Up to the Challenge

into the kitchen before he could think of a good comeback, though truth be told, he had that one coming.

Seeing Lucas red-faced and uncomfortable was adequate retribution for him questioning Sid’s language during the ride over. He hadn’t really judged her on it. Hadn’t called her a name or talked down to her. His question sounded more like curiosity than condemnation.

Beth, who liked to call herself Sid’s fairy godmother, had been trying to clean up her language almost since they’d met. Curly, as Sid preferred to call her, gave orders like be nice and smile more and keep the cursing to a minimum.

Sid ignored all orders, though she’d been trying the be nice stuff on Old Man Fisher with little success. That man needed an enema and a happy pill before he’d soften up. She’d even smiled at him once, even put her heart in it. But still. Nothing.

So what if she cursed like the proverbial sailor? For as much time as she spent on the water, she might as well be one. None of the guys at the dock seemed to mind. Randy made her keep it down at the gym, but only so she wouldn’t offend the skinny female tourists as they fast-walked the treadmills. Heaven forbid they overindulge on vacation and go home three pounds heavier.

One might say the thought was hypocritical since Sid ran every morning and lifted weights several times a week. But she ran because she enjoyed it, and lifting engines required muscle. Muscle required weights.

Carrying the Key lime pie Opal had sent out for Lucas felt like lifting weights. He’d never be able to eat the entire piece.

“About time you came back,” Lucas said. “I was three seconds away from ripping into the sugar packets.”

“Opal couldn’t decide how big a piece to cut. As you can see, she went with one as big as the damn ferry.”

Lucas’s eyes widened as she set the plate on the table. “Is that a piece or half a pie?”

Sid set her own cupcake down and took a seat. “Opal’s pie pans could double as hubcaps for my truck. That’s a piece.”

Still eyeing the Key lime, Lucas lifted a fork, looking unsure how to proceed. With anything Opal made, the best plan was to go in close to the point. Even then, the height of the creation made getting the bite in cleanly damn near impossible.

He moved the fork to one side, changed his mind, and switched to the other side.

“Just stick the fork in it, Dempsey. It’s not going to fight back.”

“You’re right.” His fork sliced through the meringue, pierced the Key lime, and scooped up a chunk of crust. “Here we go.” Somehow he managed to get the entire bite in his mouth on the first try, though a hint of meringue lingered on his upper lip.

Without thinking, Sid reached out and wiped it off with the tip of her finger. Lucas caught her wrist, sending heat sizzling along her skin, and stared with one brow raised.

“That’s my meringue.”

Sid stuttered. “I was … It was … You had …” She might have regrouped and finished a sentence but his next move struck her mute.

Lucas licked her finger clean, holding it in his mouth longer than necessary for such a small amount of cream. Sid’s brain shut down while the rest of her came alive. Her skin tightened. Her legs loosened. Her toes curled.

With a satisfied smack of his lips, Lucas relinquished her finger, but continued to hold her wrist. His eyes met hers and the usual light hazel shade turned to liquid green. Like damp moss in the sunlight.

“Mmmmmm,” he said, “so good.”

Sid jerked her hand away and slipped it under the table. Her body’s reaction to his seemingly innocent flirtation would prove much more difficult to hide. Looking down, she noticed her nipples showing through her T- shirt. With a quick tug she undid the knot holding it tight in the back, loosening the material enough to fall away from her body.

Thankfully, Lucas was too busy staring at his pie to notice.

They ate their desserts in silence from that point on, Lucas’s attention centered on his plate. Who’d have thought a woman could feel jealous of a slice of pie? If Lucas ever reacted to her the way he was drooling over Opal’s Killer Key Lime, Sid would die a happy woman.

Such a stupid thought. Lucas would never drool over, melt for, nor lust over her. He’d nearly sucked all her brain cells out the tip of her finger, then returned to his food as if they’d been discussing the weather. All the more reason to keep her hopeless fantasies to herself.

Lucas had to keep his head down the rest of their meal so Sid wouldn’t see how much he wanted her. The taste of her on his tongue had been better than the Key lime pie, and that pie might have been the best thing he’d ever tasted in his life. When she dropped him off at his parents’ house, there’d been no offer of a ride for the following morning. Maybe he’d freaked her out. Or grossed her out.

If a brush of the neck made her bristle, sucking on her finger definitely crossed a line. But she hadn’t pulled away, and the heat he felt beneath his hand on her wrist wasn’t from tension.

At least not the unwelcome kind.

Not working together for two days helped create plenty of distance. Joe’s charters had canceled for Sunday and Monday, so they’d switched things up. Joe ran the bar with Sid during the day, and Lucas covered nights with Beth, which went smoother than expected. The awkwardness was starting to fade, and he knew they’d be friends eventually. Beth was a difficult person not to like.

He’d been surprised to see her working the floor as if she’d been waiting tables her whole life. Beth reminded him she’d worked her way through law school as a waitress. Something she claimed she’d told him while they were dating. He had no memory of the conversation, and since he doubted Beth would lie, the truth of his own douchery felt like one more smack in the face.

When had he become such a self-centered jerk?

He and Sid were back together on Tuesday, but something had definitely changed.

“Rum and Coke, two diets, and a sweet tea.” Sid barked off the order the same way she’d done every order of the day. Eyes down and back straight. Then she returned to the floor with the appetizers he’d placed on a new tray for her.

They couldn’t spend the next five weeks like this. He couldn’t anyway. In some masochistic way, Lucas enjoyed Sid’s jabs and steady flow of imaginative yet insulting names for him. And he had to give her credit. In front of customers, she kept the profanity to a minimum.

Lucas filled the drink order and considered how to approach Sid for a peace treaty. They needed to find some level ground where they could work together without all this tension. Maybe even be friends. Though he’d never had a female friend who could likely hold her own in a bar fight and still look sexy while throwing a punch.

“Table nine is getting rowdy,” Sid said, slapping her empty tray on the bar. “Make sure there’s a fresh pot of coffee brewing.”

He nodded toward the back corner. “Frat boys giving you trouble?”

“Nah. Red hatters.”

“Red what?”

“Red hatters, “Sid said again, shooting him that “duh” look of hers. “Little old ladies who wear red hats and purple clothes everywhere they go.”

Lucas covered the snort with a cough. “Are you telling me you can’t handle a bunch of old ladies?”

Sid swiped the now drink-covered tray and balanced it on her shoulder. “You know all those rum and Cokes and whiskey sours you’ve been making?”

No way. “The hatter ladies?”

“Yep. Have that pot of coffee ready when I come back.”

Surely they could handle a few old women who couldn’t hold their liquor. Lucas stepped through the kitchen door, tossed the cold coffee, and put a new pot on to brew. Then he returned to the bar and surveyed the room.

Weekdays weren’t as busy as weekends. Most seats at the bar were empty, as was the majority of Daisy’s