Autumn Leaves Page 5

True to her word, Autumn—he’d decided to call her that since he couldn’t exactly tell her he knew her name was Skye—arrived on his doorstep at exactly seven o’clock with the mysterious cake in her hands.

  Before long they were seated at the little table where a feast of grilled steaks, baked potatoes, and salad crowded into the space between them. He’d opened the windows to the sea breeze, and thanks to the screens, the bees weren’t stinging.

  “Oh, look at that. You can see the Gulf from here.”

  He nodded. “That’s why I rented this place.” When the rent on his previous apartment had gone up, this place had seemed like a hidden blessing.

  It had been a boon that she’d lived next door, too—it was much easier to keep tabs on her with the close proximity. But he didn’t say that, of course.

  “There’s a spot on my porch where, if I lean just right, I can see it.” She sighed. “There’s just something about looking at the water, isn’t there? I love it here.”

  “I’d rather be in it, but yeah, looking at it is the next best thing. So,” he said, “have you always lived in Galveston?”

  “I’ve lived all over, really. Mostly Texas, although I spent time in California.”

  “California’s nice. The surf’s great out there. Nothing like the piddly waves we get here. But hey, if you can surf in Galveston, you can surf anywhere. I spend a lot of my free time down in Port Aransas.”

  He was babbling. Nate Donahue didn’t babble. That went against everything he’d learned, because a babbler was the worst kind of investigator.

  He reached for more salad even though his bowl was still full. This woman intrigued him, and not just because his assignment had him following her but learning very little about her. He’d been given a number to trace and then an address where she lived.

  All he was supposed to do was report back on her comings and goings and then call the job done. It was absurd that somewhere between days four and five, he’d fallen for her. Not in that weird crush-with-a-stranger kind of way, but rather in that I’m-interested-in-you way.

  Because he was. Interested.

  “So, Nate,” she said as she speared a piece of steak. “Are you BOI or did you get here from somewhere else, too?”

  “No, I wasn’t born on the Island,” he said. “Though we came here enough when I was growing up that I felt like this was home more than my actual home. Then my actual home . . .”

  Nate paused. Why was he telling her any of this?

  Because she was easy to talk to.

  “Anyway,” he said. “Enough about me. How’s your bee sting?”

  “Better,” she said. “What about your nose?”

  “Fine, although I think my shirt’s a total loss.”

  “It’s just a little blood,” she said. “Douse it with hydrogen peroxide before you put it in the wash. It’ll be fine.”

  “Impressive. How do you know this?”

  “One of my foster moms was a nurse.” She paused. “Apparently getting blood out of clothing is a hazard of the profession. Since I was in charge of the laundry, that was my job.”

  Foster care. Nurses. Laundry. Nate was trying to somehow form a picture of who this woman was. But though his skills were considerable, Autumn seemed to elude him.

  Tonight wasn’t about investigating her, though. “So,” he said slowly, “tell me about this book you’re reading.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know if you’d be interested. It’s a retelling of Jacob and Esau, but set in Scotland. Kind of a romance, only with battles and actual history.”

  “Sounds fascinating.”

  It actually did, but the deeper truth was when she was talking about something that had nothing to do with her life, it was less likely she would ask about his. Because the last thing he intended to tell her was the truth about who he was and what he’d done.

  Or, for that matter, what he was doing now.

  The topic of books lasted through dinner and then somehow changed to music and then to movies. By the time dinner was finished and they’d taken their plates to the sink, Nate had almost forgotten to be careful what he said around her. Almost, but not quite.

  She glanced over at his surfboard leaning in the corner. “Are you participating in the tournament this weekend?”

  “This is the first year I haven’t,” he said. “But only because I agreed to be one of the organizers. Will I see you there?”

  “Not on a surfboard,” she said with a shake of her head. “But I’ll be handling the gift shop sales for Myrna. She’s my boss.”

  He knew that.

  “So tell me about this cake.” He handed her a knife and then reached for the only two dessert plates in his kitchen that matched.

  “There’s a surprise inside.” She slid the knife into what appeared to be a simple chocolate cake that had been dusted with powdered sugar. She scooped out a slice and placed it on the plate in front of him.

  Indeed there was a surprise. Somehow this woman had managed to stuff an entire pie inside a chocolate cake. Nate poked at the pie with his fork.

  “Is that real? And is it pecan?”

  “It is.” She cut a smaller piece for herself and then picked up the fork. “It’s such a nice night, and all the bees are gone now. Do you mind if we eat outside?”

  Nate nodded toward his balcony and then followed her out. The moon was just shimmering above the Gulf as he settled on the stool where he usually sat to take off his boots, leaving Autumn to sit on the lone lawn chair.

  After four bites of the amazing concoction, he realized he hadn’t said a word. He looked over expecting to find her watching him. Instead, she seemed mesmerized by something off in the distance.

  Rather than distract her, he took another bite of cake, or pie, or whatever it was, and enjoyed his view. Though she was beyond gorgeous in the sunlight, the fading light slid a golden blanket over her features and made her look almost ethereal. Had he not been eating a dessert she made, he might have wondered if she was a figment of his imagination.

  Oh, but she was very real. And she lived next door.

  At least for the next two weeks.

  “So, Autumn,” he said, breaking the spell that held her bound to whatever was out in the darkness. “What do you say to having dinner tomorrow night?” He paused just long enough to give her time to think about it. “Just as friends, of course.”

  She smiled then, and he relaxed. “I’m working the evening shift tomorrow,” she said as she cut another bite of dessert. “But ask me again sometime. Just as friends.”

  “I might,” he said with a wink. “So, what’s the story with that car of yours? I haven’t seen you driving it.” For a moment, panic flared, and he wondered if he should backpedal. He’d just admitted to watching her.

  But she didn’t seem suspicious. “That’s because the Jeep isn’t running right now.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  She shrugged. “It just kind of stopped. I had it towed here, and that was pretty much it.”

  “Maybe I could take a look at it.”

  She shook her head. “I couldn’t ask that of you, Nate. It’s way too much trouble.” She tucked her fork under the remains of her dessert and rose, padding inside barefoot to deposit her dessert plate in the sink.

  “Does your dishwasher work?” she called.

  “Yes.”

  “Lucky,” she said as she opened the dishwasher and began loading it. “Mine doesn’t.”

  Nate joined her in the kitchen and moved between her and the dishwasher then closed the door. “Leave the cleanup to me.”

  “But . . .” She met his gaze and then shrugged. “Okay. Then I ought to go.”

  He noted the time on the oven—just past nine. “It’s still early,” he said. “I was thinking I’d go for a walk on the beach. Care to join me?”

  He figured she’d say no, so her yes came as a nice surprise. Nicer even than the pie inside the chocolate cake.

  With the last of the sun’s r
ays staining the western sky a vivid orange, they walked down the street to the beach and then turned south to follow the seawall. Quite a few people strolled along the seawall, though most of the crowds had gone north to the amusement park at the pier or to the nearby bars.

  “I love this time of night,” Autumn said. “Not night but not really day either.” She tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear as the breeze danced around her ponytail and toyed with the tails of her shirt.

  They walked in companionable silence for awhile, and then Autumn abruptly stopped. “Listen.” He did but heard nothing other than the waves slapping against the shore and the distant sound of a car horn.

  “What is it I’m listening for?”

  “That’s the real question, isn’t it? I guess I don’t know the answer yet.”

  She began walking back in the direction they’d come. Nate fell in step beside her. “If we’re going to be friends, shouldn’t we know more about each other? I mean, I know you like your steaks rare, and I know you have a secret recipe for stuffing a pie into a cake, but what else do I need to know about my friend Autumn?”

  He didn’t figure she’d answer. Though he only knew her phone number and where she lived and worked, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was hiding from someone. And as soon as he filled in his report, he’d have given that someone enough information to find her.

  “Hmmm,” she finally said. “Don’t you think that’s enough to know about me?”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t ask.” He dialed back the harshness of his answer. “By that, I mean I’m always curious how people end up in Galveston.”

  “I could ask you the same thing.” She gave him a sideways look. “Remember you moved into the duplex after me. That means I was here first.”

  “True,” he said, “but I was already living in the city. I just moved to the duplex . . .” To be closer to you.

  “Sorry, I didn’t hear the rest of that.”

  “Oh, I said I moved to the duplex because I liked how close it is to the beach.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I like that, too. I love to listen to the sound of the waves at night. It reminds me of when I lived at the home for . . .” Her voice trailed off as she picked up her pace. “Well, anyway, it reminds me of a place I loved.”

  Nate snagged her wrist to slow her down. “Hey, did I ask a question that made you sad? I’m sorry.”

  She stared out at the Gulf. A moment passed before she spoke again. “Don’t be sorry. Sometimes God allows the sad so we can recognize the good when it happens.”

  She suddenly looked fragile, like she might break into a thousand pieces and disappear. Nate gathered her into his arms and held her while the sea breeze curled around them. Autumn stood very still, her arms at her side and her head fitted against Nate’s chest. Slowly she lifted her arms to circle his waist.

  How long they stood like that, he had no idea. At some point, he realized the dampness on his shirt meant that his friend was crying. Still, he did not move or speak. He just held her.

  Eventually she slid from his grasp and took his hand. Together they walked in silence back to the duplex where Nate paused at the bottom of Autumn’s staircase. “Good night, friend,” he said as he squeezed her hand.

  It was only after he’d returned to his own side of the duplex that he realized she hadn’t responded. Maybe she thought she’d already said too much.

  Skye had said too much. What had gotten into her? She could blame the meal and the twilight walk on the beach, but that wasn’t it. Nor was it the fact that Nate had held her while she’d cried—cried!—and asked no questions after.

  Yes, the real problem was she could use a friend like Nate. If only she hadn’t made a promise to Bonnie Sue. Two weeks wasn’t enough time, but she would make the best of it.

  She snatched up the note he’d left with his phone number and padded into the bedroom as she typed the number into her phone and then set it on the nightstand.

  Skye turned off the light and climbed into bed. Then she lifted the window sash just enough to allow the sea breeze to wash over her. On her first night in the apartment, she had moved her bed so that her pillow rested just beneath the windowsill. Now moonlight flooded the room, dressing up a rather drab space with magical silver light as Skye settled beneath the sheets and closed her eyes.

  Just before the sound of the waves crashing on the beach lulled her into sleep, she reached over to grab her phone and send a message to the handsome surfer next door.

  “Thank you.”

  Chapter Seven

  The eighth annual Galveston Surf Safari got underway at dawn on Saturday morning. This meant Skye spent most of Friday at the gift shop arranging the merchandise, went home to fall into bed exhausted, and then awakened a few hours later to return to the shop. Nate must have been on a similar schedule, because she heard his truck leave just a few minutes before she stepped out into the predawn morning.

  By the time the sun rose over Galveston Island, Skye had put in an hour’s work arranging things and seeing to last minute issues with merchandise. The booth was set up near the gift shop itself, just off the seawall, the better to send customers up to buy more things, as Myrna said. From where she stood, Skye could see all the way down to the Pleasure Pier, where the roller coaster and Ferris wheel were alive with lights even at this early hour.

  An air horn sounded, and the milling crowds stilled. Over by the registration booth, a man stood on an elevated stage surrounded by girls in neon swimsuits. An odd pang of jealousy hit her as Skye realized the man was Nate.

  “Welcome to this year’s Surf Safari,” he said to the cheers of the crowd. He thanked each of the event’s sponsors and then went over the rules. Finally he handed the microphone to one of the girls, who then declared the event had officially begun.

  While the surfers competed, the gift booth did a brisk business selling souvenirs. Skye could hardly keep up with the customers, so when Myrna came down to tell her to take a lunch break, she was too tired to consider eating. Instead, she went up to the gift shop and settled onto the little three-legged stool in the back of the store to read.

  Leaning against the wall, she closed her eyes for just a minute. The next thing she knew, someone was shaking her awake.

  “Hey, sleeping beauty,” Nate said. “Your boss told me I would probably find you here.”

  “Myrna! Oh no.” Skye shook the cobwebs from her sleep-addled brain. “She’s going to be furious with me for not coming back after my lunch hour.”

  He grasped her by the wrist and pulled her back. “She’s fine, actually. Apparently my boss and yours have a lot in common. She’s got him helping with the customers. Sully will never believe this.”

  “Who’s Sully?”

  “He and I work together.”

  “And where is that, exactly?”

  “Stan’s Bail Bonds,” he said. “Stan’s the owner, but Sully and I do all the work. We’re not sure what Stan does.”

  “Bail bonds. Is that like the guy on television who busts in and arrests fugitives?”

  Nate chuckled. “Take what you’ve seen on television and remove about 80 percent of the excitement from it. That’s what I do.”

  “Still, it beats working in a gift shop. That is, if I still work here.”

  Skye went to the window to look down at the booth where she’d spent most of the day. Sure enough, there was Myrna, deep in conversation with a gray-haired man.

  “I hope he knows to speak loudly. Otherwise she can’t hear you, and she gets cranky.” Who was she kidding? Myrna was always cranky.

  Nate laughed. “I promise that won’t be an issue with Stan.”

  Skye turned her back on the window and stifled a yawn. “How long was I asleep?”

  “I saw you leave about two.” He checked his watch. “It’s almost five. So, three hours?”

  “Three hours!” She let out a long breath and leaned against the wall. “Why is it I still feel like I haven’t slept?�
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  “Probably because you slept sitting on that little stool.” He walked over and picked up the stool. “Is this even for adults? I know a four-year-old who has one just like it.”

  His mention of a child Pansie’s same age sent a pang through her.

  “Stop teasing me,” she said. “That stool is perfectly fine for the purpose it serves. Now, I should probably go back out there.”

  “Nope,” Nate said. “According to your boss, you’re officially off duty. She said to tell you she’ll see you on Monday.”

  Skye smiled. “Well, all right. Monday, it is.” She pressed past him to go out the side door. “Thank you for finding me. I didn’t intend to fall asleep.”

  “Myrna said you stayed late yesterday and got here early. How much sleep did you get last night?”

  She walked around to the back of the shop and unlocked her bike. “Enough,” she said when Nate stepped between her and the boardwalk.

  Out in the sunshine, she was able to see the fatigue behind Nate’s eyes. “What about you, friend? How many hours did you sleep?”

  “Enough,” he said.

  He might have slept more than three if Stan hadn’t called to ask him to bring in a bond jumper named Dewayne who’d been seen hanging around a convenience store at Thirty-Fifth and M. The guy ran, of course, and so it had taken Nate much longer than he’d expected to catch and deliver the fool to the prisoner intake door at the jail.

  She shook her head. “Go home and rest, Nate,” Skye said as she raised the kickstand and prepared to ride away.

  “Actually, I’m kind of hungry, and I bet you are, too. What with you sleeping through lunch and all.” She made a face, and he laughed. “Yeah, well, so I know this place that serves the best shrimp nachos.”

  Her eyes widened. “I’m pretty sure I know that place. And I was just there.”

  So was he, although he wouldn’t mention that. “Okay, then what about Rice Wagon? That’s the Asian fusion food truck that travels around the island and announces its next location by Twitter. Have you tried it?”

  “No,” she said with what he hoped was a decent amount of interest. “But I’ve seen it pass through the neighborhood and always wanted to try it.”