Up to the Challenge (An Anchor Island Novel) (33 page)

I know you know so just freaking tell me already.” Sid had repeated similar statements since arriving at work that morning, but Will refused to confess, claiming she didn’t know anything.

Bullshit.

“This is the last time I’m going to say this. I have no idea what Lucas is planning.” Will slammed the tap shut, cutting off the beer that had been flowing into the tall, chilled glass. “Ask me one more time and I’m shoving a bar rag down your throat.”

Sid didn’t scare easy, but Will did look like a woman on the edge. And she had the advantage of height, if not weight. Hard to tell what the lanky ones were capable of.

“Fine. I’ll stop asking.” Sid hefted the loaded tray onto her shoulder. “But not because I believe you.”

She heard a huff behind her, but kept walking. Crowds had been thin considering the official end of the summer season was still a month away. Tourists always straggled onto the island well into fall, but the real money that sustained everyone through winter was made in June, July, and August.

Thinner crowds meant fewer tips and that slowed her down a bit. Sid hoped Fisher losing out on a potential sale would make him more desperate. Then she could swoop in and take the place off his hands for a price well under asking. She sent up a silent prayer to whatever higher power might be listening. A little divine intervention never hurt.

“Explain this to me again,” Will said, when Sid returned to the bar. “Lucas tried to buy the garage
for
you? I can’t even get a guy to buy me flowers, and you’ve got a BMW-driving
lawyer buying you whole buildings. You must have seriously made that man see God.”

“I am not discussing my private life with you. At least not here. But yeah, he tried to buy the place.” Sid stuffed her latest tip in the pocket of her apron. “Everybody’s giving ones today. I need to shove some of this in a drawer in the back before I lose it.”

“Go for it,” Will said. “We’re good up here.”

Sid dropped her tray behind the counter, then swung through the kitchen. As she reached the office door, the phone rang.

“Dempsey’s. How can I help you?” she answered.

“Lucas Dempsey, please.” The voice was male, clipped, and not one Sid recognized.

“He’s not here right now. Can I take a message?”

“This is Davis Holcomb of Bracken, Franks, and Holcomb, Mr. Dempsey’s employer. Is there another number at which I can reach him?”

Sid considered her options. If she said no and this was an important call, she could screw up Lucas’s gig back in Richmond. But then, in all honestly, she had no idea where he was. Calling his cell was clearly not a possibility.

Then she remembered he’d asked her not to lock her door. It was a long shot, but the man was welcome to try. “There are a couple of numbers I can give you. The first is for his parents’ house.”

“I tried,” the man interrupted. “He’s not there.”

She was trying to help the guy out. The least he could do was use a friendlier tone.

“Then you can try the other.” Sid shared her home number, then let the cranky caller read it back.

“That’s right,” she said. In case he wasn’t there either, she asked, “Would you like me to take a message in case he doesn’t answer?”

“Yes. Tell Mr. Dempsey either I see him in my office on Monday, or he can forget coming back at all.”

With that bombshell, the line went dead. Sid dropped into the desk chair and stared at the phone in her hand as if it might start talking again. Hopefully to say, “Just kidding.”

Only this wasn’t a joke. And Sid definitely didn’t feel like laughing. She felt like crying and screaming and calling the phone company to disconnect her service before hateful Holcomb got through to Lucas. Maybe he wouldn’t be there. Which meant Sid would have to give Lucas the message.

How in the hell was she going to do that?

After a morning setting the scene, then pilfering his mother’s cupboards to find everything he needed, Lucas stood in Sid’s kitchen chopping shallots and mushrooms for chicken marsala. By some miracle, the sun had burst through the clouds shortly after he’d left Sid on the beach. It was as if the universe approved of his plan, and decided to lend a hand to make it perfect.

As he gathered the bits of mushroom against his knife to transfer to the bowl, Sid’s phone rang. Normally, he’d ignore it. But a quick glance at the caller ID, more out of habit than nosiness, revealed a familiar number.

“Shit.”

After wiping his hands on a tea towel, he turned his back to the counter as he answered. “Hello?”

“You’re not an easy man to track down, Lucas Dempsey.”

Holcomb.

“Sorry, sir. There’s no cell service here on the island.”

“How the hell do people live down there?” his boss asked, voice laced with disgust. “Do they have electricity and indoor plumbing or is that too civilized?”

Lucas remained cordial. Barely. “We have all the other amenities, yes sir.”

“I’m sure you know why I’m calling,” his boss continued, getting right to the point. “Calvin Bainbridge tells me he’s explained the situation we have here.”

“Yes, I know about the case. Sir, my father is still recovering from his heart attack. Surely you understand that I’m needed here.”

“Since you’re not working in this family restaurant today, which is supposedly the reason you’re there, I can only assume they no longer need you.”

Lucas didn’t even question how his boss had gotten Sid’s number. He must have called the restaurant first. But who had he spoken with?

“We’ve hired some new help so I’m able to take a day off, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still needed.” But he wasn’t. Will could handle his shifts from here on out. There was no real reason for him to stay.

But one.

“Do you think I’m calling you personally to debate whether you need to be washing dishes or running this defense team?” Davis Holcomb rarely raised his voice. Just as he rarely made his own calls. “You’ve been an asset to this
firm, Lucas, with a promising career ahead of you. But our patience will stretch only so far. We need you on this case and we need you now.”

“Sir, are you saying if I don’t return immediately—”

“We’re giving you until Monday. Wrap up whatever you need to do down there between now and then.”

Three days just wasn’t enough time.

“If I could have one more week.”

“Monday, Lucas. Or you can return a week later and collect your things.”

He’d never actually believed they’d fire him. Not after everything he’d done for the firm. The days, weeks, years he’d given to make sure they almost never lost a case. His record was better than any other lawyer on the payroll.

And it would all have been for nothing if he didn’t go back.

“Yes, sir. I understand.” Lucas looked down to see Drillbit rubbing against his leg. “I’ll be there Monday morning.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

S
id pulled into her drive, tired and in dire need of a shower. She hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. Having the whole bed to herself again should have been liberating. Instead it felt wrong. The weight missing on the other side. The lack of heat pressed against her back. She’d have to buy one of those body pillows once Lucas left for good.

Which would apparently be sooner than expected. She still didn’t know if the Holcomb guy had found him. Her heart told her not to ask. Not to pass along the message. But her head, or maybe her conscience, argued how wrong it would be not to say something.

The question was, would she sabotage his career to keep him? That was an easy answer. Absolutely not. Besides, he’d hate her if she did and then she’d lose him anyway.

Sid hoped she had time to clean up. Surely he didn’t expect her to face his big surprise smelling like french fries and beer. The front door was open and the scent of something delicious hit her before she’d even stepped through the screen. Definitely not fries or beer. As the door slammed shut behind her, Lucas appeared from the kitchen.

“You can’t come in here.”

“Excuse me? This is my house. I can go wherever I want.”

Lucas rolled his eyes, which made him look like a teenage drama queen, and herded her toward the bedroom. “I mean you can’t come in the kitchen. Take a shower. I’ve laid out some clothes on the bed.”

Sid applied the brakes. “You what?” she asked, spinning around. “Since when do I need you to pick out my clothes?”

She could almost see him mentally counting to ten. “Fine. The clothes are merely a suggestion. Wear anything you want.” Then he mumbled something that ended with “stubborn ass.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be making up to me? Rolling eyes and name calling isn’t going to do it.”

Before she could say another word, he met her mouth in a kiss that sent heat down to her toes, and made her feel as if gravity had lost its effect on her body. When he pulled away, she was out of breath and not sure where she was.

“Now,” he said, forehead pressed to hers. “When you’re done with your shower, we’ll get this evening started.”

Sid nodded, the will to argue gone. “I’ll be quick.”

Lucas chuckled. “Take your time. I have a few things to finish up.”

His order to stay out of the kitchen combined with the awesome smell in the air finally registered. “Are you
cooking
?”

“Don’t look so surprised. A bachelor has to eat, and I don’t do fast food.”

“Not even pizza?” Sid asked, perplexed as to how anyone could not like pizza.

Lucas gave her a gentle nudge. “Pizza doesn’t count as fast food. Maybe tomorrow I’ll make my focaccia bread pizza with roasted tomatoes and black peppercorns.”

That sounded … fancy. “Wait,” she stopped just before her bedroom door. “Why have you not cooked before now? You’ve been here every night for two weeks and only now decide to show off your cooking skills. What gives?”

“Would you go take a shower,” he huffed, heading back to the kitchen. “If my sauce is burned …”

Sid couldn’t hear the rest of the rant, but wondered when her live-in lover had turned into a Docker-wearing Julia Child. When she returned to the living room fifteen minutes later, wearing the black wraparound number Lucas had left on the bed, he was nowhere to be found. The only clue to his whereabouts was a Post-It note stuck on the range hood.

Dinner awaits on the pier.

The pier? What the hell were they …? But then she stepped out on the back deck and her breath stopped. She should have known Lucas would never do anything simple. As she walked across the yard in bare feet, feeling awkward with the dress whipping around her legs, she held her hair out of her eyes and took in the scene.

A table stood at the foot of the pier, a patio umbrella posted at each end leaning in, presumably to protect the diners from the elements. Or maybe to dissuade the birds. There were two tablecloths—the white one brushed the boards of the pier, while a shorter, blue square hung only halfway down.

Wine glasses reflected the setting sun, and as she arrived at the table she spotted silver domes covering each plate. He definitely hadn’t found those in her kitchen. How
much trouble had he gone to? No one had ever done anything this nice just for her.

“I wanted the setting to be as beautiful as the woman it was for,” Lucas said, stepping out from under the far umbrella and sliding his hands into his pockets. “But I should have known better.” He’d changed into black pants and a white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled nearly to the elbows. It was as if he’d stepped out of her dreams.

“I’m afraid I can’t compare to all this,” she said, feeling small and inadequate. Lucas was the epitome of sophistication. Her opposite in every way.

“There is no comparison,” he said, pulling out her chair. “Thank you for wearing the dress.”

That’s when she noticed they matched, except Lucas wore shiny black dress shoes. “I didn’t have any shoes—”

“It’s perfect,” he said, then leaned forward. “You’re perfect.”

A snort threatened, but the look in his eyes said he meant the words. Butterflies the size of seagulls took flight in her stomach. “Thank you,” she whispered, sinking as ladylike as she could into the seat he offered.

Sid wasn’t used to accepting compliments. This one went down like a sardine can, odd-sized and hard to swallow, but she did her best.

“Would you like some wine?” he asked. “I have beer in the cooler, if you’d prefer that.”

She was not about to ruin his elegant evening by drinking a beer. “Wine is fine, thanks.”

Sliding the linen napkin across her lap, Sid wished she’d known what Lucas had been planning so she might have asked Curly how to behave. This whole setup was out
of her league. More proof she did not belong in Lucas’s life on a permanent basis.

“How was work?” he asked, dropping his own napkin across his lap. “Busy?” Lucas poured and Sid considered mentioning the phone call, but the timing didn’t feel right.

“Not really, which is strange. The crowds are usually much bigger in August.”

“Do you remember what it was like last year?” he asked, seemingly very interested in her answer.

She thought back. “Thinner than the year before, but not this bad.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”