Page 14 of Mr. Dangerous

6

Rob

Ileaned backin one of the Adirondack deck chairs, watching the surf roll in and wondering why Naomi turned me into a goddamn idiot. I thought that she wanted me the same way I wanted her. It seemed clear from the way her eyes caught mine sometimes, the way she arched her back when her body was against mine, the way her fingers fell against my shoulders. But maybe I read herwrong.

Maybe she really was too smart to fall for aDelaney.

Under the yellow morning sun, the ocean reflected back a bright, blinding blue. The roar of waves was distant but still overwhelming. Foam churned white as the waves crashed in, and I itched to slip into that coolwater.

When Naomi stepped quietly out onto the deck behind me and dragged a table over to my elbow, I asked, “Do youstillswim?”

"No. I don't know how you like your coffee yet. I brought you out milk, sugar." She set thecupdown.

"Black is good." I took a sip. Pulled a face. "You drinkcoffee?"

She shook her head. As tightly pulled back as her hair was, wisps had escaped already, whipped around by the oceanbreeze.

"Too bad." She probably would have been able to make a decent cup if she drank it herself. I liked my coffee strong, but this stuff was even more abrasive than she was. "How do you like it? I’ll make some for both of us tomorrowmorning."

"You don't have todothat."

"I'm capable of running a coffee maker," I said. "I can even use one of those French presses. For fancycoffee."

"Well, I don't like coffee, plain orfancy."

"Tea?"

She shookherhead.

"Let me guess. You drink nothing butchampagne?"

At that, she actually cracked a smile. A tiny one. But I still felt relieved by that little uptick in her lips, the break in tensionbetweenus.

I took another unthinking sip of coffee, and regretted it as bitter dredge filled my mouth. I could have sworn it wasgritty. "Are you sure this is coffee? Notrevenge?"

"I have a house to clean," she told me, already moving back toward the French doors. "Holler if you needanything."

"It'd be easier to text you. You know, Amy gave me her number within three minutes of meeting me, but I don't haveyoursyet."

"Hmm," she threw over her shoulder as she stepped back into the house. "Maybe we should keep itthatway."

Sometimes, like now, it seemed like she was pretending to hate me. And sometimes it seemed very real. She talked to me the way I thought women should’ve responded to Mitch. I couldn’t even remember the names of half the women who had passed through this house, just like I wasn’t sure I could really remember mymother.

“This house is full of memories,” I said. “Badones.”

The French doors creaked slightly, as she stopped abruptly. “What isit,Rob?”

They were her usual brusque words, but her tone was different.Softer.

I glanced back at her, regretting that I’d said what I was thinking out loud. It wasn’tlikeme.

“Plenty of good ones, too,” I saidlightly.

She walked to the edge of the patio and rested her elbows on the rail. I watched as the wind whipped her hair back, but I couldn’t see her face. That made it easier to talk. I figured I had one chance to remind her I was a person, not just a Delaney. A person she used to careabout.

“When I was a kid, I thought I saw Mitch and my mom out here. He had his arm around her waist and he was whispering in her ear. I had come into the kitchen for Frosted Mini-Wheats and here I thought I was getting my mom back instead.” I shook my head. I’d run out there like an idiot, a big grin splitting my face, but when the two of them turned around, it was my dad romancing some sweet-faced co-ed I’d never metbefore.

“Who was she?” Naomiasked.

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