All That I Want: A Queensbay Small Town Romance Read online

“What are you doing?”

  “Not walking you home,” he answered and also stopped, so that a gap remained between them. He could play this game too.

  “You’re following me?”

  “Yup. Not walking you home. Can’t stop me from following you to make sure you get home safely.”

  “Who’s the creep now?”

  “You don’t have anything to worry about with me. I’m not a creep.”

  She looked at him, as if deciding something, then shook her head. “Just until my street, then you can go.”

  He pretended to think about it for a moment, before agreeing.

  He kept his pace just off hers, deliberately hanging back just a little. He decided that this little was a little game and he was starting to enjoy it. Sure, he had chased a few women in his time, but this was different. Colleen seemed perfectly comfortable ignoring him, as if she weren’t aware of him at all. Time to remind her that he wasn’t going anywhere. Just when he had made the decision to stop mooning over her and start pursuing her, he couldn’t say. Sometime between getting her a new job and seeing her at it. Colleen McShane was not an easy woman to forget, and Jake thought that this was his chance to see if he wasn’t ready to get over her.

  “Lovely night back here. How is it up there?” he called to her. The clouds were coming in faster and he wondered if the rain would come sooner than he’d thought.

  “Shhh, you’ll wake the whole town,” she said, without even looking over her shoulder.

  He looked around. No one would ever accuse Queensbay of being the kind of place that never slept. They were almost past the part of town that had most of the shops, and they were all closed and dark. In half a block, they would be in a residential area, the streets of houses gradually rising up the bluffs. Along the hills that hugged the harbor was the section of town known as The Heights. Solid, large Victorians and Craftsman houses sat, interspersed with some more modern homes, all covered with windows to take advantage of the water views.

  Colleen’s house was in a different section, the one that was straight behind the commercial strip, a cluster of smaller homes, from genuine saltboxes and Colonials to more recently built Cape Cods, all on postage-stamp-size lots. In this part of town, a person had better like their neighbors. The boom in fortunes that had hit the rest of Queensbay had passed this part of town over. The old iron and gas street lamps that were a distinctive feature of the commercial section of the village, gave way to more utilitarian fiberglass and fluorescent lights that pooled in dingy yellow circles, illuminating the tired-looking cars lining the streets.

  “We’re the only ones up,” he pointed out.

  “These people have to get up early. You know, the bus drivers, the construction workers, the fishermen, the worker bees.”

  He caught up to her, until he was just behind her.

  She turned. Her blue eyes were dark, searching. Once, a long time ago, she had been a bright, sun-drenched blonde, but her hair had darkened to a richer brunette. There was no smile on her face.

  “This is my street. You don’t have to come any farther.”

  He nodded. He knew that her house was about halfway down the block, a late Queen Anne Victoria, on the small side, but with some nice detailing. He also knew that it needed a paint job, or at least it had the last time he had driven past. He tended to notice these things, and the details stuck with him. In fact, he knew that the house next to hers had gotten a new roof last year, and that the one three doors down needed one.

  “I don’t mind going farther,” he told her.

  “I can still call the police and tell them you followed me home.”

  He shrugged and held up his hands. “Fine, have it your way.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and her lips twitched as if she wanted to say something. Instead, she shook her head gently, her expression growing almost sad. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but she just turned, hiking her bag higher on one shoulder and took off down the street. It wasn’t quite a run, but it was quick enough that she was to her house and up the steps before he could say anything more. He stood there, for a moment, in the light spilling out from the street lamp. Somewhere, down the road, a dog barked, and the wind rustled through the trees. He felt the rain drop, just as he heard the first splat of water, big fat drops, against the pavement. He cursed, wishing he had brought a jacket or maybe an umbrella, then turned and walked quickly back toward town and his apartment.

  Chapter 3

  Jake moved through the throng of bodies gyrating to the thump of the music. Whoever controlled the playlist had decided to channel a club-like vibe, and the music had no words but a beat that made it easy to dance to. Red plastic cups were held high, definitely not filled with soda, their red-colored contents jostling and spilling over as the guys and girls jumped up and down in a drunken approximation of dancing. No one cared. It was prom night, and everyone was in a party mood.

  The night was warm and close, a haze of humidity settling down over the scene. The only thing heavier was the fog of hormones, all too palpable. He surveyed the scene, feeling both detached and superior. Been here, done that, even it had just been a year ago. Wait until these kids got to a big time frat party. He took a sip from his own Solo cup. Some sort of punch, fruity with a definite bite of alcohol. He should know, since it had been his job to bring the liquor. He was pretty sure that was reason number two Darby Reese had asked him to go with her. Reason number one was that he was Big Reg-approved. Reg was Darby’s father, and he wasn’t going to let just anyone take his precious daughter to the prom.

  Prom night: full of anticipation, fear, and excitement. These kids didn’t know what life had in store for them. How good high school had been. But he did, now that he was a freshman at UConn, soon to be a sophomore, and he felt lordly with the wisdom a year of college had given him. High school had been simple. Easy. College was harder. Playing football was harder, school was harder, everything was more complicated, more pressure. The question of what he was going to do with his life seemed to lie heavy on him. Taking Darby to prom had seemed like a nice way to forget about all that.

  Of course Big Reg, Darby’s dad, had made the rules clear. He would be allowed to take Darby to the prom, and he would be allowed to escort her to the after party, and he would be allowed to bring her home by her curfew. But, in between he was to make sure that no one, and that included him, touched Darby.

  Big Reg, who had hands that could have doubled as meat hooks, had poured him an ice tea and made him a hamburger, on the house, since the whole conversation had taken place at the Reese family deli. Funny, the burger, which was one of Jake’s favorites, had tasted like sawdust in his mouth after Reg’s lecture on respect and description of what he, Big Reg, would do to anyone who touched his precious Darby. Not that Jake liked Darby that way. They’d grown up together; their fathers were the best of friends. She was like a little sister to him, an attractive, smart little sister who had looked pretty damn good in her dress, but still, a little sister.

  So now he was here playing bodyguard to a girl who had no intention of keeping her promise to her daddy to behave. The seniors of Queensbay High had taken over a no tell motel, its only distinction being that it was close to the water. It had a crappy pool, skanky rooms, and beach access to the placid waters of Long Island Sound. But, no one cared. The music was turned way up, prom dresses and rented tuxes had been shed for shorts and skimpy t-shirts and people were promising to be best friends forever and to never lose touch and remembering all the good times they had.

  Jake kept pushing through the crowd. He had lost sight of Darby and that was not good. She had tried to kiss him, a real kiss, and he had been tempted to kiss her back, but the thought of Big Reg had effectively stifled all desire. Besides, to him, she was just Darby, so he had pushed her away, and she had shot him a challenging look that only meant he was going to have trouble tonight and disappeared into the crowd.

  He had meant to follow, but then thought it would be a good ide
a to give her some space, so he had gotten a drink, then run into a few guys he knew and had spent a while answering questions about what it was like to play college ball. He realized that Darby had been gone a while, and when he started to ask where, someone had said that they had seen her go off with Aaron Miller, and that was not a good thing. Aaron Miller was a tennis player and one smooth bastard. Darby had seemed intent on having something happen with someone tonight, and Aaron Miller was probably not as afraid of Big Reg as he should be. Jake didn’t like to think what would happen to him if he failed to keep Darby out of trouble.

  He moved more quickly, giving nods to people who seemed to know him. He stumbled out toward the end of the row of rooms, to where a tall tree speared up toward the sky. Grass and sand mixed together, and he thought he saw her sitting there, head down on a bench, silhouetted in silver in the dim light of the moon. Goddammit, it looked like she was crying. He wondered what Aaron had done to her. Whatever it was, Jake would make sure he paid. He stepped out onto the sandy path, his feet sinking into the sand and muffling his footsteps. It was quiet here, the music and the sound of drunk and happy kids muted to background noise.

  She looked up. It wasn’t Darby. He should have known. She was too blonde, the hair turning to silver in the moonlight. Colleen McShane. Jake swallowed. She wore cut-off jean shorts and a tight little tank top that exposed just a bit of her belly, which was flat, tan, and just a little too enticing. They had been in an art class together, and once she had said that he was a good artist. Then he had watched her in the school play and in a practice debate that the whole school had been forced to sit through. Something about her caught his eye, and he had made a few attempts to talk to her. He had even asked her out on a date, but she had coolly ignored him.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said, which came out as a stammer, and he swallowed. There was no need to be nervous, he told himself. He wasn’t some high school kid. He was a college man. But there was something almost like scorn in her eyes as she answered.

  “You’re not.”

  Once again he had the sense that Colleen McShane could care less whether he was there or not, lived or died. He simply didn’t register for her. Still, he couldn’t help but notice that her eyes were blue, a dark, deep blue, hard to see in the dim, washed light, but now he was certain that they were glittering, as if filled with tears. Colleen McShane had earned a reputation as an ice queen. She was a cheerleader, a great student, and hot. Yet she said no to all dates and appeared aloof as if she were better than the rest of them. It had only made her more desirable.

  He wanted to turn away. He needed to find Darby. If Darby found out he was talking to Colleen he would be in for it. They were considered frenemies, who couldn’t decide if they liked or hated each other. The latest disaster had something to do about the vote for class president, if he recalled correctly. But Colleen looked like someone had just run over her dog. He couldn’t bring himself to abandon her.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, and he should have turned away then, should have run far away, but he was curious. On a night when every one of her classmates was celebrating, what could be so bad that it would leave her here instead, alone, at the edge of the crowd? If she said she was fine, he would leave and continue on with his mission of rescuing Darby from the clutches of Aaron Miller. Do the job he was supposed to do.

  “Want to take a road trip to Vegas, pull my deadbeat dad out of the Elvis chapel, and tell him to come to graduation?”

  Her voice was flippant but she turned away immediately, as if embarrassed by what she had said.

  He couldn’t leave now, as much as he might want to. There was something about the look in her eyes, the way her lower lip trembled, the way a twinkle of light caught at the necklace that hung down, dipping below her tank top, right there to the swell of her breasts. He swallowed. He should not have looked there. He carefully brought his eyes up to her face.

  A road trip with Colleen McShane had some definite possibilities.

  He went and sat down next to her.

  “Think we could make it back by Monday?” he asked. “Don’t you guys have a week of school left? Finals?” He could play this game too.

  “What do you care about finals, Jake?” she said and raised her chin just a little. She was prettier than he remembered, not that he had been thinking about her much. Okay, so maybe he had made a sketch or two of her in his notebook, but he hadn’t gotten the nose right. He’d drawn it too straight and in real life, it curled up, slightly pert, and it gave her face much more animation.

  She had said his name as if she knew him. Sure he had been the quarterback of the football team, but he was used to such disregard from her that he couldn’t help the flicker of excitement sparked by her recognition of him. She had said his name, and now she was looking at him, her blue eyes level and clear, as if she were waiting.

  She smelled good, sweet, like lemon and flowers, and her hair was soft. He reached out and touched it. He didn’t mean to. It just happened, and she didn’t hit him or tell him to go take a hike.

  In a moment he was kissing her, and she was kissing him back. He grew bolder, and touched her and again, when she didn’t resist, his let his hands roam over her, feeling her warmth. She was curves and strength, smooth skinned and beautiful, and he wanted her. She seemed, unbelievably, to want him. Somehow, and even in this dream, especially in the dream he could never quite figure out how it happened, how within minutes they seemed to find themselves in a room together, laughing, touching, kissing, all the while him trying his best to keep his cool.

  He was a college man and this was supposed to happen to him all the time, though it had never quite happened like this, this smoothly, this perfectly with a girl who took his breath away. He ignored the misgivings that pricked at him, that this was too easy, that this wasn’t supposed to happen this way because she was laughing as clothes came off, and he was laughing with her and that everything about it was perfect.

  Until the moment when the door was flung open, a bright hard light came on, and the covers were thrown off and a frighteningly calm Darby Reese said, “You have got to be kidding me.”

  It was then that Jake always woke up. Well, not always. Once, the dream had kept going, and he and Colleen McShane had had their moment together. But this morning, in the bright cool light that came in through the bare window, the dream ended as it normally did, leaving him both aroused and disappointed. He lay there, as the dawn slowly gave way to the morning, light pouring into his windows. He had come home last night, soaking wet from the unexpected rain shower and hadn’t been able to fall asleep, tossing and turning and thinking of Colleen until finally he had started to dream of her.

  This wasn’t the first time he had dreamed of her. All that summer he’d been tormented by thoughts of her. Over time, when he had realized that she wasn’t coming back, the dreams had faded. The memories, too, became muted. Then a few months ago she had quietly slipped back into town, and now he dreamed of her all of the time. Now he went out of his way to find her and be near her. Half the time she ignored him; the other half he fancied that he sensed a weakening of resolve. He never saw her with anyone else, a point in his favor. She seemed unreasonably opposed to him and just him. But last night had marked a thawing in their relationship. She had actually laughed at something he’d said.

  This slimmest of openings was something, and he would take it. He needed to get up soon and go to a job site that he knew was behind, and he was supposed to deliver a bid on a new commercial building. One of his crew had just had a baby, and he was sure that he was supposed to do something nice about that. Yet all he could think about was Colleen McShane, and the way the streetlight had made the back of her shimmery shirt glimmer as she had all but run away from him.

  Rolling over, he punched the pillow as if that would give vent to some of his frustration. He knew exactly why he couldn’t stop thinking of Colleen McShane. She was the one that had gotten away, the one he couldn
’t stop wondering “what if” about. And now she was here again, right in front of him, and he couldn’t get her out of his head.

  Chapter 4

  The morning came all too soon was Colleen’s first thought as the sun hit her face, and she was pulled toward consciousness. She’d been right in the middle of a dream, a very realistic, detailed dream that involved her and Jake Owen getting to know each other very intimately. The room was too hot, the one window that was propped open not providing enough of a cross breeze to combat the stuffiness. Or maybe she was just hot and bothered. Her breathing was fast, and her whole body tingled. The dream had been complete with activities in which she hadn’t engaged in a very long time. Not that she needed to, she told herself. There were plenty of other things to think about besides sex. She groaned, reminded herself to buy a fan, and gingerly opened one eye, and was met with a solemn pair of dark blue eyes and a tiny forehead wrinkled with concern.

  “Bunny is sick.” Adele’s voice was a whisper as if merely raising it would cause Bunny to feel even more ill.

  Colleen smiled and managed a surreptitious look at the clock. Six o’clock a.m. was early for someone who worked at a bar, but not for a five year old. It had been almost one o’clock before she had gotten home, just ahead of the rain and almost another hour before she could settle down and sleep.

  All of it was his fault. Jake’s offer to walk her home had kept him on her mind more than she should have allowed it to. Her only consolation was that he had probably gotten wet walking back. There’d been no sign he was prepared with an umbrella or a jacket. Served him right, she thought as she brought her attention back to the matter at hand. Bunny’s glassy brown eyes stared back at her while Adele’s blue ones were round and worried. Colleen reached out her hand and touched Bunny’s plush head.

  “He feels fine to me, hon,” she said, though in truth, Bunny, the stuffed dog, felt a little sticky. Probably from the toast Adele liked to have each morning. White toast with strawberry jam. Two pieces. Lightly toasted. Only about one and half ever eaten. The other half Bunny was supposed to eat but somehow never did.