The Chance (Thunder Point #4)(50)

When they finally left the restaurant after a long dinner, Ray Anne drove them back to Cliff’s, Al’s chin on his knees. His truck sat in the parking lot, looking pretty lonely. It was late and the restaurant was near closing.

She turned toward him. “If you’re interested, you could follow me home to my house for a nightcap or cup of coffee.”

Al frowned a little bit. He gently touched her shoulder. “Listen, that’s nice. I have to mention a couple of things. You already know—I’m not likely to be here long-term. If I’m here a year, that’s real long-term for me.”

“I know,” she said, smiling. “If I date you a month, you’re really something. I didn’t ask you if you wanted to make an investment. I asked you if you wanted a drink.”

“The other thing...I was married. It was a while ago. Over thirty years. I wasn’t good at it. I haven’t been tempted since.”

And she laughed.

“I know you don’t think that’s funny,” he said.

“I do, as a matter of fact. I’ve been married three times. I’m a very slow learner. Apparently I’m not good at it, either. And I’m not looking for a family, for God’s sake.”

“What are you looking for?” he asked. “Because I like you, but I don’t want to end up in a bad situation. You know—where we’re angry at each other because of someone’s failed expectations. I like my job, the town, you, and I hate drama. I’d like things easy. Do you know what I mean?”

“Can we start with a drink?” she asked. “I like you, too. I think I’m past romantic expectations. Or illusions.”

“How old are you?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Forty-two,” she said. “Or fifty-two. Or sixty-one. I can never remember. How important is that?”

He grinned. “Show me the way, Ms. Ray Anne.”

He pried himself out of that little car, found his way into his truck with some relief in his joints. He followed her to a little house up the hill. It was a comfortable, small house, maybe a little overdecorated—lots of mirrors and candles and other girlie things. He had a Scotch. It turned out there was no duct tape or bailing wire involved in her figure—Ray Anne was nicely put together.

He left in the morning. With a smile on his face.

* * *

When Laine stopped by the diner on her way home one sunny afternoon, Ashley was behind the counter. She said, “Mom said to send you out to Cooper’s if you dropped by today.”

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I think it’s an impromptu hen party. In the sun for a change, instead of in a back booth.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” she said. “I’m walking and leaving my car right where it is.”

“I’ll make sure my new stepfather doesn’t tow it, how’s that?”

“You are a generous woman,” Laine said with a laugh.

By the time she got just past the marina she could hear the laughter of women floating down the beach. It put a little spring in her step. How long had it really been since she’d had the kind of women friends who could laugh like idiots over every other comment? She’d had women friends, of course, even though law enforcement was still dominated by men. But friends like these—from various walks of life, from waitress to Coast Guard pilot recently retired? Not even in college! If Eric was the greatest benefit from this hiatus from the FBI, the women here were a close second.

She could see them up there, commanding the deck. They had pulled a couple of tables together, divided by generation. At one small, round table sat Lou McCain and her best friends Carrie James, Gina’s mother and the deli owner, and Ray Anne Dysart, Realtor extraordinaire. At the table next to them were Gina, then Sarah, Cooper’s very pregnant wife, and Devon.

“Laine! Hurry! You have to hear this!” Gina shouted.

Laine took the steps two at a time.

“Maybe she already knows,” Ray Anne said.

“Know what?”

“She’s seeing Al, from the station,” Lou announced.

“I didn’t say ‘seeing,’” Ray Anne corrected. “I said we’d been out to dinner a couple of times. We happened to show up for happy hour at Cliff’s more than once, decided to have dinner.”

“At Cliffhanger’s?” Laine asked.

“Well, no. We just went to Bandon—not too far. We had Italian once. And once we went out for Chinese. And ended up getting takeout...” She fluttered her lashes.

Everyone howled.

“How’s he like that pole-dancing routine?” Lou asked, laughing.

“As a matter of fact, I took pole-dancing lessons to keep my legs in shape and he said he liked what I did to a pair of high heels. So there! He’s very polite. Not like you, Louise.”

“He is polite,” Laine acknowledged. “Very nice man.”

“Handsome man,” Sarah said. “He’s been out here a couple of times and he pumped my gas last week. He has very good teeth.”

“Yes, he does,” Ray Anne said. “I’m not even sure how old he is.”

“Yes, but does he know how old you are?” Carrie asked.

“Pfffttt. I don’t even know how old I am.”