Changing Tides, page 17
She pointed, trembling with unspent anger. “You screwed up and lost everything, remember? And guess whose stuff was the first to go?” Rachel glanced around the room pointedly, then back at him again. “How quickly you forget. You don’t own me anymore.”
“Are you seeing this trailer trash to get even with me? Is that what this is about?”
Rachel’s blood turned to ice in her veins. “He’s hardly trailer trash, and at the moment, he has a whole heck of a lot more to his name than me. Not that it matters.” She ripped her arm away from him. “I’m no longer under your thumb,” she said, and for the first time since she lost everything, she was grateful.
From the hallway, someone cleared their throat as they entered the kitchen. A moment later, Carter appeared behind her father, hands tucked in the pockets of his pants.
“Sir, I’ll have a word with her if you don’t mind.”
Her father glanced between them, a warning in his eyes as he took a long look at Rachel, then spun around and muttered, “Maybe you can talk some sense into her.”
Dad hurried from the room, his stride clipped as both of them watched him go.
“Joe?” Carter asked, his tone dripping in disbelief.
Rachel crossed her arms over her chest and nodded silently.
After a minute, Carter chuckled and stared up at the ceiling like this was all some big joke. “What could you possibly see in Fish Boy?”
“Don’t call him that.”
“He’s not enough for you.”
Rachel snorted. “But you are?”
“I can give you the life you deserve. One of luxury and convenience. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger. And I happen to know it’s the kind of life that, deep down, you still want.” He took a step forward.
“Really? And how do you know that?”
“Because people like us never change.”
Rachel swallowed because deep down, she feared he might be right. “Thanks, but I’ve already been owned by one man my whole life,” she said, casting a glance to where her father had exited the room. “I’m not looking to be owned by anyone else.”
“I’d give you whatever you wanted. You could make your own money if you’d like, start your own business. You could have the world.”
She arched a brow. “While supporting you on the campaign trail? No thanks.”
“You will never be happy with a simpleton like him.”
Rachel reeled back like she’d been slapped, done with this conversation and all the people in this house.
“Maybe not. But I would never be happy locked away in a gilded cage.” And with that, she spun around and left, snatching her half-empty bottle of wine on the way out.
Chapter Nineteen
Rachel walked home despite the cold. Though it was unseasonably warm at forty degrees, her teeth chattered, and the chill in the air off the water cut her to the bone.
Though Andi offered to pick her up, she hadn’t wanted to recount the evening when she was still trying to wrap her head around it herself. Despite her dismay at her father’s reaction to Joe, she shouldn’t have been surprised. She knew what she was doing when she dropped that particular bombshell. And if she was honest, she wanted to infuriate Carter. To let him know she chose Joe over him.
After tonight, her father probably thought she was dating Joe just to spite him. But she liked Joe. More than liked him. A part of her thought maybe she could love him. Which was crazy because they barely knew each other, but truth was truth, and she couldn’t deny hers. Joe Hastings had her heart from the moment she laid eyes on him at the Oasis. He was truly a gentleman, one of a kind. And Rachel would be a fool not to fight for him.
Her blood warmed at the thought. She only hoped he felt the same. One dinner didn’t mean much, and he was so reserved, it was hard to know where he stood. But she was bound and determined to find out. Rachel was anything, if not bold, and she vowed right then and there the next time she saw him to ask. Now was not the time for quiet complacency. She needed to shake things up. Her whole life had been flipped upside down, and it was time to give her love life a good jolt as well.
When she neared the corner block near her apartment and the inky black water of the marina came into view, she rounded the row of shops and eateries to the back of The Sea Oat and headed upstairs to her apartment above.
A golden glow spilled out of the windows from within, and a weight lifted from her shoulders as she unlocked the door and stepped inside, glad to be home.
Setting the half-drunk bottle of wine on the table, she stared at it before glancing around her at the pea-soup walls, feeling suddenly energized. Maybe it was time to use that paint. She worked second-shift tomorrow, which meant she could sleep in.
A slow grin spread over her face. Decision made, she hurried into her bedroom where she quickly changed into an old t-shirt and yoga pants, then spread the painter’s plastic she’d bought at the hardware store over the floor.
She’d never painted before, but she has had so many firsts this past month, she was eager for more.
It took her longer than it should to pop the lid off the paint with the little tool they’d given her. Then she poured the thick, silky liquid into the paint tray and gasped.
She’d been drawn to the color, unsure of why, but now as she stared down at it, she realized why. It was a beautiful bluish-gray color—the color of Joe’s eyes, only lighter.
With her heart hammering in her chest, she picked up her roller brush and plunged it into the paint.
Several hours later, Rachel stepped back and examined her handiwork.
She took a swig of wine straight from the bottle, making a mental note to check MagPies for wine glasses next pay day.
She grimaced. The color was beautiful, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to be on the ceiling or the baseboard.
Eh, oh, well, she mused. She could fix that later.
First, she just needed to research how.
A distant clanging outside her window drew her attention. She moved closer and peered out. Below, the boats bobbed by the dock in the dark water as she searched for the source of the sound.
A shadow moved on a boat she recognized, and as her vision cleared, her stomach fluttered.
Joe.
She watched him while he fiddled with the rigging, allowing her head to rest against the cool glass.
He was so unlike Carter and the men she was used to. He didn’t care about money, fancy cars, how big his house was, or trading stock and investments.
He lived his life happily—simply—doing the things he loved, and that was enough for him. Joe was a man who appreciated the small things. He was a man who knew who he was and what he wanted and didn’t worry about anyone else. He was an honest man, and Rachel had no doubt he’d show the same attention and care and appreciation for whatever woman in his life was lucky enough to steal his heart.
Suddenly, Rachel was so grateful he hadn’t had time for love until now because she had no doubt that if he had, someone would’ve swept him away.
She bit her lip and stepped back from the window, reaching for her paint roller before she froze.
There she was pining over him while he was only yards away, just outside her door.
Hadn’t she just vowed to tell him how she felt the next time she saw him?
Without another thought, she leapt to the window, only to discover he’d left the boat and was walking down the dock, out of the marina. If she didn’t act fast, she’d miss him.
Before she changed her mind, she unlocked her window and shoved it up, then leaned outside, and yelled into the still of the night, “Hey stranger!”
Joe paused and lifted his head, glancing up at her window in the darkness. But even from all the way up there, she could make out the shape of his smile.
“Goldilocks?” he asked, his voice smooth like honey.
“Hang on!” She hurried from the window toward her door, then flung it open and stepped outside in her socked feet as she descended the stairs.
Her feet hit the pavement and the cold sunk through the cotton to her toes, but she kept moving as she ran to where he stood. Smile still in place, she came to a stop just in front of him. Her pulse raced, and her breath came out in ragged puffs, fogging the air between them as she caught her breath.
“It’s cold.” He stepped toward her and removed his coat, placing it around her shoulders and rubbing her arms with his hands. “You should get back inside.”
A ball of warmth ignited in her chest, shooting clear to her toes. “I don’t even feel it.”
“You have paint on your face,” he said softly. He lifted his hand, brushing a finger over her cheekbone until she shivered.
“I’m finally covering up that green.”
“You’ll miss it.”
She shook her head. “It’s time for a fresh start.”
His brow furrowed, sensing this was about more than paint.
“Joe Hastings, I have a question for you.”
“Okay,” he drawled.
“Do you like me?” She closed her eyes and half laughed, then hurried to add, “I mean, like-me, like-me. Because I do. Like you, I mean.” She blinked her eyes open and stared into his turbulent gaze, his eyes a stormy blue like the walls inside. “I like you a lot, and I know you have a lot going on between your boat and Brady, but I want us to be more. I know my life’s a mess, and I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m headed. Pretty much everything is up in the air, but—”
“I like you,” he breathed, cupping her face with his hands. “Like-you, like-you. More than you could know.”
Rachel exhaled, a sigh of relief even as the butterflies in her stomach came to life. “Good. Because that makes what I’m about to do a lot easier.”
He grinned. “What are you—”
“Will you be my boyfriend?” She rolled her eyes at herself, then pressed a hand to her head, feeling foolish. “I know that sounds lame. I’m thirty-seven, but—”
“Yes.”
Rachel bit her lip. “Really?”
His gaze dipped to her lips, and he nodded before she slid her hand to the back of his neck and pressed her lips to his.
The warmth of their kiss chased away the cold, burning through her like a smoldering ember. His lips were soft and sweet—like vanilla and the peppermint gum he kept in his truck—and the combination was entirely intoxicating.
Just like him, she thought. The kiss was just like him. Sure and strong. Stable and sweet. It grounded her and made her feel like flying all at the same time, and when he finally pulled away, his gaze drifted over her face, and she knew she’d never be the same again. Not after tonight. Not after seeing what it would be like to have someone like him.
Chapter Twenty
The next five days passed by in a blur. Rachel couldn’t remember the last time her week went so fast, but between working, being a sounding board for Andi’s wedding plans, and spending time with Joe, she all but lost consciousness the second her head hit her pillow at the end of the day.
She found herself actually enjoying work. Her skills had grown stronger, and she no longer dropped food or screwed up orders. Her ability to multitask had grown exponentially. And though she and Joe hadn’t been out on another official date, she saw him daily. Whether it was on the docks in the evening or when he came into the restaurant with his invoice, she treasured those fleeting moments. So when he showed up Tuesday afternoon, with Brady for lunch, she’d been thrilled.
The lunch rush was winding down as Rachel hurried to the register and ran someone’s credit card, snagged their receipt, then tucked it into the pocket of her apron as she rushed back into the kitchen. Under the heat lamp, she recognized the dishes she’d come for, so she grabbed them and placed them on her tray, then headed to the drink station and snatched up the pitcher of ice water. On a whim, she paused by the dessert case and grabbed two pieces of peanut butter cream pie.
“I daresay, you might be getting good at this job,” Miguel said with a grin.
“Did you ever doubt it?” She winked, which made him chuckle before she balanced her tray and went back through the swinging doors.
She paused by Table Five and placed their credit card and receipt on the table and thanked them, then stopped by Table Four to refill their waters.
Next, she sidled up beside Table Three—currently her favorite table.
She lowered her tray and placed the club sandwich in front of Brady, then a burger in front of Joe. “You know, you two really should have tried the fish of the day. I hear we get our seafood from the most amazing fisherman in Bayshore.”
Joe smiled while Brady snorted and said, “Good one.”
Then Rachel placed the pie in front of them. “I also found these back there. I suppose you wouldn’t be interested though.”
Brady’s eyes widened like saucers. “I’m an eleven-year-old boy. Of course I’m interested.” With lightning speed, he snatched the plate closer and took a giant bite of pie, mumbling between bites. “I love peanut butter. You’re the best.”
Rachel beamed, letting the compliment go to her head as she turned her gaze back to Joe. Though she hadn’t been around Brady but two short interactions, she wanted him to like her. She knew how important he was to Joe, which made him important to her.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Joe said, meeting her eyes with his warm gaze.
“I wanted to. My treat.”
“So, do I get to see you tomorrow?”
“Don’t you work?” she asked, even as her heart skipped a beat at the idea of more time with him.
“I thought about taking off and making an exception.”
Rachel forced a frown. “That’s too bad.”
His brows rose, and her lips twitched as she leaned closer. “I want you to take me to work with you.”
Then she kissed him on the nose and hurried off to greet the new customers at Table Four, with his smile on her mind, doing funny things to her heart.
Rachel climbed aboard the old fishing boat, taking a moment for her equilibrium to adjust to the sway of the boat atop the water.
Joe approached her, his brow creased and a level of concern in his eyes Rachel had never seen before. “You’re sure? It’s cold.”
Rachel met his eyes, squinting against the sun. She knew he was worried about her being out on the water this time of year, and she had to admit, on the water, the wintry sea air had a bite to it that sunk deep into your bones. But she desperately wanted to see him at work, more so than her desire for comfort.
“Stop worrying about me. I’ll be fine.”
“We could wait until spring, once it’s warmer,” he hedged, rubbing his hand over her arms to ward off the worst of the cold.
“You plan on keeping me around that long?” she teased.
“Until you dump me because you caught the scourge out here on my boat.
“Not gonna happen, Hastings. You’re going to give me a glimpse into what you do, like it or not.”
“You’re incorrigible,” he muttered, drawing her in for a hug before he pulled away with a smile and headed for the other side of the boat.
He returned with two huge garments in his hands. They were black bibs with a rubbery plastic coating on the outside and looked nearly identical to the ones she’d seen the other fishermen who patronized The Sea Oat wear. Handing one to her, he began to put his on. “These are oil pants. Put them on, and they’ll help keep you warm and dry.”
Rachel did as she was told and clumsily stepped into the heavy bibs, then looped her thumbs around the suspenders and winked at Joe. “So much for looking cute.”
He curled a finger around a suspender and pulled her close, dropping a quick kiss on her lips. “You look amazing in anything.”
With a chuckle, she pushed him away and got situated as he warmed the engine, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the large thermos he brought while she waited for them to head out.
A few minutes later, he walked up the length of the boat, gaffed the mooring rope, and unhooked them, and before she knew it, they slid away from the marina out into a stretch of dark water.
Despite the sun above, her teeth threatened to chatter in the cold. An occasional whiff of diesel fuel wafted toward her, along with the briny scent of the water, which had a subtle chop on it. Land grew further away, and after a time, the engine quieted, and Joe moved toward her.
A flutter of anticipation clenched in her gut. Or maybe it was the swell and constant sway of the boat turning over her breakfast.
“So what are we catching?” Rachel asked, taking in the expanse of choppy water.
Joe grinned and glanced out to the water, which is when she noticed the yellow and blue buoys dancing over the dark surface.
“Lobster.”
Her eyes widened. “For real?”
“After you told me you wanted to come out yesterday, I dropped some traps. We won’t get as many as we would in the active season, but it’s an experience I thought you should have if you’re going to make it as a fisherman.” He winked, then leaned closer and pulled something out of his pocket, and before she knew what he was doing, tugged a knit cap down over her head.
So much for cute hair, she mused. Then again, the warmth over her ears was heavenly.
“You’ll catch your death out here,” he grumbled, adjusting it. His eyes darkened to navy blue as he took her hands in his, checking to ensure she still had the thick work gloves on he’d given her.
“You’re cute when you’re worried about me.” She grinned.
“And you’re cute. With or without a hat,” he said, flashing her a warning glare, which only made her laugh. “So keep it on.”
“Yes, sir,” she preened. “So, when is the active season?”
His eyes lit up at the question as if he hadn’t expected her to care. “June through the end of December, so we’re not too far off. Today is more about the experience than catching a good load.”
