Dan All Over Again: Dan All Over Again / The Mountie Steals A Wife. Barbara Dunlop
extra…?” His laugh sounded strangled. “My hair’s too short.”
His hair was still thick, no longer than the base of his neck, and was now rakishly ruffled by the wind. He turned Bob Marley and the Wailers up a little louder. He always did like that tropical music, and she always thought of Dan when she heard it.
She grinned. “Maybe I wasn’t talking about your hair.”
He made a choking sound, but quickly regrouped. “I can arrange that.”
“I challenge you to take that first step in exploring your feminine side by yourself.”
He stared at her, slapped his forehead, and returned to his driving. She was making him crazy. And for one crazy moment, she wanted to be that impulsive woman she’d been with him. She tamped down the pitty-pat of her heart. Bad idea! Very bad idea!
A boat named The Bimini Twist whizzed past, sending a cacophony of catcalls with Dan’s name attached and something about a fishing goddess. He veered off to the right, taking Gordon Pass out to the Gulf. With a flush, she realized those men thought she was Dan’s bow ornament.
“What was that about a fishing goddess?” she asked.
The huge mansions of Port Royal slid by them on the right, and the lush mangroves filled the left with their green. White egrets prowled among the branches that grew all spindly just over the water’s surface, reminding her of her legs.
“I guess they figure since I’m the fishing god, you must be my fishing goddess.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah, I meant to ask you about that fishing god stuff.”
He lifted a shoulder. “What can I say? They recognize greatness.”
“The fish, you mean?”
That boyish laugh sounded again. “You could say that. I’ve won this tournament for the last four years. I have an innate sense about where the fish are. And you know what your role is as my goddess, don’t you?”
“To filet that fishy ego of yours.” After he laughed, she said, “But doesn’t being a fishing god give you an unfair advantage?”
“That’s why I’m not officially participating this year. I’m just here for the thrill of the hunt, the excitement of the battle and the victory of the catch.”
“Oh, brother. Am I even worthy of standing in the glow of your greatness?” She remembered a line from Wayne’s World and started mock bowing with her arms outstretched. “We’re not worthy, we’re not worthy.”
He gave her a little hand wave, and used the mangled French accent and lines from their favorite Monty Python movie, The Holy Grail. “I fart in your general direction!”
She covered her mouth, but couldn’t keep back the snort of laughter. “Did we really sit up all night and have Monty Python film festivals? Or was that some warped dream?”
He grinned. “It’s true, I’m afraid. Then again, we were a bit warped, weren’t we?”
“A bit? How many times did we watch the dead parrot routine?”
“And still roll on the floor laughing?”
Their eyes met over their laughter, and she remembered how they cuddled up in front of the television all night watching Monty Python tapes…among other activities. Her laugh slowly came to a stop, her smile faded. So did his. Good times.
She touched her notepad. “Well, those crazy days are behind me now.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Is not.”
He put on his sunglasses and concentrated on the water ahead. Her heart went pitty-pat again. Not a good sign. She felt an odd swell of pride as she studied him, captain of his boat, straight shoulders and lifted chin. Singing the words to “No Woman No Cry” with his slightly off-key voice.
She picked up the tape case to distract herself. “No wonder they laughed me out of that karaoke bar years ago. I thought this song was ‘Nose runnin’, nose wipe.’”
He laughed. “Is that what you were singing?”
“Well, could I help it if the darned screen wasn’t working right?”
“Well, you did trip and spill your margarita on the machine.”
“Only after you pinched my butt as I walked up there.”
He grinned, and then reached out toward her derriere. “I couldn’t resist.”
She held Sammy between them like a hairy shield. “Resist now, buddy!”
It didn’t have the desired effect. Dan laughed again. “Cassie, you really haven’t changed much.”
“I have, too!” She juggled Sammy and opened her notepad. “See! Look at all the items I’ve marked off my lists. I am an organized, sensible woman!”
He moved closer, making her feel not the least bit sensible. “And I’ll bet by the time you get off this boat, you’ll be crazy about me all over again.”
Lordy, she’d just gotten on the boat and she was already feeling kind of crazy. Not that she’d act on it. No way, uh-uh. She fumbled with her notepad. “See, there’s nothing about being crazy about you in here.” She moved her finger over Pick up doggie biscuits and Buy new pooper-scooper.
“I think I’m honored.” He scanned the list. “You don’t do anything that’s not on your lists, then?”
“Other than, you know, the basic daily stuff, no, not a thing, I live and die by these lists, these lists are what make me a responsible adult who doesn’t do impulsive things that could cause trouble for herself and others, and who doesn’t—I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” She backed away from him, took a breath and turned to her bad habits page. Beneath Cluttered desk, she wrote, Skimble scamble—again. She wanted to write Heart going pitty-pat over Dan—again but she held back, since he was watching.
He was assessing her with those hazel eyes of his. Then he took the pen and turned to a new page. He wrote Dan’s List and beneath that, Find out how much of the old Cass is buried beneath these silly lists.
She tugged the notepad back and wrote None!
4
DAN AND CASSIE FOLLOWED the shoreline of Keewaydin Island, a thin strip of land separating the inland waterway from the Gulf. Vacation cabins were sprinkled among the tall Australian pines, high up on stilts to prevent flooding during storms. She remembered where the land narrowed, the private little place known as Fantasy Island among the boating crowd. She and Dan couldn’t afford a honeymoon trip, so they’d camped out there over the weekend. Boy, had he made a fantasy or two come true.
She shook her head. Enough of those thoughts!
“Mosquitoes?” he asked, peering at her over the rim of his sunglasses.
“Yes, nasty little creatures.” She made a show of slapping her neck and then him for causing her errant thoughts.
“Geez, that one must have been the size of Sammy,” he said when she smacked a good one on his shoulder.
Sammy barked in agreement.
“It was,” she said with a solemn nod. “And there’s another one right there…” She started moving forward, but he grabbed her hand and linked their fingers.
“I’ll take my chances with the mosquito, thank you.”
“Fine. Let it suck all your blood out. I can use you as a flag to signal for help.”
He stared at her. “How can you talk like that and keep a straight face?”
She gave him an innocent look. She was