Confessions of a Reformed Tom Cat Read online

  Al glowered at me.

  “Oh, no. I know her. She’s friends with my kid sister,” I explained, lamely. “Since when do you weld?”

  “Hailey comes to us as a project manager. Lots of welding experience, but not on boats.” Al continued talking, but I was too busy staring at Idaho. She wore a baseball cap like two of the other guys and given her height and long legs, she blended in with the rest of them in her canvas jacket, jeans, and boots. No sign of any lace. Pity.

  She smiled at me, and my focus moved to her full lips. Definitely not a guy.

  “Well, shit. You’re full of surprises these days.”

  “Yeah, Lori told me you were still working here. I guess I should’ve mentioned it last week.”

  “Guess so.” I shrugged. “No big deal. Not to me anyway. You’re not the first woman to work here.”

  “And she won’t be the last.” The discomfort in Al’s voice revealed the reality that most women who had worked here didn’t stick around. Working in a shipyard was tough work, inside the office or out. Not to mention the majority of the guys around here were sexist pigs. Too many cocks turned any place into a locker room.

  “Right. Welcome.” I gave them all a wave and headed inside for lunch.

  Most of the chairs were already filled by dirty welders who had soot stains on their sleeves and packed lunches in front of them. I located my bag in the fridge and sat with the usual crowd.

  “You couldn’t see her tits at all. Maybe she doesn’t even have them.”

  “Yeah, but that mouth could make up for the lack of boobs. I can think of a few things I’d have her mouth do.”

  “Fuck the mouth,” pausing for laughter, the speaker continued, “I’d like to see what those legs look like around me.”

  Typical assholes. A hen in with a group of roosters meant a lot of feathers got fluffed up. Most of it was just talk, but some of these guys had lower morals than I did. Married? Didn’t matter, they still stared and talked like they stood a chance.

  Took me a few minutes to realize they were talking about Idaho. I cleared my throat to get their attention. “Not to spoil the fun, but I’ve known King most of my life. She’s one of my kid sister’s best friends growing up. Can we lay off the talk about her?”

  Four faces stared at me in stunned disbelief. I didn’t engaged in that kind of talk on a daily basis, so I didn’t understand what was so shocking. The women in my family both set the bar for respect and instilled fear in me, so unless a woman did something to make me lose it, I respected women in general.

  “You pulling the off limits card on King?” Stu, a real old timer, who didn’t like women except in his bed or kitchen, asked.

  I thought about it for a minute. “Yeah, I guess I am. Sorry to be a drag, but it’s weird hearing that shit about her.”

  “Donnely, your balls shrinking into a vag?” Jay joked.

  “No, they’re doing just fine. Your sister couldn’t keep her hands off of them all weekend.”

  For the record, Ashley wasn’t related to Jay, and Jay only had brothers.

  The table broke up in laughter that only followed men being inappropriate. Issue over. Talk moved on to a new waitress at the Chinese restaurant in Freeland and whether or not she wore underwear. Three votes to one she didn’t.

  Break over, back to work.

  Repeated five days a week.

  Idaho being here could make things a little more interesting. Curious to what she was doing working here, I’d have to figure out a way to get more information about her from Lori. Wait, I didn’t research women. I didn’t care about their story when I knew there wouldn’t be more than one chapter. No, Idaho wouldn’t have her own chapter. I didn’t sleep with other guys’ women. Not intentionally at least. Once I saw a ring, I bailed. Plenty of single girls out there looking for fun.

  Speaking of, I texted Ashley.

  *Thanks for this weekend.*

  I always remembered my manners. Please and thank you went a long way.

  At the end of the day I stood next to my bike in the parking lot. Movement down the row of cars caught my eye. Idaho was walking with Daryl from my crew. From the looks of things, he didn’t know his boundaries. Or didn’t care. I paused with my helmet in my hands.

  “Hey, Ida—Hailey,” I shouted.

  They both stopped and stared at me.

  “Hey, Daryl. Mind if I steal Ms. King for a minute?”

  Daryl frowned. He probably thought I was ruining his shot. His problem was he didn’t have a shot to be ruined.

  “Ms. King?” she asked, leaning against a truck next to my bike.

  “You like that?” I grinned at her. Daryl still stood near the bumper of a silver SUV I assumed to be hers at the far end of the row. I nodded in his direction. “He giving you a problem?”

  “Daryl?” She laughed and the sound of it made me smile. “What is he? Eighteen? Twenty? He’s harmless.”

  “Having been an eighteen-year-old guy, I can assure you he isn’t harmless. Or innocent. You’ve got to watch yourself around here. Be too nice and he’ll follow you home. Be too mean and he’ll hide in the bushes outside your window.”

  “What’s with the protective bullshit?” She curled her hands around her biceps.

  I pouted my lips. “You’re Lori’s friend, so that puts you under the sister umbrella. I don’t put up with morons disrespecting my sisters, and the same applies to you since you work here.”

  “Great,” she mumbled.

  “You don’t sound too thankful.” Her sarcasm confused me.

  She plastered on a smile. “No, by all means. Thanks for the warning.”

  “You’re new. It’s the least I can do.” I furrowed my brow at her weird smile and the disappointment in her voice. “Let me know if any of the guys get out of hand and I’ll take care of it.”

  “I can hold my own, Donnely. All grown up now.”

  I fought the urge to scan down her body, and lost. Damn work clothes and this angle meant I saw nothing of interest. When I met her eyes, she raised an eyebrow, and I gave her a lopsided smile.

  “Right. We’re done here?” she asked.

  I glanced over her shoulder at Daryl kicking rocks with his boots. “Sure.”

  “Have a great weekend.”

  Of course I tried checking out her ass as she walked away. She glanced over her shoulder, and I smiled to myself. Her stupid jacket blocked my view. I strapped on my helmet and started the bike. I rocked it off its kickstand and let the engine rumble, stalling for a minute to make sure Daryl walked away. Idaho shot me a dirty look and waved with her middle finger.

  Nice. Still one of the guys.

  I revved the engine and let the gravel fly behind me as I pulled out of the lot, accelerating when I hit the smooth pavement. Instead of turning south on 525 toward home, I made a right and headed up island. I leaned into the curve, letting the wind coil its cold fingers around my neck.

  SAWDUST CIRCLED IN the air as my chainsaw cut through the soft pine log, bouncing off the plastic of my face guard and covering my jacket and jeans in a fine layer. Earmuffs muted the screeching of the saw to some degree, but it was still loud. Loud enough I didn’t know John had showed up until he crossed my line of sight.

  I quieted the saw, but left it running. It purred like a cat while I pulled the hard hat and protective gear from my face. After killing the motor, I set it down on a nearby stump.

  “Nice eagle.”

  In front of me stood a six-foot eagle I’d been carving for a client. Its wings spanned almost seven feet from tip to tip. A classic Donnely spread eagle—my signature piece.

  “Thanks. I need to add more to the feathers and details on the face, but I’m pretty proud of this one.”

  “Who’s it for?”

  “A couple building a place up in Greenbank. High bluff. Nice property.”

  He nodded in appreciation and walked around the sculpture.

  “Want to grab a beer?” I gestured past the wood shop to the hou
se. The constant mist had stopped long enough this morning to get some carving done outside. My shop opened on two sides and had a large overhang where I could carve in the rain, but I preferred to be outside. Stumps of various sizes and woods sat stacked under the wide eave along with half-started projects of typical island designs: salmon, bears, and of course, eagles. I’d carve anything for the right amount of money. I’d even done a mermaid for a house near the ferry on Columbia Beach. Her tits were glorious.

  We sat on the porch of my house in a pair of custom Adirondack chairs I built last summer. I sipped my beer and waited for John to talk. I didn’t need the conversation. He was the one who stopped by.

  “You have plans tonight?” he asked after we were about half done with our beers.

  “You have something in mind?”

  He scratched his neck and smoothed down his beard on either side of his mouth. “Yeah. Not really. Diane was thinking about going to the Dog House to play pool tonight.”

  “Sounds like a fun night. What’s that got to do with me? It’s not Thursday.” Our standing pool night had been Thursday for years.

  “Well . . .”

  “No.”

  “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

  “Does it involve a set-up?”

  “Not a set-up per se. More like she’s tired of always hanging out with the guys.”

  “So let her go shopping or drink martinis at Primo with the girls.”

  “She does all those things. It’s just, she has this friend . . .” He cringed.

  “Is she hot?”

  “Not really your type. At all. But she’s nice. And can play a decent game of pool.”

  “You didn’t answer if she was hot.”

  “Yeah, I guess so?” It sounded like a question. “She’s blonde. Talks a lot.”

  “How much is a lot?”

  “You wouldn’t have to talk all evening if you didn’t forcibly interject.”

  “Nice tits?”

  “I honestly haven’t noticed. The talking overwhelms everything else.”

  “Man, you’re whipped.”

  “Not going to deny it.” He drained his bottle and set it on the stump next to his chair that served as a table. “So you’ll meet us there?”

  I thought about it for a minute. I didn’t have any better offers in the works. Other than probably calling Ashley later. I saw her last weekend. Two weekends in a row would be weird for us. Too regular. Regularity led to a slippery slope of dating.

  “Yeah. I’ll show up.”

  Blonde. Check.

  Nice boobs. Check check.

  Talker. Check.

  John had been right. Diane’s friend talked a lot. Like non-stop chatterbox.

  I learned she had a dog named Sprinkles and a cat named Precious.

  In the first five minutes.

  Mostly I nodded and tried to get a glimpse down her shirt. Diane kept giving me an apologetic look, but she didn’t need to feel bad. I’d probably still sleep with her friend.

  Confession time: It takes a lot for me not to want to sleep with a woman.

  Size didn’t matter if she had confidence.

  Age didn’t matter if she didn’t act old.

  Language barriers? Not a problem and sometimes a bonus.

  As long as there was chemistry, I could make it work.

  The only real deal breakers for me were married and lack of self-respect. I had learned early and painfully not to fuck another man’s woman. Split lip and a few cracked ribs proved the point.

  And self-respect?

  I didn’t do desperate, needy, addicted, or tragic.

  Sex was sex. Purely physical. A clear understanding between adults meant mutual pleasure. If we could have a conversation, laugh together, and enjoy each other’s company when our mouths weren’t occupied, even better.

  Sub-category under self-respect: hygiene.

  A trim, some attention to the important areas went a long way.

  Where was I? Right.

  Diane’s friend.

  The talker.

  I knew a way to get her to shut up.

  “Hey, babe, it’s your shot.” I leaned closer and put my hand on her shoulder.

  She turned and gave me a small smile. “I’m not sure which ball to go for. Can you help me?”

  Four solids sat on the table, one lined up perfectly with a side pocket. I raised an eyebrow at her and she shrugged.

  “Side pocket from across the table. You’ve got this,” I whispered close to her head. She shivered and chirped like a little bird. I think it was her laughter.

  Her body language told me I had her if I wanted.

  She made the shot easily and bounced over to hug me, pressing her curves into my side.

  Easy as giving catnip to a kitten.

  To prove my point, she rubbed her chest across my bicep and purred. “You’re my good luck charm.”

  I slung an arm around her. “Nah, you did fine on your own.”

  Her lips rose in a smile and I was pretty sure she batted her lashes at me.

  “You have another shot, you know.”

  She scratched, and we lost the game when Diane cleared the table on her turn. The woman was a pool shark.

  “Sorry to kick your asses.” Diane high-fived John, who picked her up and kissed her. Show off.

  “I’ll buy the next round of drinks,” I offered.

  Diane followed me. “So do you like Jessica?”

  I glanced over my shoulder and took in Jessica’s ass in her tight jeans. “Yeah, sure.”

  “That didn’t sound all that convincing.”

  “What’s her deal?” Normally I didn’t care, but Jessica lived on the island, and nothing was smaller than this island in the winter months. The last thing I needed was a level ten clinger.

  “She’s cool. Moved here to teach at the middle school. Originally from Minnesota.”

  “Let me guess? She teaches English?”

  “No, social studies and world history. Or something like that.”

  In my experience, teachers were the marrying kind. But they could also be freaks in bed.

  “Divorced?” Divorced would be better. More freaky and less likely to be looking for a long term relationship.

  “How’d you guess?”

  “The talking and the touching.”

  “You really are something.”

  I cocked my head, waiting for her to continue.

  “This wasn’t a set-up, but I figured some flirting from you would be better than binge watching another season of some random TV show. The island isn’t exactly bursting with eligible bachelors.”

  “You sure she only has the one cat?”

  “Positive.” She patted my arm. “Tom?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If you do sleep with her, be nice, and don’t lead her on.”

  “I never do. Scout’s honor.”

  “Were you ever a Scout?”

  “Eagle Scout.” I gave her the salute. “I’ve taken a vow to help others and be trustworthy.”

  “What about loyal?”

  “Only to a select few.” I winked.

  She studied me with her warm brown eyes. John lucked out with this one. “Okay. But you mess with her head, I’ll ask John to punch you someplace it’ll hurt.”

  I rubbed my side in memory of the one and only physical fight we’d had years ago. John had tackled me in school and shoved me into a locker. We’d both weighed less than a hundred pounds soaking wet. I couldn’t remember what the fight was about. I’d always been a lover and not a fighter. Basically, I was a fast runner as a kid and good at deflecting the trouble my mouth got me into even back then.

  “John’s lucky he met you first. You’re the real deal.”

  She gazed over her shoulder at the man she clearly loved. “Maybe things would have turned out differently if you’d used a different line.”

  I couldn’t stop my laugh. “The line works more than you’d believe!”

&
nbsp; “It never works,” Olaf, the bartender, commented. “You want to close up your tab or keep it open?”

  Olaf had seen and heard more than he should have over the years tending bar here. The tavern was over a hundred years old, and Olaf had been here for at least a third of that time, if not more. If anyone ever needed to blackmail someone, they should head directly to Olaf for dirt. He’d caught me having sex in the women’s room and under the stairs, and once under the deck on the beach below. He’d seen my naked ass more than any other man I knew about.

  “We’ll keep it open.” Facing Jessica, I said to Diane, “Watch in wonder.”

  “Oh no, what are you doing?”

  I returned to the stools near the pool table, carrying our drinks.

  “Babe, I know you’re new to the island and all, but have you ever been geoduck hunting?”

  John muffled a snort and Diane groaned, but Jessica ignored them. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. What is it?”

  I pulled out the dimples. “Well, it’s really something which needs to be experienced more than explained. And it’s best done at night.”

  “Sounds interesting. I’m up for anything,” she replied, playing with her hair.

  “Young lady,” Olaf called from his position at the bar, “Tom Donnely is making an illicit offer to you. Don’t you fall for his nonsense. No one in their right mind would go digging for clams at night.”

  Both John and Diane cracked up, but Jessica continued to stare and slowly blink at me. Geoduck hunting or not, she said she was up for anything and I intended to find out what exactly she meant.

  Ignoring Olaf, I said, “Well, in that case, what are you doing now?”

  “Let me get my purse.”

  I smirked at Diane on our way out the door. She gave me the two finger eye to eye gesture. I waved at her.

  And that was how I picked up women with the geoduck line.

  HALLOWEEN MEANT A visit to the farmhouse to see all of the kids’ costumes, say hi to Pops, steal some candy, and get a few gold stars in the family column.

  It also meant lots of sexy costumes at the Rod & Gun Club party, and later at the Dog House tavern in Langley. Something about the holiday turned women into minxes. Guys had it easy. A scary mask and maybe some fake blood, and we were good to go. The R&G party had been a tradition since my parents dated, probably even my grandparents. Every year spiderwebs transformed the clubhouse and they played the same soundtrack of monster songs since the seventies.