Page 41 of Feels Like the First Time
Chapter 8
As promised, Hawk was true to his word.
It had been two days since the party and absolutely nothing had changed.
Gail was back in Seattle. Bridget said not a word about Ali and Hawk, or what she’d witnessed on the roof. And Hawk? Other than telling Ali he was fine after discovering that Bridget, the woman who’d told him she never wanted kids, admitted to wanting four with Hubby 2.0, and was, in fact, a member of the mile-high club, qualifying with an old flame from her past, he’d made zero attempts to contact her. Not even when she’d used the diamond saw on a steel sheet at 4 a.m. With the shop door open.
He also hadn’t changed his status fromIn a Relationshipback toSingle.
Ali kept her statusIt’s Complicated, so there was no grand statement for her to make on their relationship—or lack thereof. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t checked his timeline every few hours for confirmation—only to see a post about three other missing kegs. Or obsess over why he hadn’t spent a single night in his apartment above the bar. And if, indeed, he hadn’t, then whose bed had his boots been under?
The good news was that party had been a success. Bridget was pleased with the turnout, which meant Marty was happy—and Ali could go back to her normal life. The bad news? Nothing about her world felt normal, and she was terrified that Colleen had been right all along. And Ali wasn’t talking about the Facebook poll.
Bridget was gone, their history brought back to the surface, and Hawk had gone radio silent.
The old gal-pal Ali would have helped herself to whatever was in his fridge and told him to stop being butthurt. The newI kissed himAli didn’t want him to think she was the butthurt party, so she’d stolen three kegs and buried herself in her shop.
But it was a new day, and she was determined to enjoy it. So she decided to drop some groceries by her dad’s house, then go for a run on the beach. Maybe even take the paddleboard out.
When Ali pulled up, Marty was already down on the dock tinkering with his boat, so she let herself in and headed straight for the kitchen to put the groceries away. And check all of his favorite hiding places for sweets.
Last month she’d found a half-eaten bag of mini peanut butter cups in the toolbox under the sink. Marty played ignorant, and shrugged it off as leftover Halloween candy.
Ali asked if the chocolate stain on his shirt was leftover as well. He grumbled something about being a grown-ass man and toddled down to the boat—where Ali was certain there was more leftover Halloween candy.
Because apparently, grown-ass men needed to have their hand held, so Ali had been doing daily sweeps ever since. He’d gotten better at picking hiding spots, but was still a terrible liar.
Checking inside the first aid kit on the bookshelf, Ali walked through the kitchen doorway and stopped in surprise.
The table had been moved away from the wall and into the middle of the room. The window seat, which had been used as a bookshelf, was cleaned off and now had a cozy cushion and a selection of nautical-inspired throw pillows.
Even more alarming, Loraine stood at the counter in her blue work pants, bright white sneakers, and Marty’sIT’S GETTING HOT IN HEREapron, cooking up some eggs and bacon, and moving around the place as if she belonged.
“What are you doing here?” Ali asked, setting the grocery bags on the counter.
“Came to make a delivery and saw that Marty ordered some of that fancy farm-to-table bacon I read about inBon Appétit,” Loraine said. “They say you haven’t tried bacon until you’ve tried Black Pig Company bacon. Now, I’m sixty-six years old. It would be a sin not to be able to say I’ve eaten bacon.”
“So you’re eating my dad’s?”
Loraine lowered the spatula and sent Ali a look across the counter. “You want me to tell Marty he has sixty dollars’ worth of bacon up here?”
Ali thought about whatthatcould do to a man’s system. “Point taken. Eat away.”
“Save me some,” Bridget said, walking into the kitchen in pink flannel pajamas and sipping from aQUEEN Btravel mug. She sat at the table and picked up a magazine.
“A bacon party and I didn’t get an invite,” Ali deadpanned. “I’m hurt.” She set the groceries on the counter. “When did you get back?”
“I never left,” Bridget said, licking her finger to flip the page.
“Well, that’s obvious from the bra drying on the back of the chair and the fact that Dad is hiding on the boat,” Ali pointed out. “Although I really like what you did to Dad’s window seat. The kitchen looks bigger.”
“It’s an illusion. I raised the ceiling light and added some bright-colored pieces to lighten up the space.” Bridget sipped her coffee. “And he’s not hiding. He was washing down the deck when I woke up.”
Marty’s favorite pastime. “I thought you would have left with Jamie or gone to see that venue up north that Mom was talking about.”
“Jamie had an early meeting in Seattle, then had to fly to Florida to see his parents,” Bridget explained. “Rather than hang in an empty house, I figured I’d hang here for a few days. Not that Dad’s been around much. He’s either sleeping, on the boat, or running errands.”
“Running errands is code for having a cold one with his buddies,” Ali groaned. “You should take him up to see the venue, the drive would be good for him.” And keep him out of trouble.
