“Have you at least seen the car? Is it as bad as I remember?” There was a whine in his voice I empathized with. Half the car was a beauty.
“Probably worse. It doesn’t take long for exposed metal to rust up here.”
I heard a strangled scream. “Fine. Screw her! She’ll see what I can do when I’m motivated.”
“I’d also advise you not to threaten someone while talking to a cop.”
“Not a threat. A promise.”
Chapter Ten
Kate
Bear arrived exactly at seven. Chaucer barked once to alert me and then stood by the door, tail wagging. But I was busy panicking. What the hell was I thinking, agreeing to go on a date? “No men” was the first item on my to-do list. My divorce wasn’t final yet. I had already proven to have poor decision-making skills. What was I doing? It had been over ten years since I’d been out on a date, out with a man other than Justin. Granted, Bear seemed nice, was wicked hot, and Chaucer loved him, but I couldn’t shake this nervous, unsettled feeling, two parts great and three parts wrong. Maybe I could call in sick. Through the door. Just shout, “I’m sick!”
After I’d left my ex and it was just Chaucer and me alone in a car for days on end, I began looking back over my marriage without the blinders of mistakenly placed faith. All the furtive looks and smiles I caught directed at other women, the late-night business dinners and client meetings took on new meaning. He hadn’t been tirelessly working to build his new business for us. He’d never stopped dating. Once I saw it, I couldn’t believe I’d been blind for so long. I’d wanted so much to love someone who could love me back that I hadn’t looked closely enough at the man declaring his devotion.
I’d accepted degradation and humiliation for the promise of affection. It was a hard thing to learn about one’s self. Consequently, I now had no faith in my ability to make good, sound, non-needy choices.
The knock came a moment later. I straightened my spine and reminded myself it was just dinner. I wasn’t making the same mistake again. Chaucer gave an impatient woof. A big, strong body rub was waiting for him on the other side of the door, and I was taking too damn long to open it.
I put my hand on Chaucer’s head, reminding him to stay, and then opened the door. Bear stood, smiling at both of us. He wore dark blue jeans with a white button-down under a navy sweater. He extended a hand for Chaucer, who looked up at me, waiting to be released. I gave him the hand movement and he barreled out, actually jumping up on Bear, Chaucer’s paws at Bear’s shoulders. I ran after him, apologies flying out of my mouth, but Bear just laughed.
“Oh, my God, I can’t believe he just did that! I’m so sorry!” I was trying to pull Chaucer down, but he wasn’t having any of it. “He knows never to jump. I can’t believe he didn’t knock you down the stairs. That’s a hundred and forty pounds of excited dog you just took to the chest.”
Bear was in the process of giving a very happy Newfoundland a full body rub. I thought Chaucer’s tail was going to wag right off his body. “It’s fine. I’m big. I can take it.” Bear gave him one last head scratch and then pushed my dog down. “Well, that was a nice greeting. You know, if you wanted to throw yourself at me, I’d catch you, too.”
I didn’t invite him in and felt rude for not doing so, but friends don’t let friends enter demon-possessed houses.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he said. “I called the Chart Room—a little restaurant up the coast, right on the water—and asked if they were still serving on the deck. It’s late in the season for outdoor dining, but they said they’d do it for us if we wanted to take Chaucer, too. So, would you rather be inside, warm and toasty but with the pooch left at home, or outside in the cold wind with the dog?”
My mind went blank. “You would do that for us? Sit in the cold and wind just so Chaucer could come, too?” Thoughtful, gorgeous dog lover with dimples, the man was too good to be true. And it meant my baby wouldn’t be locked in with vicious, nasty beasties. “Not that he deserves it after jumping on you, but I vote for cold and windy.”
He nodded and grinned. “My kind of woman. Okay, you’re going to need a heavy coat. Has he eaten yet?”
“He’ll lie to you, but he’s been fed.” I looked down at my pearl gray trousers and blazer, my ivory top, all remnants of a previous life. “This, however, is the best I can do on warm coats.” I grimaced. “Deal breaker?”
“No way. I have an extra coat you can use.” Bear headed for his truck. “You’ll drown in it, but it’ll keep you warm.”
Picking up my bag, I pulled out Chaucer’s leash. He danced around me before sitting politely. “Okay, buddy, you can come.” I leaned over and grabbed his big, bearlike head. “Best behavior. No jumping.” He wriggled, licking my fingers.
“Was that a yes?” Bear asked.
“Of course.”
I locked up the house—no idea why—and got a good look at Bear’s truck. There was a large open bed in back but no second row of seats in the cab. It was perfect for a contractor, but not so good for a dog, so I walked to my car. “Okay, looks like I’m driving, boys—saddle up.”
Bear pulled two coats from the cab of his truck before heading to my car. Unfortunately, in trying to be a gentleman, helping me on with his coat and opening my door, he saw the trashed driver’s side for the first time. I’ll give it to him. He paused, assessed, glanced at my red face, and made the valiant choice to ignore it. He was kind of perfect.
He directed us down through town and onto Highway 3. “It’s just a couple of miles past Bar Harbor.” He shifted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable spot that didn’t have the glove box digging into his knees or his head cocked at an angle to fit under the roof.
“I think on the return trip, you should sit in the back with Chaucer.” I grimaced in sympathy. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize this would be so cramped for you.”
Bear shifted sideways, taking the pressure off his knees but still needing to bow his head. He sighed. “Not your fault. The world was not made for big people. You guys”—he motioned to my legs—"you can just shift your seat forward, and you’re good. They don’t make cars big enough that I can just shift a seat and fit. It’s part of the reason I drive a pickup. It has the biggest cab on the market.” He looked behind him at the bench seat Chaucer was on. “I think you’re right, though. I will move back there. If I push the front seat forward, I’ll at least have more leg room.”
Chaucer popped up when Bear showed interest in him, leaning forward to rest his head next to Bear’s. Bear let his fingers sink into Chaucer’s ruff, scratching behind his ears.
“It’s up about a quarter of a mile on your right. See, right there. Good. Just park over to the side.”
