to pay that overdue electric bill. She said goodbye to her brother then whipped out her computer and logged onto the electric company site, then nearly emptied what was left of her checking account. She transferred some of her meager savings into her main account then sent up a little prayer to St. Jude, the patron
saint of lost causes (and overall desperation). Which was the perfect way to describe her finances.

Buela was the one who had turned Allie on to St. Jude. She had also made sure Allie and Zeke towed the line by going to Sunday mass and the obligatory semi-annual confession. Allie had to admit, she’d been a pretty crummy Catholic the past few years but her faith in St. Jude had never wavered,
probably because Buela herself had been such a staunch believer. But Buela had also been a firm believer in the old adage God helps those who help themselves. And getting a permanent job at
Florida
! seemed like the perfect first step in helping herself.

She rummaged through the kitchen, grabbed a piece of the best zucchini bread she’d ever tasted, then set up her laptop on the dining room
table and fired away.

Unfortunately, what Allie knew about ghosts was limited to the stuff she’d seen on T.V and in the movies, neither of which were credible sources. Of course, neither was Wikipedia, but it was a start. She read the definition aloud: “A ghost was the soul or the spirit of a person or animal that was once alive and now managed to make itself known to the living.”

Okay. Nothing she didn’t already know there.

Next, she perused a list of websites but most of them looked sketchy and absolutely none of them gave her any more information beyond what she’d learned from watching those ghost hunter shows.

A couple of weeks ago, Jen and Sean had an
American Horror Story
marathon. They got the first three seasons from Netflix and stayed in all day on a
Saturday, eating popcorn, drinking mojitos, and laughing. Yes,
laughing
. Since they were watching TV in the living room of their small apartment, Allie couldn’t help but absorb a few episodes. While Jen and Sean had found the whole thing humorous, Allie literally had the crap scared out of her. She came down with a stomach flu that night and had had to sleep with her bedroom light on.

It
occurred to Allie that Jen, of all people, might be able to help with her research. She hit her roomie’s number on speed dial. After a few rings, Jen picked up. “Did you pay the electric bill?”

“Doesn’t anyone start a conversation with a simple hello anymore?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sigh
. “Nothing. And yes, I paid the electric bill.”

“Good. Because I mean, you
know
, it is
your turn.”

Allie wanted to dispute that, but she forced herself to hold back. “So this ghost story is going to take me a little longer than I originally thought, so I’ll be sticking around Whispering Bay for a while.” She left off the part about her suspended license. In order to pay the fine she’d have to wait for her next paycheck from The Blue Monkey. Thank God she had it
automatically deposited. Still, that wasn’t till Friday, which meant she’d be here for at least four more days.

“I’ll probably be here till the weekend,” she told Jen.

“No problem,” Jen said, sounding unusually happy, which probably meant Sean had spent the night. Allie envisioned Sean walking around their little apartment in nothing but a loincloth.
Oh no
. She should have had more
than coffee for breakfast.

“Yeah, uh, one more thing. I know this sounds kind of crazy but I was wondering if you had any idea where I might be able to get some general ghost information. Other than what I can find on Wikipedia.”

“I
love
Wikipedia,” Jen gushed, “but yeah, probably not the most reliable source, especially if you need to quote it or anything for your magazine. Have you
tried contacting any mediums?”

“Is that like a psychic?”

Jen sighed impatiently. “Psychics are people with ESP—extra sensory perception.”

“Like the little boy in
The Sixth Sense
?”

“No, he saw dead people, which would make him a medium. Which is
exactly
what you need. Only he’s fictional and you need someone real.”

“How do I find someone? I mean, I can’t very well
advertise.” It was T-minus ten hours, which barely gave her enough time to do computer research let alone search for a reputable ghost expert.

“Aren’t you the Queen of Google?”

“You think I should do a Google search for ghost mediums?”

“Why not? The Internet knows everything, right? Hey, listen, Sean’s here. Gotta go!” Jen said, then hung up.

Allie stared at her blank computer
screen. Jen had a point. What could it hurt to do a Google search? She typed “Ghost Mediums in North Florida” into the subject line. Immediately, several pages popped up. Allie scrolled through the links. There were numerous sites for ghost societies, ghost hunters, psychics, and even a group that claimed to sunbathe with ghosts.

Wouldn’t Tom Donalan just love to hear that one?

Who
cared what Tom Donalan thought? And why was she thinking about him anyway? She had work to do. A vision of Tom in a loincloth suddenly popped into her head. This time, it wasn’t her stomach that threatened to rebel. It was her pulse that went up a notch.

Allie frowned. So what? Tom was delicious. She’d already acknowledged that last night. But looks weren’t everything. Thank God she was
no longer attracted to him.

She went back to studying the links.

Now she had the opposite problem of just a few minutes ago. With so many potential sources to ask for help, where did she start?  She clicked several of the links but without more information she was more confused than ever.

What if she called one of these places and they went to another media source? She could
have her story ripped out right from under her. What she needed was someone she could trust. Or at least, someone who might share her interests. Maybe she should call Viola Pantini and ask if any of the Gray Flamingoes had gotten in contact about the anonymous email. She thought back to their meeting this morning and how Roger Van Cleave had reacted when she’d produced the email, and the way he’d
been all ninja stealth-like when slipping her his phone number.