Ready to Fall by Daisy Prescott Page A

temperatures, giving us an early taste of spring. The sun shone for the first time in a week, brightening not only the sky but everyone’s mood. The crossing lasted longer than the trip to Mukilteo, but what awaited on the other side was less of a culture shock.
    I had left my truck parked along the road near the ferry. We’d be exploring town on foot, so the good weather was a relief.
    Sipping my black coffee, I stared out at the water, absorbed in my own thoughts.
    “It’s a gorgeous view,” Diane said, gesturing at the far coast. From this vantage point the mountains loomed to the southwest. Their sharp peaks whitened with winter snow above deep evergreen forests.
    “That it is. If you look back, you can see the Admiralty Lighthouse.” I turned her shoulders to face Whidbey and Ebey’s Landing.
    “What are all those buildings and bunker things?”
    “Fort Casey. Those bunker things are gun batteries.”
    “Gun batteries?”
    “First line of defense against a sea attack.”
    She squinted at the retreating shore, trying to make out the details. “It all looks so Officer and a Gentleman .”
    I had to laugh. “You have a thing for young Richard Gere?”
    “Who doesn’t? Bad boy turned good guy with a heart of gold. Plus, the buzzed haircut and uniform? It’s one of my mom’s favorite movies. I grew up loving him.” Her sigh and swoon let me know she was serious.
    “Girls and their bad boys.”
    “You’re kind of a bad boy, so don’t knock it.”
    “You think? How many bad boys take pity on their lonely neighbors and offer to show them the local sites?”
    “Hmmm.” She scrunched up her face. “This’s true, but you’re still trouble.”
    “If you say so.” I tugged the ball on the top of her hat. “ Officer and a Gentleman was filmed around here. We could do a tour if you want.”
    “Can we recreate the wet pushups scene?”
    I searched my brain for what she was talking about.
    “You know. Richard Gere in a wet T-shirt doing pushups. All kinds of hot.”
    “You’re weird.”
    “That isn’t a no.” She winked. “We can wait for warmer weather so you don’t catch cold.”
    “Thanks. Ogling your friend should be an amendment to the pact.”
    “Unspoken rule, my friend.”
    “Then it goes both ways, friend.” I let my eyes wander down her body, unfortunately hidden by her coat.
    “Nothing to ogle here,” she said, patting her puffy covered torso.
    “Spring will come soon enough.” I gave her my sexy grin.
    “Thank goodness. I don’t think my feet have been warm since I got here.”
    “Welcome to the Pacific Northwest.”
    “No kidding. Tell me more about today’s adventure.”
    While the ferry made its way across the water, I told her about the town and nearby fort which mirrored Fort Casey.
    Wandering around the streets lined with Victorian era storefronts was more amusing than I imagined. My ulterior motive for going to Port Townsend was pizza, but Diane’s delight over the used bookstore trumped even that. She dragged me through the musty stacks despite my protests I didn’t read. Ignoring my grumbling, she bought me a vintage copy of The Story of Paul Bunyan . Something told me it was to get me back for all my teasing, but she insisted it was an act of kindness.
    “You, the beard, the axe, the dog named Babe. Come on, it all fits!”
    “Babe is a dog,” I grumbled. “Not a blue ox.”
    “Okay, besides that detail. You work in timber. You’re tall. How tall are you anyway?” She stood on her tiptoes and reached up to touch the top of my beanie covered head.
    “Six-four,” I said, straightening up to my full height.
    “That’s tall.” She continued with her inventory and comparisons. “You have broad shoulders, wear plaid and boots all the time. And you smell of wet pine and something earthy.”
    “Are you saying I smell like a tree?” I cocked my head and stared down at her.
    Again she stood up on her toes and leaned closer, but this time she sniffed my