Feels Like the First Time Page 18

  “Is that what you want,” she asked softly. “To get this over with?”

  Bridget’s hand crept across her throat. “No,” she said, but her eyes went misty. “Oh God, is that what it seems like to everyone?”

  “Screw everyone else. What matters is what it feels like to you.”

  Bridget gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Easy for you to say. You don’t care what anyone thinks. And why should you? You have the perfect life.”

  Ali snorted. “Right, because living with your dad until you’re twenty-seven is really cool. It also makes dating so much fun.”

  “You get to make your art, answer to no one but yourself, eat pie every day.”

  “I never knew you were into metal art.”

  Bridget rolled her eyes, then dabbed them with a napkin. “You know what I mean. You have a career. Something to point to and say, ‘Hey I did that.’”

  “You have a huge house, you’re getting married, and get to use phrases like ‘Let’s brunch’ in daily life and not sound like a poser.”

  “The house belonged to my ex, the lifestyle is courtesy of my fiancé, and I hate brunching,” Bridget admitted.

  “Okay, what’s yours?” Ali asked, and when Bridget looked ready to cry again, she took her hand. It was awkward, but Kennedy did it whenever someone was upset, so Ali gave it a try. “What did you set out to do?”

  “Have a fabulous life.” Bridget sniffed. “God, it sounds so lame, even to me.”

  Yeah, it sounded lame, but then again who was Ali to judge someone else’s dream? Hers had been to find a career where she could use a blowtorch all day, because she liked how it felt in her hand. The bending metal into cool shapes came later.

  “Define fabulous.”

  “I don’t know,” Bridget said, sounding as lost as she did embarrassed. “I like to make things pretty and find a place for everything.”

  Now they were getting somewhere. “Like what you did with Dad’s house?”

  “Yeah,” Bridget said. “When Mom was in one of her dating phases, I used to spend a lot of time rearranging my bedroom. Every weekend I would move stuff around, try to find the perfect spacing. Or I’d set the dining room table for just myself, using all of the pretty plates.” She laughed. “Did you know Mom has a china pattern for every marriage? Two from Dad’s.”

  “I’m not surprised.” When Gail tossed out the old, she made sure that when it came to bringing in the new…everything was new. Furniture, houses, personalities, political views.

  The only consistent thing in her life was Bridget. Who was now doing the same thing.

  “After the honeymoon, why don’t you look into event planning,” Ali suggested, even though she wanted to tell her to put the wedding on hold until she figured out if marrying Jamie was the best thing for her. But Ali was practicing the art of remaining neutral, listening rather than telling Bridget what her problem was. “I bet there are some openings to start as an assistant to help make contacts.”

  “I met a woman at one of Hawk’s parties and she asked me to help her with a big event for the NHL, and if things worked out, maybe it could become a steady thing.”

  “That’s great!”

  Bridget looked up, her face unreadable. “Hawk was drafted by the Blackhawks the next week, and he had to be there for training. So I had to pass.”

  “Why didn’t you do the party and then go meet Hawk?” Ali asked, trying to get the topic away from the biggest obstacle left between them.

  Bridget took a sip of wine. “Hawk said that, too, but his career was taking off and I needed to focus on helping him get to the next level.”

  “Maybe it’s your turn to get to the next level,” Ali said.

  Bridget gave a nostalgic smile. “That’s what Hawk said after his accident. That it was my turn.”

  “Then why did you leave?” Ali asked, because, if they were going to talk about Hawk, they might as well talk about him.

  “I don’t know.” Bridget licked her spoon and set it down. “I was so good at being a hockey wife. Used to the long seasons, him being on the road, the parties, the press. Once that was gone, and he was home all the time, I got scared.”

  “Scared to spend that much time with him?” Ali said, thinking that waking up with Hawk every day, ending the evenings in his arms, would be something to treasure. Not something to run from.

  “Scared that spending that much time together would only cause the excitement and love to fizzle out,” Bridget said with so much conviction, Ali didn’t know whether to hug her or sock her. “And I was right, he moved on.”

  “Only because you left him, even though he loved you,” Ali pointed out, not understanding how her sister could walk away from a man who had so much love to give. Then again, wasn’t that what she’d done with Marty all these years?

  Tested him to see just how far she could go before he came running after her.

  “I guess I’m more like Mom than I thought,” Bridget whispered softly, and for the first time in her life, Ali was thankful to be the odd Marshal woman out.

  Chapter 13

  Exhausted and covered from head to toe in little bits of metal and sawdust, Ali dropped the sander down on the workbench and flipped up her mask. The sun was barely setting on Saturday, and Ali was ready for bed. With Bridget taking care of Marty, Ali had been able to work on the commissioned piece around the clock for the past few days—a luxury she hadn’t had since his heart attack.

  And it showed in her work. The structure was exactly what she’d pictured in her mind. Clean steel wrapped around driftwood and old cider barrels, secured with vintage bronze railroad nails. It was strong and powerful, but had an element of femininity, a sensual shape to the lines that she’d never used in her work before.

  Rubbing her tired eyes, Ali promised her bed that as soon as she cleaned up, they could hyphenate together for a few weeks. It was a lie, of course. She only had until tomorrow morning, when she was scheduled to deliver the piece to her client.

  Too tired to take off her coveralls, Ali closed up the shop and headed upstairs for a cold drink. She had a nice aged Scotch that she pulled out for these kinds of occasions.

  Needing a celebration and a nightcap all in one, she poured two fingers over ice and set the glass on the counter. She unzipped the top of her coveralls and, letting them hang off her hips, took a seat at the counter as she took the first sip.

  The smooth liquid burned all the way down her throat, loosening the tension behind her shoulders. She took another, and when the fiery heat reached her belly, she did a quick one-two and removed her bra.

  Ali let out a relieved moan and rolled her shoulders. She loved her work, but all of the heavy materials and equipment tended to take a toll on her body.

  Afraid she’d fall asleep if she didn’t move, Ali stood and stretched, walking to the windows to watch the sun take its final dip into the bay. The gas lamps on Main Street gave a warm glow, showcasing the hive of activity below. Weekend tourists sifted through the quaint mom-and-pop shops, families were enjoying a weekend stroll, and across the parking lot, a good portion of Destiny Bay was getting its Happy Hour on.

  Ali considered going next door, ordering a drink, and celebrating the moment with friends. But that would require a shower, a fresh change of clothes, and seeing her sister—who was taking Marty to the grill for dinner.

  But it would also mean seeing Hawk. Ali’s body hummed to life at the thought, and those flutters, which had been bothering her all week, kicked it up to wild flock levels in her stomach.

  It was pathetic really, she thought with a smile. It had been only three days since their kiss that spurred the great stick debate, and she already missed him. Her gaze traveled to his bedroom window and paused when she saw a shadow move from inside.

  Pretty sure he was already at the bar, and wondering if maybe he’d come back up to grab something, Ali walked closer to the window. When she still couldn’t get the view she wanted, she pressed her face closer, until she
was leaving little hot breath marks on the pane.

  Her eyes trained in on a single focus point, she held still and watched, sipping her Scotch. After a long moment, she decided she was just tired and went to head to the bathroom when the light across the parking lot clicked on and—Sweet baby Jesus!

  Ali spun to her left, plastering her back against the wall. The quick movement sent her Scotch over the side of the glass, and her heart plummeting to her toes.

  Because right there, on the other side of the window, walking from the bathroom to his closet, was Hawk. Wearing nothing but shower water, a towel, and a sexy hawk tattoo over his right shoulder.

  Ali waited a good minute, to be sure if he had seen a suspicious movement, say by a peeper, that he’d moved on. No matter how many times she told herself to knock it off, to go take a cold shower and stop being a creeper, she couldn’t resist one last stare.

  One look out the window and her mouth went dry—the exact opposite of what was going on below the equator. Because instead of finding him looking through his closet—he was looking at her.

  Arms resting on the windowsill above his head, the bottom sill cutting him off right where the towel started, he focused his gaze directly on her, that double-barreled smile out for good measure.

  Then he added a little lift of the brow, which turned the smile into a grin and implied a certain level of male smugness. A little male smugness was okay, she decided, since it had been male supremeness that had her staring in the first place.

  She lifted her glass in toast, and when he winked, she took a sip. Then her phone rang. She looked at the number and back to the window.

  One hand was still supporting his weight on the sill, making his arm go into Hulkian mode. The other hand was holding his phone to his ear. He waved his pinkie her way.

  With a smile, she swiped Answer.

  “You aren’t very good at the whole window-watching thing,” Hawk said. “The point is not to get caught.”

  The sips of Scotch must have already started working, or maybe it was fried brain cells from seeing Hawk nearly naked. “I actually like it when you watch me watching you.”

  She heard his breath go gruff through the phone. “Sunshine, if I didn’t have to go run the bar, I could watch you all night.”

  “I won’t keep you then,” she said, letting her coveralls fall to the floor, leaving her in a tank top and boy-cut panties.

  “Luke can cover the bar for a few more minutes.” Even though the light was behind him, shadowing him in a silhouette, she could still feel those intense dark brown eyes zeroed in on her. “All those times I’d sit with you in your shop and throw back a beer while you were in your coveralls, you were wearing—”

  “Nothing but panties,” she finished and plopped down on the couch, then flicked on the light behind her so he had a clear view.

  Watching him through the window was hot. Him watching her? So erotic she felt her body dampen. “And all of those times you were watching hockey from your bed, you could have been watching this.”

  “What makes you think I was watching hockey?” he said, and Ali felt her heart stop. He let that go for a moment, giving her sternum time to do one final thump against her chest, then added, “What do the hearts on your panties say?”

  Stunned that he could see that much detail, she looked down at the red and pink hearts and grinned. “‘Eat me.’”

  He chuckled, soft and low and so sexy, her body shuddered.

  “What are you drinking?”

  “Scotch.” She held up the glass for him to inspect it.

  “Nearly empty. You know, friends don’t let friends drink alone. I should come over.”

  “We’re not friends, we’re sexy friends, remember? There’s a difference. And you can’t come over, you have a bar to run.”

  “I have a few minutes.”

  “You never take a few minutes.” She took a stealth sniff of her shirt and grimaced. “Plus, I need to shower first.”

  A groan of pure agony and disappointment came muffled through the phone. Then Hawk paused, both eyebrows lifting in a move so sexy, Ali licked her lips. “I can wash your back.” She tapped her watch. “Right.” Deep exhale, followed by, “Wait? Is that the Scotch you hide above the fridge? Holy shit, you finished your piece.”

  “Just a few minutes ago.”

  His voice softened. “How did it turn out?”

  “Inspired,” she said and knew it was the truth. Once she got focused, the piece almost built itself. The process had been intense and consuming, and even though her limbs were mush, she wanted to keep going.

  Kind of like sex with Hawk, she thought deliciously.

  “You’re an inspiring woman,” he said, with pride so thick, Ali felt her eyes burn. “I can’t wait to see it.”

  She wanted him to see it. Wanted to show him this new side of her art, the side of her that she’d kept hidden until now.

  Until Hawk.

  “I deliver it tomorrow morning,” she told him, knowing he’d be dead asleep when the delivery truck arrived.

  “Well, then I guess that means a sleepover at your place,” he said. “You provide the bed and I’ll bring the pj’s. I have an old jersey that would look great with your legs.”

  She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them. “Are you sure?”

  “Like I said, the watching is fun, but I am more of a touchy-feely kind of guy,” he said lowly. “Leave a key under the mat and I’ll head over after I close up the bar.”

  She heard him disconnect, and then with a wink, Hawk walked back to the bathroom—the towel nowhere in sight.

  * * *

  Ali had just fallen asleep when her cell buzzed. Her first thought was Hawk calling to say he’d closed up early and was on his way over. Her body throbbed at the thought, but as she looked at her cell, she knew it wasn’t him.

  “Hey,” she said into the phone, trying to clear the sleep from her throat.

  “Hi, honey, it’s Loraine,” the older woman said.

  “Oh, did the snorkel gear I ordered for Bridget come in?” It wasn’t the most romantic wedding gift, but she knew her sister would have fun—once she got over getting her hair wet.

  “I’m afraid I’m not at the post office. I’m at the hospital with your dad.”

  Ali bolted up, wide awake, her feet already diving into the nearest pair of shoes. “Is it another heart attack?”

  “They won’t tell me. But I know he overdid it a little at dance class and his sugar levels were low, so I called an ambulance.”

  Ali told her pulse to slow down, told herself that he was okay, that it wasn’t another heart attack. But all she could remember was finding him on his boat. Facedown on the deck, head bleeding, and unresponsive. She’d thought he was dead, that she’d lost him.

  And she made herself a promise that day that she’d never let him get to that point again. Even if it meant putting her life on hold for a while, until he got back on his feet. But he wasn’t there yet, and now she was getting a call.

  Terror clogged her throat. “What hospital?”

  “Destiny Bay Memorial. They’re moving him to Urgent Care.”

  Ali scribbled it on a notepad next to the bed, then grabbed her sweatshirt and keys. “Thank you so much for taking care of him and for calling me. I will be there in ten minutes.”

  Chapter 14

  Ali made it in six.

  Her heart was racing as fast as her speedometer as she saw the red lights of the emergency room. The drive had been a blur; all she remembered was getting the call and then seeing the turnoff sign for the hospital.

  The parking lot was packed, ambulances and cars everywhere, her mind spinning too fast to search for an empty spot. Pulling up to the curb, Ali cut the engine and tore out of her car. Ignoring someone telling her she couldn’t park there, she tossed them the keys and pushed through the emergency room door, heading straight toward the nurses’ desk.

  “Hi, hello?” she said, and a woman on the phone h
eld up a finger to wait. Ali had a finger of her own, but knew it would not help her get to Marty any faster. “I see that it’s busy here, but I need to see my dad. His name is Martin Marshal.” Ali reached out and grabbed the phone from the nurse’s hand. “Martin Marshal, he was brought in—”

  “Honey, over here.”

  Ali turned and saw Loraine, dressed in a layered red and black gown with black lace gloves, waving her closer.

  “Sorry,” she told the nurse and rushed over. “Is he okay?”

  “It was a mild attack,” Loraine explained, and Ali pressed her hand to her own heart—certain that it had stopped. “But the doctor says he’ll be just fine. He’s a little dehydrated, so they’re giving him fluids now and the doctors want to keep him overnight for observation.”

  It was as if a wrecking ball had slammed into her chest at full force. Wind knocked out of her, Ali held on to one of the chairs for support. “What happened?”

  “He looked a little wilted when he came to dance class tonight. It’s the late class so it’s not uncommon for some of the folks to look a little sleepy.” Loraine pulled helplessly at the skirt of her gown. “But he looked really sleepy. We’ve been partners for a few weeks now, so I’ve gotten good at reading him. Like I can tell he’s been practicing at home because he’s been getting really light on his feet. But when he looked lighter than normal, I asked him if he was okay. He said he was just flush from being out on the water all day.”

  Ali pressed the heel of her hand against her eyes. “He said he was on the water all day?”

  “I hate to say this.” Loraine looked around, then lowered her voice. “I think he’s been out on the water every day. Something about trying to teach Bridget how to deep-sea fish for her honeymoon.”

  Ali took in a big breath. It did nothing to stop the rage from building. Bridget had promised her she’d take care of him, that everything would be okay.

  This situation. Their family. As far from okay as they could be.

  “Does he know you called me?”

  Loraine shook her head, the red flower in her hair coming loose. “He looked so sorry for ruining dance class, I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d have to wake you up.”