Her lips parted and she bit into the salty treat, her mouth closing over the tang of melted cheese.
Find the town bad boy and have a flaming affair.
She lifted her wine glass to her mouth. Of course she wasn't tempted, but... a flaming affair.
Kevin, her only lover, had been tame, certainly not dangerous. But Blake... He'd taken on the magnitude of an archetype in her teenage world. The tempting boy who would never want her because she didn't belong to the world of groping in back seats and shadowy corners. She'd been a serious student, a good girl.
"Will you think about Jake, Claire?"
She took a long, cool sip of the wine when what she really needed was a heavy dose of fresh air … andcourage for the words.
"Can we go for a walk?" she asked.
Chapter Three
He drove half a mile and parked at the foot of Benedict Street. She climbed out of the truck just as the last light left the sky. The government floats displayed a maze of sailboats and powerboats to her left. Shadowy shipyards loomed behind a takeout coffee bar to her right.
"Where's your shipyard?"
"A couple of blocks from here. I'll show you tomorrow, if you want."
"Perhaps." She wondered if Jake would be there, and what she could say to a delinquent boy... if she agreed to say anything.
"Tide's out," he said, taking her arm as they stepped onto the ramp down to the floats. "The ramp's steep for those shoes."
Her shoes were low-heeled pumps, not treacherous at all, but she let herself enjoy the sensation of walking with his arm looped through hers.
"Tell me about Jake."
"He's fourteen. Not your regular tough punk. I might know how to get to him if he were. His mother died two years ago. Breast cancer. Single mom, no other family. He got slotted into foster care. He's a quiet kid, so no one noticed when he started going off the rails. Then he got picked up for joy riding and the foster parents bailed."
"Bailed?"
"They dumped him." She felt his shrug. "Placing fourteen-year-old kids is hard enough without a court date coming up. He ended up in a group home. Not a good fit. Couple of months ago he ended up in the hospital after a drug overdose."
"How did you get involved?"
"Don dropped by one day."
"Don?"
"Don Henley. He was in our class."
"I don't remember."
Under the overhead lights, his face looked even harsher. "He sat behind you in chemistry all year. "
"I didn't talk to the other kids much."
"Yeah, but... Anyway, Don's the probation officer. He asked me if I'd take Jake on. It's been tough."
Blake stopped in front of a tall sailing ship and she stared at its towering masts.
"Did you build this one?"
"Fortunately not."
"Fortunately?"
"She's got toredo worms. The next one's one of mine." He drew her further along the float.
She stared at the sleek, varnished rails above a glistening white hull. Even in shadows, she could see the beauty of the carved woodwork.
"Where do you start? Say someone walks in tomorrow morning and asks you to build a boat. What's your first step?"
"With a plan." He drew her toward the boat's bow. "The plan has to suit the owner. This fellow has a wife and two young children. They wanted the boat for vacations, but he also had a hankering to race her. So you need comfortable berths, a shower, a galley, speed." He shrugged the details away. "It's always a compromise, with a boat."
"And you have to keep the water out, or it'll sink."
"That, too," he agreed with a laugh. "That's the basis of the plan."
"What about working with a teenager? Do you start with a plan there, too?"
" Kids need a more creative approach." He urged her along the float. " You can't push it with a kid, or he'll rebel. You can never tell, at first, how it'll go. If you can get him building something, that works for some. Others respond to the water—a wild sail might bring one kid around to the place where he sees sense, another might cave in when you give him a piece of sandpaper and set him to work. If one thing
Find the town bad boy and have a flaming affair.
She lifted her wine glass to her mouth. Of course she wasn't tempted, but... a flaming affair.
Kevin, her only lover, had been tame, certainly not dangerous. But Blake... He'd taken on the magnitude of an archetype in her teenage world. The tempting boy who would never want her because she didn't belong to the world of groping in back seats and shadowy corners. She'd been a serious student, a good girl.
"Will you think about Jake, Claire?"
She took a long, cool sip of the wine when what she really needed was a heavy dose of fresh air … andcourage for the words.
"Can we go for a walk?" she asked.
Chapter Three
He drove half a mile and parked at the foot of Benedict Street. She climbed out of the truck just as the last light left the sky. The government floats displayed a maze of sailboats and powerboats to her left. Shadowy shipyards loomed behind a takeout coffee bar to her right.
"Where's your shipyard?"
"A couple of blocks from here. I'll show you tomorrow, if you want."
"Perhaps." She wondered if Jake would be there, and what she could say to a delinquent boy... if she agreed to say anything.
"Tide's out," he said, taking her arm as they stepped onto the ramp down to the floats. "The ramp's steep for those shoes."
Her shoes were low-heeled pumps, not treacherous at all, but she let herself enjoy the sensation of walking with his arm looped through hers.
"Tell me about Jake."
"He's fourteen. Not your regular tough punk. I might know how to get to him if he were. His mother died two years ago. Breast cancer. Single mom, no other family. He got slotted into foster care. He's a quiet kid, so no one noticed when he started going off the rails. Then he got picked up for joy riding and the foster parents bailed."
"Bailed?"
"They dumped him." She felt his shrug. "Placing fourteen-year-old kids is hard enough without a court date coming up. He ended up in a group home. Not a good fit. Couple of months ago he ended up in the hospital after a drug overdose."
"How did you get involved?"
"Don dropped by one day."
"Don?"
"Don Henley. He was in our class."
"I don't remember."
Under the overhead lights, his face looked even harsher. "He sat behind you in chemistry all year. "
"I didn't talk to the other kids much."
"Yeah, but... Anyway, Don's the probation officer. He asked me if I'd take Jake on. It's been tough."
Blake stopped in front of a tall sailing ship and she stared at its towering masts.
"Did you build this one?"
"Fortunately not."
"Fortunately?"
"She's got toredo worms. The next one's one of mine." He drew her further along the float.
She stared at the sleek, varnished rails above a glistening white hull. Even in shadows, she could see the beauty of the carved woodwork.
"Where do you start? Say someone walks in tomorrow morning and asks you to build a boat. What's your first step?"
"With a plan." He drew her toward the boat's bow. "The plan has to suit the owner. This fellow has a wife and two young children. They wanted the boat for vacations, but he also had a hankering to race her. So you need comfortable berths, a shower, a galley, speed." He shrugged the details away. "It's always a compromise, with a boat."
"And you have to keep the water out, or it'll sink."
"That, too," he agreed with a laugh. "That's the basis of the plan."
"What about working with a teenager? Do you start with a plan there, too?"
" Kids need a more creative approach." He urged her along the float. " You can't push it with a kid, or he'll rebel. You can never tell, at first, how it'll go. If you can get him building something, that works for some. Others respond to the water—a wild sail might bring one kid around to the place where he sees sense, another might cave in when you give him a piece of sandpaper and set him to work. If one thing
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