Page 28 of Enemies to Lobsters
“I thought you liked the beard,darling.” I’ve never used that word in my life, but our Dick Van Dyke/Mary Tyler Moore dynamic brings it out of me.
That eyebrow of hers perks up. I’m learning to read her arching eyebrow, but this time she lets her mouth do the talking. “I like your beard when it’s neatly trimmed, but you’ve let it get all unkempt. You look like a mountain man wearing a tie. No, a caveman.” She tries to make the words sound mocking, but there’s something behind them. Am I detecting a hint of attraction? There’s no way. But then she licks her lips, taking another step back.
Oh, it’s on.
And she’s right about the beard. Usually I keep it short, but I can’t exactly linger in the bathroom these days so really, it’s on her. I step forward. She’s almost backed against the green refrigerator.
“Ike,” she says with a strangled laugh.
“Diana,” I growl.
She bites her lip. “Ike,” she pleads. “Don’t you d—”
I sweep her up and toss her over my shoulder before she can get the words out. Her cute behind is inches from my face, but I can’t think about that because her fists are hammering against my back while I duck through the short door into the lighthouse tower. I might have bruises tomorrow, but it’ll be worth it. I’m working off a lot of unspent energy right now.
“Ike, put me down!” she wails, pounding on my back. “Ugh! You’re such a complete caveman.”
I tighten my hold on her thighs. “I think you secretly like a caveman.” And why do I wish that were true? The confusing train of thought derails when I see what Diana was going to show me.
Stairs. We have stairs. I know I’ve been working long hours and it’s been a few weeks, but how did Diana make this happen so quickly? The woman is a force to be reckoned with. The crumbled remains of the previous staircase have been cleared away, and a custom spiral staircase stands in its place. And the thing is gorgeous. Solid. The perfectly black wrought iron stands out against the interior of the lighthouse which is in serious need of patching and paint.
I’m not going to cry. I want to, but I’m not going to. Not in front of Diana.
She clears her throat, reminding me that she’s still slung over my shoulder, waiting patiently. I got distracted by our beautifulstaircase, and Diana’s punching stopped. But now I feel her elbows propped against my back as she holds herself up.
“You can put me down now,” she says dryly.
Instead I hitch her up, securing my hold, and head for the stairs. I have a moment of panic when I wonder whether I’ll be able to reach the top carrying a fully grown adult woman, but adrenaline—and some other hormones, most likely—give me strength.
Chapter 14
Diana
Ike!” I holler, my voice bumping with his every step. “You’re going to drop me.”
Memories from a few weeks ago fly through my mind: The staircase crumbling under my feet, and my shoe dropping with a clang. The feeling of being stranded at a height while the sky darkened. Images of Ike losing his grip, or tripping, stumbling, and dropping me over the rail assault me. Climbing forty-five stairs while carrying a healthy-sized adult is an Olympic feat. I don’t like my odds.
“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” he says, barely winded. Instead of putting me down, his arm tightens around my thighs. He’s doing this one-handed and hardly breaking a sweat. What a jerk.
Ugh. I focus on counting his steps to calm myself, since the Cro-Magnon man isn’t putting me on my feet any time soon.
Forty-three, forty-four, forty-five…
That new forty-fifth stair rankles. The rise on the new stairs is slightly lower, in theory making it easier to climb, but throwing off years of tradition.
Ike slides me down until my bare toes finally touch the landing. My hands are shaking from that ride, and from being atthe top of this thing. As excited as I was to have the installation finished today, something stopped me from trying it out. I had phone calls to make and painters to schedule, but even after I knocked everything off my to-do list I only stared up from the bottom.
I release a shaky breath and step toward the wall of the tower, away from the stairs. I’ve never been afraid of heights. This lighthouse was an important part of my formative years, and I’ve been up here hundreds of times. But here I am, shaking and dizzy.
I lean against the wall, sliding down until my bottom hits the floor. I’m going to have to crabwalk back down to the bottom. My legs make me too tall. Has the lighthouse always swayed like this? I brace my hands on the floor on either side of me, holding myself in place and preparing for the lighthouse to pitch sideways. My breath is coming in short puffs.
“Oh, hey.” Ike’s voice comes from above me. I can’t see him through my pinched eyes, but I hear him crouching in front of me. His warm hand covers my knee. “You okay?”
I shake my head. I’m not okay, and he doesn’t need to apologize. He didn’t know I’m afraid of heights now. I didn’t know until thirty seconds ago.
“I was just trying to have fun. I wasn’t thinking…” he trails off. When I open my eyes his serious gaze is focused on mine. “You’re white as a ghost.” He frowns, scanning my face.
“Great. Now besides being a witch, I can be the ghost that haunts the old lighthouse.” I force a chuckle. “Fresh gossip. The townspeople will be thrilled.” I hope my running mouth and dumb joke mask the fact that I’m shaking and fighting images of the stairs falling apart.
