"What?"
"Burgers. As in lunch, with some salty fries and a couple of apple pies. I assume you haven't eaten yet."
"No. But—"
"We'll get them to go."
"And where are we going with these burgers?"
He smiled. "Trust me." God help her, she did.
Chapter 7
Trust was a tricky thing. Much easier to live up to than to give.
Carson parked his truck in the marina lot, more than a little humbled by how easily Nikki had gone along with his mystery plan. Although given the wariness creeping into her clear gray eyes as she looked across the line of bobbing boats down to Beachcombers Bar and Grill, she seemed ready to revoke her easy compliance.
"My sailboat's docked here now that I invested in something larger," he explained.
"Oh. Right. I thought for a minute you planned to wrangle some memories out of me and honestly, I've found that forcing it doesn't work." She sagged against the seat, staring out toward the bar with a melancholy weariness staining her eyes. "They always sneak up on me best when I'm not expecting anything."
"You're starting to remember what happened with Owens?"
She turned her head on the seat toward him. "Almost right away actually, I've gotten these smattering bits and pieces that may or may not be helpful. I shared everything with Agent Reis, for what it's worth. I even let Mom contact a hypnotist colleague from work, but I never could get past thinking what an ugly watch he was using for a focus point."
"Resistant?"
"Scared to death."
"Thank you for trusting me today." He wanted to say more, but knew better than to let things get any deeper and thereby ruin the afternoon. "Come on. I don't have lazy days much anymore and I intend to enjoy the hell out of this one."
Reaching into the back, he grabbed an extra windbreaker and tossed it to Nikki before snatching up their fast-food bags. Seemed she needed this day out on the water even more than he did. He couldn't help but think how in the past he would have offered a woman a more romantic meal such as croissants, fruit—mimosas.
Except he'd left behind his days of setting his mustache on fire with a flaming bar drink. His call sign 'Scorch' may have stuck, but his party ways were long gone. He just hoped the burgers and sodas he had to offer now would be enough.
Even on the chilly winter day, the marina hummed with activity. No one swam in the frigid waters, but plenty perched on boat decks and along the docks wearing downy wind-breakers and cinched hoods, fishing off the pier or lounging on a bow. Carson searched the faces, wondering how many of them may have been at Beachcombers that night. Damn it, why couldn't he remember who he'd seen on his way to pick up his barbecue wings?
He'd been so hell-bent on getting out of there, the scent of whiskey and rum taking him to dangerous mental places. Then once he'd seen Nikki, he hadn't been looking at anyone else. He'd been tempted to hang out and talk to her as he'd done too often in the past. Since he'd been so tempted, he'd hauled ass away as fast as possible.
Guilt hammered him like the rogue swing of a boat boom. If he'd stayed around, maybe he could have prevented what happened. Owens would be alive. Nikki's life would be normal—and he would still be dodging her.
Wouldn't he? His fist tightened around the sack of burgers, which made him think of those brown-sugar-rich wings and that night all over again, not to mention another time he'd tasted hints of the sugary sauce while kissing Nikki after their friends' wedding.
Jesus, he really was in a crapload of trouble if he could remember who catered a wedding seven months ago. His feet thudded down the planked dock, past everything from a tiny Hobie catamaran manned by two teens in wet suits to a Beneteau yacht with jeweled partiers, toward his thirty-one-foot Catalina, a bargain bought used. Good thing boats didn't age like cars.
Without stopping, which would invite conversation and gossip, he waved at the crowded deck on the Dakota-Rat, a sailboat owned by Vic Jansen, the brother-in-law of fellow crew member Bo Rokowsky. The Rokowsky family outing resembled nothing from Carson's past but exactly the sort he'd wanted right down to the little blond kid with pigtails and a wife.
Except there was an empty space in the family since Bo was deployed.
Nikki shouted a greeting out over the water which would no doubt start the rumor mill churning at the squadron. He should have thought about that.
Maybe other people would have stepped in to help her if he hadn't preempted everyone else. Was he keeping her from something better on a personal level, too? She should have a houseful of children. She was a helluva teacher. He'd bet she would be an amazing mother, much like her own.
And she would. With some lucky bastard he didn't want to think about. Someday. Later. After he got her through this nightmarish time in her life safely.
"I brought you here to relax, but I didn't think about Beachcombers being so close. If it's a problem we can leave."
He stopped beside his boat slip, considering something else he could do to fill the day, kicking himself for assuming she would enjoy sailing as much as he did.