Gage waved to Olympia and turned to follow Sheryl down the hall. “I just hadn’t heard from you.”
“I was talking to my sister,” Sheryl said. “I literally just got your text. Yes, I’m hungry. We can go to lunch.”
Gage had a hard time keeping up with her, that blonde ponytail swaying violently as she marched away from him. So she was angry. Well, so was he. He jogged the last few steps to the door that led back down to the lower level of the inn, where her office was.
“Ricky is down there.” He put his palm on the door so she couldn’t pull it open. Her eyes finally looked up and into his, but she didn’t look like the scared rabbit she’d been last night.
“Well, let’s go see what he wants,” she said.
Surprise arched his eyebrows. “Is that what you want to do?”
“You’re the one who said I can’t run away from him every time he shows his face.”
“That’s not exactly what I said.”
“Move, Gage.”
“Why are you so upset?”
She shook her phone at him. “You made it sound like waiting five minutes for me was a horrible crime against humanity.” Her fury stormed across her face, but she was still drop-dead gorgeous. Maybe more so because of it.
Gage wanted to quip right back at her, but he drew in a slow breath first. “I thought you might have locked yourself in your office, Sheryl,” he said, slowly and without any emotion whatsoever. “So I was a little worried. That’s all.”
The wind that had gotten her all bunched up deflated, and her shoulders slumped. “Is he really down there?”
“He really is.” Gage removed his hand from the door. “And if you want to go talk to him, I’ll go with you. But then I really do want to go to lunch. All the food trucks are going to South Port today.”
Gage loved a good food truck. And he loved the vibe at South Port, where murals lined the storm surge walls with messages of hope and love for those who’d lost their lives in previous hurricanes and gales.
Sheryl frowned. “South Port?”
“Do you not grace the southern part of the island with your presence?” As soon as the words left his mouth, Gage knew he’d made a huge mistake. “Sorry,” he said. “That was rude. Let’s go talk to Ricky.”
“And to think I was going to invite you to go to dinner with some friends of mine tonight.” Sheryl yanked open the door, practically hitting him in the face.
He opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came out. “Wait. What?” But she was gone already, off to face Ricky alone, absolute anger in her footsteps flying down the steps. He hurried after her, though in that moment, he had no doubt that Sheryl Heartwood could take care of herself.
She was only a few paces ahead of him when he came out of the stairwell, and Ricky had stood from the chair he’d been waiting on.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her fingers curled into fists. “You’re not allowed on the property, and I know you were following me on your bike the other day.”
He was? Why hadn’t Gage heard about that?
She came to a stop, and he went to her side, watching Ricky for any signs of sudden movement.
“I just wanted to talk to you,” Ricky said, his eyes pleading when he looked at Sheryl. They turned hard when they moved to Gage. “Alone. Without your muscle.”
“I’m not her muscle,” Gage said. “She can take care of herself.” He reached over and slid his hand around hers, working to uncurl those fingers. “She’s my girlfriend. There’s a difference.”
Sheryl looked at him, searching for something. But he wasn’t going to give her the answer right then. He’d dealt with men like Ricky before, and the best thing to do was stick to one idea. Never let the other person see how he felt.
“She told you no, man. More than once.”
Ricky frowned, his eyes sparking with danger. He looked back at Sheryl. “I can’t believe this meathead is your type.”
Gage drew in a breath through his nose. He wasn’t a meathead just because he’d served in the military instead of going to college. He didn’t even frequent the gym that much, because six a.m. came early enough as it was.
“More so than you,” she said, finally slipping her fingers through his. She squeezed, and Gage thought it might be more about her anger than her need for him. “Ricky, just go. Leave me alone. If you keep doing things like this, the police said I can have you brought in for questioning, and then I can get a restraining order.”
She spoke in a less-than-angry voice, and Gage knew she didn’t want all the hassle. Ricky stared at her for another few seconds, the tension drawing taut between them. “All right,” he finally said. “You can call off the dog then.” He threw Gage a dark look and turned to go.
Sheryl waited until the metal door closed behind Ricky, and then she wrenched her hand out of his. “Dog? What have you been doing?”
“Nothing,” Gage said.
“He said I needed to call you off. Have you been bothering him?”
“No,” Gage said. “I may have sent a patrol car by his place this morning. It was nothing.”
Sheryl glared at him. “I can’t believe you.”
“Me?” he asked. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
She went into her office and came back out with her purse. “I’d like to go home now.”
“No lunch?”
“I don’t feel like eating,” she said.
“Who was dinner with tonight?” He moved in front of the door so she couldn’t storm away from him again.
“Someone who works here with me,” she said, refusing to look at him. The way she stared over his shoulder was unnerving and annoying. “His wife is about to have a baby, and she’s an excellent cook.”
Gage wanted to fix whatever had snapped between them. Last night, he’d said some stupid thing about fairies. Today, he had nothing. So he said, “Sheryl, I’m sorry. Okay?” He stepped forward and put his hand under her chin, guiding her gaze to his. “I’m sorry. I thought you wanted help with Ricky. I thought you might be in your office while he kept you there by being in that chair.”
“And South Port?”
“I didn’t think,” Gage said.
“Because I go to South Port,” she said, lifting that chin so his fingers didn’t touch her skin anymore.
“I believe you.” Though, he didn’t really. South Port was in a seedier part of the island, and not many tourists went down there either. The only thing to see was the murals and the beach, but there were many more miles of better beach along the southeast, eastern, and northern parts of the island.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll take you home, and you can decide about dinner. I’d like to go meet your friends.” She hadn’t said much about them, spending most of her time talking about her family. He turned and opened the door, stepping back to hold it open for her.
She kept her eyes on his as she passed, finally looking forward when she stepped outside. She got behind the wheel of her car while he mounted up on the bike. He didn’t know what to think. Had he blown his shot of ever being more than “her muscle” or “her dog” because he’d said something rude about South Port?
Sheryl seemed to be able to forgive easily, and she felt things deeply. Maybe she just needed some time to get over what he’d said. And you need to think before you speak, he told himself as he followed her out of the parking lot and up the street toward her cottage.
The ten minute drive to her house passed quickly, with the sun beating down on the island and the wind barely a visitor that day. He got off his motorcycle and went with her up to the door. “I’m sorry again,” he said. “Really. I’ll have my phone with me, so text me if you want me to come back and go to dinner with you.”
“I don’t need to text you,” she said, turning into him. Only a couple of feet separated them, but it felt like miles to Gage. He couldn’t look anywhere but into her eyes, and she couldn’t seem to look away from him either.
Hesitantly, she reached up and cradled his face in the palm of her hand. “Javier said we can come at six.”
Joy burst through Gage, causing a smile to form on his mouth. “Great,” he said. “Do you want me to stay now? Or I can come back. I don’t think Ricky will bother you anymore.”
“Really? You believed him?”
“I honestly have no idea what to believe,” Gage said. And thinking was so very hard with her hand still holding his face.
“Go get something for lunch at the food trucks,” she said. “And then come back. But be warned. Melinda Garcia makes a mean sopapilla, and the spread of food there tonight will be epic.”
“So don’t eat too much now,” he said, translating for her.
“Right.” With that, Sheryl tipped up onto her toes, swept her lips across his other cheek, and darted into her house.
Gage stood on the porch, staring at whatever was in front of him. What in the world had just happened?
“She’s hot and cold,” he muttered to himself as he turned to look at the closed door, and then spun to walk down the steps to his bike. Truth was, he ran hot and cold too. A sentence could trigger him, and then he’d be angry. Sheryl seemed to be made of the same stuff, while he’d thought her to be his opposite before.
Thinking about it all just made him more confused, and he pushed every thought away as he put on his helmet. He just needed to ride. Let the wind and the birds at South Port tell him what to do.
So he set his bike north to go around the island the long way, and he just enjoyed the ride.
South Port buzzed with energy, and Gage got a footlong with extra spicy brown mustard—his favorite lunch. He found a bench in the shade and sat down to enjoy the surf coming in. The wind. The birds. The people. The scent of something fried. He liked it all. He thought he might like it more with Sheryl beside him, but he wouldn’t be asking her to come to the food truck rally at South Port again.
His phone rang, and he glanced at the number. “Michael.” He hadn’t heard from his brother in a couple of weeks, so he swiped on the call and set aside his hot dog. “Hey, bro.”
“Gage.” Michael laughed. “It’s good to hear your voice.”
“Yeah? Where you at?”
“Oh, I’m still home,” he said. “Got a job with the cable company for now. Marie and Maggie want you to come visit.”
“Right.” Gage scoffed. “Your wife and daughter want me to come?” He couldn’t go, not without asking for a lot of time off. He could get to Peach Tree in a day, but then it was a day back, and if he stayed for only a day, that was three days of work. Almost a week.
Fine, not a week, but Gage hated going home.
Michael chuckled. “I’m actually thinking we need a vacation on the beach, and you live on Carter’s Cove.”
“Sure, come on over,” he said. “The island is full of people right now, but it’s a great place to spend a day on the beach.” Or a week, as most families did.
“Okay,” Michael said. “It’s just me who needs a vacation on the beach.”
Gage sat up straighter and glanced around like there might be someone eavesdropping on him. “Mike? What’s going on? Give it to me straight.”
“Marie asked me to leave for a little while,” he said. “And I need somewhere to stay.”
“Leave?”
“Move out,” he clarified.
Gage blinked, unsure of what to say to his little brother. “I’m sorry. Yeah, uh, yeah. You can come stay with me. Tell me all about it.”
“Okay.” Michael sighed. “Wow, making this call sucked as hard as I thought it would.” He laughed, but there was no joy in the sound. “Can I come tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Gage said. “Of course.”
“You still working the ferry in the morning?”
“Yes,” Gage said. “But you stop by any time you want. Britta will be there, and I’ll be home just after one.” They continued making plans, and Gage hung up. His hot dog had long gone cold, and he didn’t have an appetite for it anyway.
His brother was separating from his wife. “So strange,” he muttered to the sea in front of him. Michael and Marie had always been rock-solid. Maggie, Gage’s niece, was seven years old, and she adored her father. Gage had never seen a family so strong.
If they couldn’t make things work, how could Gage ever expect to have a meaningful, lasting relationship?
Heck, he couldn’t even send the right text to the woman he wanted.