Page 57 of Blame it on the Kiss
Instead of going to the mayor’s office, she took off in a different direction. Palm trees shaded most of her walk, but by the time she got to her destination tiny beads of sweat trickled down her sides. She knocked on the door. It swung open. “Hi, Uncle Tuck.”
He took one look at her and opened his arms. She stayed in the cocoon of his embrace for a good long while before they moved outside to the deck.
Still they didn’t talk, just sat in companionable silence and watched the waves roll onto shore in the distance. Like her, Uncle Tuck didn’t always need words to fill the space.
“I got a fish.”
“Gold?”
“Puffer.”
“Even better.”
“His name is Jaws.”
“No better name than that.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s worked his way into my heart.”
Uncle Tuck turned away from the sea and looked at her. She kept her attention straight ahead so all he saw was her profile. That would be enough for him to figure out she wasn’t only talking about a fish.
Her uncle heard things too. He was fooling around with Mrs. L., after all, and that right there meant a front row seat to everything going on in the cove. Honor hadn’t been hiding her relationship with Bryce. But they wouldn’t be seen together again and how did she explain that? Would people look at her with pity and assume she’d screwed up again?
“Did I ever tell you the story about how I met Veronica?” he said.
“No.”
He settled back into his Adirondack chair. “I’d just finished surfing. It was late in the day and most of the other guys had left. I’d parked my car in the bike lane and was changing out of my wetsuit. I had a towel around my waist and nothing else when I closed the driver’s side door and my towel got stuck.”
Honor twisted to face her uncle and brought her knees up to her chest. She fought a smile.
“When I tried to open the door, it was locked. I looked through the window and my keys were right there on the front seat. I’d locked my goddamn keys in the car and was stuck with nothin’ but a towel on.”
A little giggle escaped through her pressed lips.
One corner of Tuck’s mouth lifted into an impish grin. He never took himself too seriously.
“So a car pulls in behind mine and parks. This knockout gets out. Long legs, great rack, blond hair. She goes around to her trunk and starts pulling out camera equipment. A tripod, big black canvas case. Then her head peeks around the corner of the car and her eyes lock on mine. ‘Need some help?’ she says. ‘You offering?’ I ask back.
“She picks up her stuff and strides over to me, her eyes never leaving mine. They’re green and bright and they’re laughing. She’s laughing at me and right there I knew I was gonna ask this woman to marry me. She tells me she’s a photographer. I tell her I’m a surfer. ‘Got anything on under there?’ she says. ‘Nope,’ I say. She sizes me up then, says, ‘Tell you what, I’ve got a box full of swimwear in my backseat for shoots. I’ll get you a pair of trunks if you model for me with your surfboard.’ ‘Deal,’ I tell her. She smiles and walks around to the passenger side of her car. I follow her.”
“Tuck!”
He grinned. “She didn’t even flinch. Checked out my junk and told me this was gonna be the start to a beautiful relationship. It was.”
Honor cast soft eyes on her great uncle. The man could make her laugh and sigh at the same time. “Do you ever regret walking away?”
“Ah, the “R” word.” He ran a hand along his tanned, clean-shaven jaw, his skin creased from all his days spent in the surf and sun, but still handsome as ever. “That word comes back like a pesky fly that won’t go away.”
“Or like a scent that clings to you no matter how many times you wash your hands.” She could still sometimes smell Lance’s bodywash and she hated that.
Tuck gave her arm a quick squeeze. “Here’s the thing. Walking with our heads down trying to pull the weight of our mistakes doesn’t make them go away. Choice is the only thing that conquers regret. Choosing to learn from our past and waking up with hope on the pillowcase beside us rather than remorse.”
“I wish there was a magic pill.”
“There is. It’s called Vi—”
“Stop!” She sent him her sternest, most forbidding glare. He was almost as bad as the Street Team.
