Terri Osburn - Up to the Challenge

Sid reached out to grab a handful of hair, but Lucas caught her wrist before contact. “I stopped taking payment for dates after the prom,” he said, sounding more put out than Sid expected. And what did that last crack mean? Had someone paid him to take Crystal to the prom?

This night was looking up.

Crystal leapt to her feet. “I see you’re still the pompous ass you always were. Thinking you’re better than the rest of us.”

“And you’re still as hateful and self-centered as I remember. Now if you could honor Sid’s more than polite request and return your …” He looked to Sid. “How did you put it?”

“Skinny ass,” she said, smiling as the warm spot in her chest spread to her knees.

“Right.” Back to Crystal he said, “Your skinny ass back to your own couch.”

By this point he’d gone from holding Sid’s wrist in midair to holding her hand on the couch between them. Sid felt like giggling. Something she never, ever did.

Crystal huffed. Stomped. Squealed. And finally returned to her couch. The minions were whispering reassurances, but Sid couldn’t have cared less. She looked over to find Lucas smiling at her, still holding her hand, slumped down in the overstuffed red leather sofa.

Best. Date. Ever.

Lucas knew he should feel bad, but Crystal Casternack had made his life miserable in high school, stalking him in the halls, telling everyone they were getting married and she’d be the pampered wife of a powerful lawyer. They’d never even gone out on a date. He’d only taken her to prom because Crystal’s mom kept calling his mom about it. Desperate to end the torture, Tom gave him a hundred bucks to bite the bullet and take one for the team, as he’d put it.

As a result, Lucas’s prom had sucked. Not that guys cared much about that stuff, and with only four girls total in his graduating class, there wasn’t a large number of other dates to choose from. All the others were spoken for by the time he asked Crystal.

But none of that was cause for him to be so rude to her all these years later. The way she’d talked about Sid was what sent him over the edge. As if any man would have to be paid to go out with Sid Navarro. Grant it, she could be brash at times. Okay, all the time. But she had her moments. Like when she smiled the way she had after he sent Crystal stomping back to her friends.

She’d looked happy, surprised, and grateful with that one adoring look. The adoring part made him nervous. The way she’d sprinkled the sex comments into their dinner conversation, he’d begun to believe maybe a casual fling could work. Then he saw that look. But she hadn’t clung to him through the movie. Didn’t protest when he let her hand go to open his drink, then didn’t take it back again.

No pressure. No sign she was going all gooey on him. Then again, Sid was likely incapable of going gooey over anything. Maybe he’d just imagined the look.

They’d enjoyed the movie in silence, then waited until Crystal and her friends had gone before moving toward the exit. Other than telling Artie good night, neither had spoken since before the movie started.

“Thank you,” Sid said, staring out the passenger window into the falling rain, her expression unreadable.

“You’re welcome,” he said, out of reflex. After a moment of silence he asked, “For what?”

Sid turned his way, brown eyes serious. “You didn’t tell Casterhack in there that this isn’t a real date.”

Lucas shrugged one shoulder. “We went to dinner and a movie, right?”

“Yeah. But not because you wanted to go.”

“Says who?”

“Said you.” She went back to staring out the window. This was a side of Sid he wasn’t sure how to handle.

“This may not have been my idea, but I had fun. Great food. The most comfortable theater seat I’ve ever experienced.” He elbowed her softly. “And the company wasn’t bad either. I mean, you have your moments.”

Like this one. The spitting, cursing, challenging Sid he knew what to do with. Softer Sid was an enigma wrapped in a centerfold threatening his peace of mind.

“Careful, you might woo me with your romantic words.” She grinned his way, the vulnerable look gone. “Did someone really pay you to take her to the prom?”

He cringed. “You caught that, huh?”

“I’m quick like that.”

Crystal had suffered enough for one night. “Let’s hold that story for another day.”

“Fine. Keep your secrets.” Sid grew quiet again, which made Lucas nervous.

Quiet meant she could be plotting something diabolical. “You okay over there?”

“Just thinking.” Before he could toss off a witty retort to that she said, “No cracks, preppy. I was thinking since you were a good sport tonight, I should cut you a break and not bother you anymore.”

Not what he expected. And surprisingly not what he wanted. “So you’re forfeiting the challenge?”

She turned to face him while leaning back against the door. “What challenge? We didn’t make a bet tonight.”

“Yes, we did. You said you could show me a good time on this island.” He might live to regret his next statement, but in spite of his better judgment, Lucas wanted to spend more time with her. “You’ve got five weeks to do it.”

Narrowed eyes pinned him in place. He said the one thing he knew would push her to agree. “Unless you want to give up now. I wouldn’t blame you.”

“You’re going down, Dempsey. I hope you’re up to the challenge.”

Such a predictable woman. “Bring it on, Navarro. Bring. It. On.”

Still floating on the high of her date, Sid took a full minute to wake up enough the next morning to register the deluge of water pounding against her cottage. A brush of heavy rain from a far-off-the-coast hurricane was typical for Anchor, but the amount of standing water in her backyard was not. Maybe Ingrid was getting closer than they’d expected.

Sid switched on the radio in her bathroom, which was always tuned to WANK radio, the voice of Anchor Island. The call letters were unfortunate, but fitting.

“It’s not looking good, folks. All tourists should leave the island today. Ingrid is expected to be a cat two when she slides by less than seventy-five miles off shore.” Hermie Dash, an Anchor native and avid storm watcher, sounded almost gleeful as he reported the update. “The brunt should be here around three a.m. tomorrow morning if she holds the current course.”

“Hundred mile per hour winds,” she said aloud. “Shit.”

Sid checked the landline and got a dial tone. At least they hadn’t lost service yet. A quick punch of two buttons and the tone turned to a ring.

“Did you hear?” Beth asked, forgoing the typical greeting.

“Just now. Is Joe getting the boat up?”

“Left fifteen minutes ago. I’m lining up help to board up the art store, and the volunteer fire squad should be working on Tom and Patty’s house before noon. They’ll need a hand up at the restaurant.”

The last thing Tom needed on his second day home was a damn hurricane. He needed no stress, not a bitch of a storm threatening his home and business. “Mr. D’s not going, is he?”

“He’s trying, but Patty will duct tape him to the floor before she’ll let that happen.”

“I’ll help her,” Sid said. “Lucas headed in then?”

“I think so.” The line went quiet and Sid feared Beth knew about her non-date turned pseudo-date with Lucas. “Sid, I’m scared. I’ve never been through a hurricane before.”

Remembering her first experience the year after moving to the island, Sid understood Beth’s fear. But she’d dealt with Mother Nature often enough since then to know they were in no severe danger from a category two storm.

“No worries, Curly. These things are a nonevent around here.” Not exactly true, but Beth didn’t need the truth in that moment. “I’ll pack up my tools and be at the restaurant in thirty minutes.”

“But what about your place? You’re right on the water. Won’t that be worse?”

Her pier faced more danger than her house, but Sid knew how to prepare. “We’ve got more than twelve hours. Plenty of time to board up the place once Dempsey’s is secure.”

Forty minutes later, Sid pulled up before the restaurant and hauled her drill and tool belt out with her. The extra ten minutes had been spent debating what to wear so as not to look too butch in front of Lucas. While checking her ass in the mirror, realization dawned. She was not one of those chicks, and to hell if Lucas would turn her into one.

The scene on the porch was chaos. Boards were being brought from the back storage room, but no one seemed to know where to put them. Lucas was nowhere to be found.

“What are you guys doing, trying to recreate some Stooges skit?” Four men froze in place, staring wide eyed in her direction. How the hell men ever managed to rule the world, Sid did not know. “Put the boards down where you are.”

Two large sheets of plywood hit the decking with no hesitation. “Vinnie and Chip,” she barked, “put your board against the railing here.” Sid pointed to her right and the men followed the order. “Now you two,” she said to Mitch and Lot. “Slide yours in place in front of it.”

As soon as the boards were stacked, Lucas came around the corner with his head down and a plastic container in his hands. “I can’t believe these things are still in the same box.” Looking up, he spotted Sid standing on the top step.

Her heart did some crazy flutter thing so she worked harder to school her features.

“What are you doing here?”

“I work here.” If he made a crack about men and tools and women and kitchens, she’d deck him. Date or no date.