Page 13 of Shelter for Martina

With a couple of clicks of his mouse, Bud opened the database and typed in Adams’ information. There were several cars registered to him, but no four-wheeler. Not surprising. Most of the cars hadn’t been re-registered when their registrations expired—also not surprising. Seemed he owned a boat too, but god only knew where that thing might be.

Then he checked criminal records. Adams had several charges against him in the past, but he’d never served any jail time. They were mostly small things, a DUI, a pot possession of an amount deemed personal use, and one theft charge. Reading the charges, it appeared he’d bought gas at a gas pump and claimed he forgot to pay. The owner of the store dropped the charges. Most likely someone Adams knew, Bud assumed. He also had a couple of domestic violence charges, but they were dropped as well. Looked like the guy led a charmed life legally, or he was good at threats and intimidation. That was always a possibility.

He spent the rest of the afternoon poking around on the computer, but he found nothing of much use. By four, he’d grown tired of the search and decided to call it a day. It only took him a few minutes to change once he got home, and he went through the mail and fed the three little miniature horses, Prissy, Sissy, and Pete, before he left to pick up Martina. Becky had loved the little beasts, and he still fussed over them. She’d be pleased to know he still loved them and took care of them just as she had.

He pulled up in Martina’s driveway at twenty minutes past five and sat there for a few seconds. Being nervous wasn’t something he’d anticipated, and yet he was. A date. He hadn’t been on a date since he and Becky were kids. What did people do on dates in the present day? There were so many more options than there had been when they were growing up. He and Becky had spent a lot of time in the back seat of his dad’s old Oldsmobile, and he was pretty sure his evening wasn’t going to end up like that. Gathering up every shred of courage he could muster, he pulled himself from his GMC pickup and headed to her door.

It opened before he could even reach it and there she stood. Unlike the first day, all disheveled and crazy, or earlier in the week, pulled back in a ponytail, her hair was styled and neat, framing her face and resting lightly on her shoulders. It glittered in the light behind her that shone through the doorway. She was wearing little flat shoes, which made her look even smaller than usual, and a simple short-sleeved dress over a pair of capri-length leggings. She just smiled and said, “Hi!” It struck him instantly—she was nervous too.

“Hey, don’t you look cute? You about ready to go?”

“Uh, yeah, let me grab my bag and lock up.” She disappeared into the house as he stood there, one foot on the lower step, until she reappeared and pulled the door closed behind her. “There we go. Okay. All set.”

He walked a couple of paces behind her to the truck, then opened the door and helped her in before taking himself back to the driver’s side. They made small talk as he drove, chatting about their day, the packages that had been leaking shampoo in the terminal, the coffee carafe at the post getting knocked off onto the floor accidentally and what a mess it was. There was a break in the conversation and he said, “You haven’t asked me where we’re going.”

She shrugged. “I guess I figured if you’re taking me, it’s got to be okay.”

“I thought we’d go to the new steakhouse out by the mall.”

“Oooo! I’ve been wanting to try it, but I haven’t had a chance! That sounds great. I hear they have this awesome creamed spinach.”

“Yuck!”

She laughed at him. “Creamed spinach is good! And it’s good for you too.”

“I’ll take green beans and a baked potato.”

“Typical man,” she play-groused before she started to laugh again.

They were laughing and talking when he wheeled into the steakhouse’s parking lot. There was only a five-minute wait, and they were seated in a booth.

Bud was shocked. He liked everything about her. She was kind, considerate, and easy to talk to. She was friendly to the wait staff and went out of her way to compliment them. She asked him questions and then listened raptly as he answered them. And when he asked her something, she answered thoughtfully, not rambling, just making good conversation. Everything about her saidclass. It occurred to him that this date had been an attempt by his subconscious to find something wrong with her, a reason to dislike her, and he couldn’t. Even her table manners were impeccable. He couldn’t find a single thing he disliked about her.

Dinner was over and she asked if they could go over to the mall so she could pick up some socks she needed. They walked through the mall together, and halfway down the concourse, he absentmindedly reached for her hand. As soon as his fingers threaded through hers, she tightened her grip, and something fluttered in Bud’s chest. Turning to look down at her, he found her looking up at him, a huge smile on her face. Something in his brain whispered,God, she’s beautiful. And something below his belt stirred.

That was unexpected, but Bud couldn’t say it was unwelcome. His heart wanted Becky, but his body wanted something real, something her ghost couldn’t give it. An inexplicable urge to touch Martina took over, and he wanted desperately to sweep that strand of hair off her face and behind her left ear, to stroke her cheek with his thumb, and to press his lips to hers. So many thoughts coursed through his mind that they were jumbled and confused, but one kept surfacing:I want her. And he did, with his whole being.

“Bud? Bud, you okay?” she said, and he realized she’d stopped and pulled him to a halt too in the middle of the mall.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. What were you saying?”

“I was saying that… You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure what she meant until she said, “Albert. I meant to call you Albert.”

That was it. He couldn’t stand it anymore. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “I have an overwhelming urge to kiss you right now.”Jesus, Griffin, what the hell is wrong with you?his brain shrieked.

But she smiled sweetly up at him and said, “I have an overwhelming urge to let you.”

“Let’s get out of here. Come on.” Gripping her hand tighter, he led her toward the entrance to the mall, but when he walked past the candy shop, he steered her in. “What do you like?”

“Um, peach and buttered popcorn jellybeans.”

“Okay, let’s get a half pound of each and a pound of chocolate-covered peanuts. How does that sound?”

“Sounds great!” They both grabbed the little bags, filled them with their choices, and Bud paid for them at the register. Taking the purchase in his other hand, he grasped her hand again and strolled right on out of the mall.

---