much. Harlow had joined her and Jade after ditching the football player, and they’d laughed themselves silly in the hotel bar, and then after it closed, out on the deck. The talk had been about the past. She knew her reasons for not telling her friends about what was happening in her life now, but she also knew they’d all fess up soon enough.
Thoughts of Wyatt had floated through her brain all night. Just images, stray thoughts. She’d slipped once about him, and the others had glommed on to it like leeches. After that she’d been careful not to mention the bar. They all knew it. And soon enough they’d all be checking him out.
As the taxi pulled up on the beach road, she smiled at Ronny’s sky blue shack, the only one like it on this stretch of the best surfing beach for miles. The city had tried to make him change the color back when she’d been a teenager, but they’d given up eventually. That house was as much a landmark as anything in Temptation Bay, and surfers came from all over to meet Ronny, in his fifties, and still a legend in his own right.
She gave the cab driver too much money, then slipped off her sandals to walk the familiar sand, clean and cool in the early morning air. She’d worn one of her old sundresses, something she’d taken with her to Chicago out of nostalgia more than anything, but hardly ever wore. Last time had been on her last visit... God, three years ago already. How had that happened? She needed to come more often. He missed her. A lot. He’d promised to make her favorite breakfast, chocolate chip pancakes, and swore his groupies, the surfers that swarmed in the summer and made his shack their headquarters, were banished for the day.
She hadn’t the heart to tell him she hadn’t liked chocolate chip pancakes since high school. It didn’t matter. She’d eat whatever he had. Guess she missed him just as much.
The front door was open, but she stopped on the second step up to the porch. The board had been replaced recently. Unfortunately, the other two hadn’t, and it was evident that they’d already started rotting.
But that was her dad. Fix what’s broke. If it’s not, why bother? There were waves to catch. Fish to fry. Books to read. He’d always been like that. It had driven her mother nuts, and as Cricket had grown up, it had bothered her, too.
The whole house was in need of repairs. Shingles missing on the roof, one window broken, fixed with duct tape, the paint was peeling, and she was pretty sure the whole place was leaning a little to the left.
“Well, are you coming in or what?”
She grinned and trotted past the porch, straight into his arms.
“Oh, Baby Girl, it’s been too long. And you’re too skinny.”
She leaned back, studying his face. Wow, she’d never thought it would happen, but he was looking his age. “Look who’s talking. Hasn’t anyone been feeding you?”
“I’m not an invalid. I take care of myself just fine.” He pulled her tight again. “Besides, being lean is good for longevity. I’m thinking of going macrobiotic. I read a really interesting book about it.”
“You’d blow away in the wind if you lost more weight,” she said. “I’m actually surprised that you and this old shack didn’t get flown to Oz during that last big northern.”
“That’s the beauty of the Bay, my girl. We’re protected here, just like the pirates.”
“Oh, for... You know the cab driver from the airport was talking about that stupid treasure on my way here. I can’t believe it hasn’t been completely debunked by now, and what’s that smell?”
“Goddammit.” Ronny abandoned her to the kitchen, where at least one chocolate chip pancake had become a lava cake.
“It’s all right,” he said. “I mixed up plenty.”
He always had. Burning meals was another Ronny specialty. Which was troubling. Although she wasn’t going to say anything yet. Not until she found out more about the Jeep accident and the fall on the dock.
“How’s the coffee?” she asked.
“Like always. Tastes like motor oil, keeps you up as long as you need to be.”
“Tell you what, just for a change of pace, I’ll fix you some a little milder.” Anticipating his protest, before he opened his mouth she said, “I’m not throwing away your tar. You can heat it up later. But I need coffee that’s not ninety-four octane.”
“Be my guest, Baby Girl. There’s OJ in the fridge, too.”
Butter sizzled on his old cast-iron grill while she busied herself with the beverages, pouring them both a glass of juice as the new coffee brewed.
“What do you hear from your mother?”
“She’s good. Still living in Paris with the judge.”
“That’s number four, right?”
“Yep. But she likes him. He’s got hobbies.”
“Hobbies. So she can shop all she wants without him tagging along?”
“That’s right.” Cricket grinned. “And they like taking river cruises. I think the last one was from Budapest to Amsterdam.”
“Huh. I’m glad she’s happy.”
“She asks about you, too, you know.”
“What do you tell her?”
“That you’re forever Ronny. That you don’t have a new woman in your life. Or has that changed?”
“Nope. I’m forever me. How about you? Got yourself some hot prospect?”
“I’m too busy working to have any kind of prospect.”
“That’s a shame, Baby Girl. I’d like you to fall madly in love with a good man.”
Cricket smiled. That didn’t surprise her. Ronny had always had a romantic soul. “Well, that’s not exactly off my wish list. Just not in the immediate forecast.”
“Put a couple forks on the table, huh? The food’ll be ready in a sec.”
She did, along with the juice. His old coffeepot took forever, but that was okay. “How’s the charter business going?”
“Good. You know summer’s always busy for me. Lot of tourists wanting to catch their trophies. I had one guy wanting to know where he could get a baby marlin stuffed. Got all upset when I told him we had to throw it back, that it was below the limit.”
“What about your regulars?”
“Yeah, yeah, I get enough repeat business to pay the bills, but the extras help out for the winters. With the crazy weather patterns now, you never know what to expect.” He brought two plates over, each one pretty much covered in a giant pancake. “There you go, Baby Girl. Your favorite.”
“I see you didn’t forget the butter and the syrup.”
“Nope. Never will.” He sat down across from her, at the table he’d had as long as she could remember, made from driftwood by a local craftsman. It was really ugly and wobbled, but
