Take Me Tender Page 5

  “My mother asked for a second helping. It was the only time I saw her eat like that. She asked for a second helping, smiled with more energy than she’d had in months, and told me I had a marvelous talent. And then…” Never mind about that.

  “Then what?” When she didn’t answer, he prodded again. “Then what?”

  “Then she was hospitalized the next day. She had cancer and she died.” The words came out cool and matter-of-fact, just how she’d wanted them to.

  Still, the pain of the memory was sharper than anything her knee could deliver. She cried out, and staring down, was shocked to see blood floating in the sudsy water.

  “You’ve hurt yourself.” Jay was beside her, his long tanned arm pulling at her wrist. He put her thumb under a cool stream, then dried it on a paper towel and took an elastic bandage from a cabinet.

  Embarrassed, she grabbed it.

  “Nikki,” he protested. “Let me take care of you.”

  Let me take care of you? The words screeched in her head. No one could be relied upon for that. Backpedaling, she jerked out of his range, ignoring the puzzled expression on his face and the objection from her knee.

  “What’s wrong? I said, let me take care of that for you.” He nodded toward the elastic strip she held. “The Band-Aid.”

  “Oh. Of course. The Band-Aid.” Let me take care of that for you.

  Her heart still pounding too fast, there was nothing she could do but let him wrap the sticky bandage around her thumb. As soon as it was over, however, she found herself scrambling to the other side of the room.

  His eyebrows rose. “Are you all right?”

  No, but she was halfway to the front door and the distance made her breathe easier.

  “I forgot something at the market,” she said, speaking nearly as fast as her racing pulse. How could she have told him that stuff about cooking? And about her mother? It only made her feel vulnerable. Exposed. Weak.

  What she’d forgotten was her good sense. But her vow to stay detached—that she wouldn’t forget again.

  Four

  The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient….

  One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach—

  waiting for a gift from the sea.

  —ANNE MORROW LINDBERGH, AUTHOR

  The main road through the twenty-seven miles of coastline that made up Malibu was clobbered with cars. But Nikki didn’t mind the slow speed she was making northward. It gave her a chance to lookie-loo through the dark lenses of her sunglasses. On the beach side of the Pacific Coast Highway were mostly residences, but there was little to see of them besides generic garage doors and mysterious gates. With so much endless ocean to face, the homes were designed with backsides turned to the road’s vehicle noise and public commotion.

  The inland side was more interesting. Here was where most of the commercial establishments were congregated: surf shops with sidewalk displays of rubbery wetsuits and rental boards, as well as small clothing boutiques tucked between restaurants and real estate offices. But then the businesses petered out to expose stretches of undeveloped land that lent the place a decidedly rural feel. Looming over it all were the shrub-and-dirt faces of the Santa Monica Mountains that provided a natural barrier from the rest of L.A.

  Nikki flipped off her A/C and rolled down the windows of her secondhand sedan to let in the summer air. The salty smell was laced with car exhaust, but it tasted fresh enough to a SoCal native who’d been sucking in smog since birth. She took another long breath and let it out again. Then she glanced down at her bandaged thumb and shoved her fingers through the open window so the wind could whip away any of Jay’s touch that might still linger.

  Don’t stick your hand out too far, it might go home with another car.

  Her mother’s singsong warning popped suddenly into Nikki’s mind. She smiled for a moment, remembering another summer, another car ride, hands, head, even bare feet poked into open air as relief from the sticky confines of a vehicle with an unreliable cooling system. She could see the sunburned back of her father’s neck as he drove and how the wind caught the ends of her mother’s hair, creating a little golden-brown tornado that entertained Nikki on yet another leg of their family vacation.

  The last time there had been a family.

  Her smile dying, she brought her hand back into the car and tucked her thumb inside her fist as she deliberately turned her thoughts away from the past by taking in more of the Malibu sights. A public beach, flanked by a full parking lot, was teeming with towel-by-towel bodies. A pier stretched into the bay like a finger pointing to the horizon. A monster of a house poised dangerously on the hillside to her right, wearing an apron of yellow tarp to cover the dried mud that had probably slid in last spring’s late rains.

  Malibu was always one season away from disaster, she knew, whether it was the mudslides of the wet months or the devastating fires of the dry ones. Nikki quickly moved her gaze off the mansion that now looked too much like a desperate creature contemplating a suicidal leap. She was practiced at putting unpleasant thoughts from her mind.

  Look how brightly the bougainvillea bloomed.

  And wasn’t that a sight—a boy on a bicycle complete with a surfboard in a side-mounted carrier.

  Up ahead, a string of Malibu teens, who looked like the cast of an MTV reality show, single-filed along the highway. Two of the guys were setting volleyballs overhead as they walked while the girls were passing around a tall bottle of water. At the rear of the pack a couple was linked by clasped hands. A boy, tanned and dark, the girl—

  The girl was Jay’s cousin Fern.

  Nikki jerked her gaze away—and lucky she did, because the car in front of her suddenly braked. She managed not to smack its bumper, but as she waited for the traffic to pick up again, her attention swerved back to the young people.

  The leader with the volleyball picked his way between two boulders alongside the road and descended a well-worn path that took him below the level of the highway. The others followed like ducks after their mother even as that plastic bottle continued to be shared. Over the sound of the slow crawl of car tires heading in the opposite direction, Nikki thought she heard the wild giggle of one girl as she tossed that water back to Fern.

  Or was it water?

  Vodka was colorless. Gin. Everclear.

  Of course, Nikki had no way of determining what it was beyond none of her business, yet still she watched as Fern squeezed a stream into her mouth. When the boy she was with grabbed the container out of her hand and directed yet another blast between her lips, a shiver tracked down Nikki’s spine.

  A horn tapped behind her, she saw the car in front of her was long gone, and then the last two teens were gone, too, following their friends to the beach that was situated below a parking lot shared by a café and another adjoining business. Pressing on the accelerator, Nikki left it all behind. Shifting her shoulders to shake off her sudden tension, she wiped at the slate of her mind and proceeded toward the next stoplight.

  Where she found herself making an impromptu U-turn.

  Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. What? Stop! Don’t! Yet her body wouldn’t heed her brain’s commands as she steered into the parking lot for the businesses that overlooked the teenagers’ destination. Her car passed a metal sign ordering ABSOLUTELY NO BEACH PARKING! and was signed by Gabe Kincaid, owner, but the grumpy tone was mitigated by the cartoon sticker of a crab plastered below his name at a cheeky angle.

  Pulling into a narrow spot, Nikki gave a guilty second glance to the sign. It was not the beach, she told herself, but the café that was her destination. Especially now that she could see it was also part fish market, which was certainly well within the realm of her chefly interests. Yet her clogs headed over the gravel to another door, and it wasn’t until bells rang out as she pushed on it that she noticed the sign arched over the top: MALIBU & EWE.

  Which rang another bell, this one in her head.

&nbs
p; Join us each Tuesday for

  Knitters’ Night at Malibu & Ewe!

  Make a Connection!

  Make something beautiful…friends too.

  The business sharing the parking area was the yarn shop that had sent her the eye-catching invitation. And while she didn’t know anything about knitting or even why she’d been targeted for the shop’s advertising, Nikki stepped inside. The first thing to snag her attention was the glass back wall and the wide sliders that opened to a deck overhanging the beach Fern and friends had been heading toward.

  Those back doors were open and she made her way to them, passing built-in bins filled with yarns as colorful as the produce aisle at her favorite market. In the middle of the store was that seating area of sand-colored, softly upholstered furniture draped with textured throws in the colors of the ocean: blue, gray, aqua, green. Nikki skirted the furniture on her way to the deck, only half-registering a few browsers. Knitted pieces displayed high on the walls were less easy to ignore. A silky shawl, a woman’s teddy crafted so delicately that it must be spider-designed, child-sized striped socks, a bra and panties knit from…red shoelace licorice?

  These last garments warranted further inspection, but she didn’t halt her forward motion until she noticed a couple standing on the wooden deck. The man was bent low, inspecting a white-painted railing while the woman leaned near him, holding back a long fall of rippling brown hair in a fist. “It wobbles,” she said. “I’m certain it wobbled yesterday during my How to Knit a Wild Bikini class.”

  Nikki blinked. How to knit a wild bikini?

  The muscles in the man’s forearm flexed as he tried to make the wooden structure move. “It seems fine now.” He straightened, then crossed his arms over his chest and frowned down at the woman who looked to be around Nikki’s age.

  She lifted her slender hands. “Really?” Her big blue eyes lent her an innocent air as her lashes fluttered. “I’m just sure there was something wrong.”

  His scowl was distinctly unfriendly. “Like you were just sure there was something wrong with your porch light? I checked that this morning on my way into town and it seems to be working fine too, Cassandra.”

  “Oh. Well.” Cassandra didn’t appear the least repentant. “Thanks, anyway.”

  “For nothing. You got me to your house and then over here for nothing.”

  Cassandra stuffed her hands in the back pockets of her faded, low-rise jeans. She was wearing a knitted tank top and the movement thrust her chest forward a little. The man’s eyes didn’t drift from Cassandra’s face, Nikki noticed, and she got the idea that his imperviousness to the spectacular chest on display—and she figured as a pretend lesbian she had the right to judge—annoyed the other woman.

  “You don’t have to sound so crabby,” she said.

  “About that, too…I saw what happened to my parking sign. Would you happen to know how that sticker got there?”

  So this was Gabe Kincaid. And though Nikki wanted to get out on that deck and get a gander at those teenagers, it didn’t seem like the time to interrupt. So she leaned against the doorjamb, bemused by the little show.

  Cassandra had the innocent look down pat. “How what got where?”

  “The stupid sea creature currently slapped over the line on my sign that specifies the two-hundred-dollar fine for violations.”

  “I’ve always thought that two hundred dollars is a bit excessive, haven’t you?”

  He wasn’t taking the bait. “The sticker, Cassandra. What’s up with that crustacean cartoon sticker?”

  His growling tone didn’t deter her from offering a teasing smile and a quick poke to his hard belly. “That’s no ordinary animated character, but none other than Mr. Krabs, proprietor of The Krusty Krab. Don’t you know anything?”

  “I’m quite familiar with SpongeBob SquarePants, Cassandra.” Pain flashed across his austere, yet handsome face, then was gone. “So what’s this all about? Why the sticker, why the calls? Why are you provoking me?”

  Her expression had sobered with his mention of the cartoon show. She shoved her river of hair behind her shoulders and tucked her hands under the opposite arms as if she didn’t know what to do with them. The teasing light was gone from her eyes. “Gabe, no one had seen you around in a while and…”

  His mouth tightened. “I’m not one of your wild cats, Cassandra, the ones that you go against our rental agreement to feed. I don’t want or need to be lured into your little circle of caring, okay?”

  “Speaking of feeding, how about an organic bran muffin? I picked up a couple at the bakery before work.”

  Gabe shook his head. “I should have known. This is about my breakfast choices.”

  “Okay, I’ll admit it. Peanut brittle before noon offends me.”

  “That was once. One time.”

  Cassandra rocked back on her heels. “Twice that I caught you. So then when you disappeared into your bat cave for several days, I felt it was my compassionate duty to make sure you weren’t lying on your back somewhere in a sugar-induced stupor.”

  He ran a hand through his short dark hair. “Did it occur to you I might be lying on my back somewhere perfectly content not to be disturbed by you?”

  “I hope you’re not trying to suggest you were with a woman.”

  His half-step back was hasty. “I wasn’t with a woman.”

  “Well, that’s good news,” Cassandra replied, her tone smug. “Because if you’d said ‘yes,’ I’d be forced to call Dr. Hastings and have you put away for delusions. There’s not a female in town who’d have you. Out of town for that matter, either.”

  Since Gabe Kincaid was good-looking in a lean, angry sort of way, Nikki couldn’t quite believe this was true. She wasn’t sure what Gabe believed, but he stepped up, going toe-to-toe with the woman. He took a fistful of her rippling hair and yanked, forcing up her chin so she had to meet his eyes. “Is that so?”

  She didn’t flinch. “That’s so.”

  “Next time I want an opinion on my sexual prospects with a celibate, meddling Froot Loop, I’ll give you a call. And maybe you’ll do me a favor and hold your breath until that happens.” He let go and turned away.

  “You don’t think I’m going to let you have the last word, do you?”

  He paused, his back to her. “I don’t suppose I do.”

  “The celibate, meddling Froot Loop’s bathroom shower is dripping. My house, seven o’clock. I’ll have a nutritious, organic meal waiting. You bring the beer.”

  The man didn’t bother answering, probably because he was too smart to invite Cassandra’s next last word. Without a glance back, he passed Nikki and strode out of the shop. The bells on the door rattled like a bad mood as he shut it behind him.

  With the show over, Nikki remembered she needed to check on Fern so that she could get back to her regularly scheduled—and non-nosy—life.

  She stepped onto the deck.

  Cassandra started, then recovered and pasted on a gracious smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” Her eyes cut to the front door and then back to Nikki’s face, and her smile turned apologetic. “Please excuse our little drama. We’ve been playing it out a couple of times a month since Gabe bought both the building that houses my business as well as the home that I rent.”

  “Ah.” Nikki nodded, struck by a sudden feeling that she knew her. But as familiar as Cassandra seemed, Nikki had never met anyone with such beautiful waves of long brown hair that nearly reached her waist. “If you ask me, I think ‘meddling Froot Loop’ is pretty harsh.” She wasn’t touching “celibate” with a ten-foot pole.

  Cassandra grinned. “And doesn’t it just prove he’s nutritionally challenged? I haven’t tasted a Froot Loop in my entire life. Meddling granola girl would make more sense.”

  “Raw food rah-rah.”

  “Fresh food foodie.”

  They smiled at each other and Nikki was struck once again by that odd sense of familiarity. Which didn’t make any kind of sense at all.


  Cassandra tucked her hair behind her ears. “So, can I help you with something?”

  Nikki remembered why she’d entered the place. “I’m, uh, just curious, I guess.” Though she couldn’t exactly admit she was curious about her employer’s teenage cousin. Edging toward the railing, she glanced down, looking for Fern on the beach below. Though she still wore her sunglasses, she had to squint a little against the glare of the sun on the ocean. In moments, she spotted the girl sitting on the sand, the boy’s head in her lap. “I’ve never knitted anything.”

  “It’s probably a lot like cooking,” Cassandra said. “You take ingredients—like yarn—and use them to create something beautiful and useful. When I make a sweater or a purse or a scarf I’ll bet it’s the same kind of process you use to create a meal.”

  Nikki glanced at Cassandra, surprised. “You know I’m a chef?”

  “My Froot Loop ESP is working well today.” Then she laughed. “What you’re wearing gave you away.”

  “Oh. Duh me,” Nikki responded, glancing down at her pants and tunic. She returned her gaze to the beach. The kids were horsing around, laughing as one of the boys bounced a volleyball off his friend’s head over and over. Fern wasn’t smiling, though, and Nikki’s stomach gave a queasy roll as that plastic bottle was passed to her once again.

  “Would you like to give it a go?”

  Nikki looked over at the other woman. “What?”

  “I have some needles with stitches casted on, ready for a quick lesson. You could sit out here,” she motioned to the line of deck chairs on the right, “and see if knitting interests you.”

  As far as Nikki knew, knitting didn’t interest her. But neither did getting involved in other people’s lives, including becoming a man’s lesbian girlfriend or the reluctant watchdog of his young cousin. “Sure,” she said. At the very least she’d have a good cover if Fern looked up and caught her spying.