Nicole Young - Kiss Me If You Dare

I shot a glance at the guy I had pegged an introvert, then looked at the row of homes. One had a dislocated front porch. Another had a roof caving in. Down the way, a foundation crumbled.

I put a hand on my hip and mumbled under my breath. “I’m holding out for a miracle.”

Celia led the way down the sidewalk to the first house. Portia and I team-lifted her in the wheelchair up a step onto the sagging porch.

Celia drove toward the threshold and stopped. “Great. I wondered about this.” The width of the wheelchair exceeded the measurement of the doorway by a couple inches. “I’ll just wait out here.” Her voice sounded glum. “Not a chance,” Portia said. “Koby, collapse that chair and push it through while I pick up Celia.”

I rushed to intervene. “Here, I better do it.” I grabbed at the back handles the same time Koby did. Portia hefted the tiny Celia into her arms and walked through the door.

“I’ve got it,” Koby said, reaching in to take over my hold.

“I’ll get it. You could fall.” I nudged him with my hip to back him off.

“Somebody get that chair in here,” Portia ordered. “I’m not made of muscles, you know.”

Koby practically body-slammed me out of his way. “And I’m not made of glass.” He pushed the chair over the threshold and opened it on the other side.

Portia lowered Celia into her seat.

Koby threw me a look of triumph as I rubbed at my hip.

“Truce.” I put my arms up in surrender.

He nodded. “Just don’t do it again.”

With our first disagreement behind us, the hodgepodge members of Team B surveyed the project ahead, giving each house a once-over. Celia kept a list of major issues and ideas as we brainstormed a plan of attack.

The last home was in the best condition. Nineteen thirties or forties with an updated feel. Ahead of me, my teammates moved with determination, performing their routine to get Celia in the door. I hung back, wondering if I’d be up for the work ahead. From the looks of my ragtag team, I’d have to bear the brunt of it. And my motivation seemed to be missing. Financial strain had always been enough to hustle me from the end of one project to the start of the next. But here in Del Gloria, thousands of miles from everything that mattered, my heart felt like a lump of coal pressed against my lungs, robbing me of breath, stifling my inspiration.

Inside came Portia’s voice, followed by laughter from Celia and Koby.

“Face it, Tish. You’ve landed in Oz,” I whispered to myself. But like Dorothy, it was only temporary. Soon I’d get the phone call that would whisk me back home. And all would be well.

I gave a sigh and followed the group into the dim interior. Nodding in robotic agreement to all of Portia’s suggestions, I kept a mental log of all the ones I’d have to do right when the rookies weren’t looking.

The lunch hour had come and gone as we wrapped up our tour. Our gang had just stepped off the porch when a voice called to us from across the street.

“Hey, you guys.” The brunette from Team A waved to us from the coarse lawn of a cockeyed bungalow. Behind her, Gangster Guy and the rest of the crew exited the building.

“Hey! You finally getting to work over there?” Portia’s toxic tongue went to work.

The girl on the lawn crossed her arms.

Gangster Guy stepped to the curb. “Yo. Eat our dust.” Portia inhaled a deep breath, ready to fire back a response. I grabbed her arm. “Why do you provoke them? Can’t you just be nice?”

She shook off my grip. “Back off, Miss Priss. Maybe you’ve got Uncle Denton to take care of you. But me,” she thumped her chest with a fist, “I’m on my own. I’m getting a piece of that Covenant Award. Whatever it takes.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m the team leader. And I’m telling you we’re not going to harass our competition.” I hoped I came off as having more gumption than I actually felt. Portia snickered. “Leader? Yeah, whatever.” She started walking back toward the bus station. “Come on, team. Follow me.”

I brought up the rear, hoping Brad would hurry up with his plan to save me.

The bus pulled away, leaving me alone on the driveway. I’d ridden home in silence, putting an impermeable wall between me and my teammates. Celia had made an attempt at conversation, but gave up when all I offered was a cold shoulder. I hated to push her away, but the day’s overwhelming events had caught up to me.

Across the road, the Pacific glared white in the sunshine. Gulls circled a rocky promontory down the way, beckoning for company. Cars zipped past on the twolane in front of me. I waited for a break in traffic, then crossed over, climbing the metal guardrail onto a flat shelf of rock.

I eased close to the edge for a peek at the drop-off. A narrow trail, hewn over time, clung to the face of the cliff. Should I or shouldn’t I?

Why not? There was no schedule to keep.

I dropped my tote behind a clump of brush, then stepped down onto the narrow outcropping, slippery with pebbles. I picked my way along the zigzagging route to the patch of sand at its base. Sunrays beamed hot onto my newfound hideaway. I slid off my tennies and scraped my feet through the burning earth as I made my way toward the water’s edge. The sand buzzed with each drag of my foot.

I stopped well back from the surf, watching the shoreline shift beneath the surging and subsiding waves. I’d take the pleasant pull of Lake Michigan over the powerful Pacific any day. I stared out over the endless expanse of water, feeling farther than ever from the places-and people-I loved.

The sand cushioned my head as I lay with eyes closed, trying to imagine what Brad was doing that very moment back home. He’d have rounded up the bad guys by now, with help from the local and state authorities that had already been investigating the case. So today, Brad would be focused on tying up the loose ends, making things safe for my return. I pictured him settling in at the lake house after a good day’s work, hanging out in the living room with Puppa-my pet name for my grandfather- and Great-grandma Olivia, having a good laugh over the whole escapade. My temporary boarder Melissa Belmont and her two kids would be back in their own home, safe from her abusive husband. And Brad’s sister Samantha would soon be heading to her Coney Island diner in downstate Michigan, having outrun the bad choices of her past once and for all. With my last guest gone, the log cabin would be sitting empty, anticipating my return.

I had only to wait for the convictions that meant jail time for Frank Majestic and his cronies. Then I could go back to Michigan. Back to Brad. Back to the time when it was just the two of us and one joyous, long-lasting future ahead.

A swirl of sand choked me. I sat up, eyes watering in the glare. I rubbed at the bandage on my arm, hoping to brush away the feeling that there was no future with

Brad to return to. Sure, this whole safe-house thing had stalled our wedding plans. But it was only temporary. Nothing would change between us. The next time I saw him, I’d run into his arms and we’d kiss, long and tender, just like we had that last morning in the woods.

Still, the feeling persisted that things were different now. Would Brad meet someone new while I twiddled away time in California? Would he decide that Denton was right and I wouldn’t be the best choice of brides? I pitched a shell toward the water. I didn’t care for Denton Braddock. Not one bit. And I couldn’t shake the notion that Denton knew more about what was going on back home than he was willing to tell. The professor must have been in contact with somebody-Brad, the authorities, or whoever-since the day he’d claimed me at the hospital in Minnesota. His vague answers to my status checks had become annoying.