Chapter 1 – Everly

“Holy shit!” Terri’s cackle comes through loud and clear on the speaker of my brand-new iPhone, making everyone in the bar turn my way. I can feel the temperature rising on my face. Darn it, I never wanted this stupid thing. I was perfectly happy with the simple flip phone I had before. “Yep, they’re all here, Ev. Socks, panties. Jesus, is that a thong? I always had you pegged as a bit of a nun...”

“Terri, shhhhh—”

“...in a nice neat pile on the bed. You going commando below the waist, then?” She giggles, and I hear the bedsprings squeak in the background as she flops onto my bed. Her voice lowers—not in volume, just in tone. “Any hot guys to take advantage of that fact?”

Dear God, please stop her talking. My fingers are desperately pressing every button on the screen, trying to find a way to shut off the speakerphone. Every five-year-old in the whole darned universe knows how to use these things. How hard can they actually be?

Terri just keeps on talking, because that’s what Terri does. I love her to bits, but right now, I’m just about ready to throw the phone on the floor and crush it beneath my heel to—

Lord in heaven, what in the what-now is that doing here?

All the other sounds—the few people shuffling awkwardly in the hot-as-hell sailor’s bar, the dings and rattles of boats moving in the harbor outside, the sound of Terri’s voice—tune out to a distant hum as all my senses concentrate on a single point of interest.

He is a masterpiece, a sight straight out of a Greek myth. He-llo, sailor. I sweep a sweat-soaked strand of blond hair away from my forehead as I cross my legs and squeeze my upper thighs tight, stemming the tide that’s rising up in my girly parts.

I take a sip of the water at my elbow, just because I need something in my mouth right now, and what I want is too far away.

Now, normally, I’m not really into facial hair. Well, to be honest, I can’t say I’ve had that many options to choose from, but I don’t know...the dark beard, the way it’s kept neat, the way it reaches almost to the base of his neck where I’d like to nibble and nuzzle.

Oh my gospels.

Suddenly I’m spluttering, chest hacking at the water that’s just hit my lungs. I feel like I’m dying, but I still can’t take my eyes off of him. The water finds its way back up my windpipe and I taste it in my mouth, but with no other option, I have to take another sip to wash it down. He turns my way, just a moment of concern on his face before he sees I’m all right. I see a little smile, not so much on his lips but in his eyes, and once again, I feel like I’m about to ruin the only pair of panties I apparently have with me.

He turns back and watches the harbor, like maybe he’s waiting for something, and my senses come back to the present.

“...you’ll be all like, ‘Oh, my, golly-gosh, I appear to have forgotten to wear any underwear. I’m sooooo embarrassed.’ And he’ll just smile and reach forward and put his fingers inside your drenched—”

“Shut up, Terri!”

“Excuse me, sweetie...” A dear old lady, maybe in her eighties, perhaps even older, leans forward to point at my phone screen. She reminds me of my old grandma on my daddy’s side, though she was a battle-ax and this lady seems gentle. “Just tap the button on the right there.” Her crooked finger taps the air in hopeful assistance.

“Here?” I ask, not sure if I should be even more embarrassed by the fact that a woman probably four times my own age knows more about technology than I do.

“No, dear.” She points right, and I look down. “It looks like a speaker with three curved lines in front.”

Finally, I find it and hit it with my fingertip, Terri’s voice immediately silenced to an indistinct rumble. Who in the world designed this thing? How was I supposed to know that was a button?

“Thank you so much.” I look back up, and the old lady smiles thinly at me, probably as relieved as I am that Terri has finally been silenced. The man with her—I assume it’s her husband, but who knows, could be friends-with-benefits given how much more modern she is than me—brings his coffee cup to his lips, stifling a grin. I don’t even dare to look around the rest of the room. Seventy, eighty, ninety. That seems to be the median age for residents of this town. The last thing they need is Terri’s foul mouth.

But he isn’t seventy.

I steal another glance at the rolling mountain of walking man-meat leaning against the bar window. Long-ish hair—longer than I’d usually find attractive, to tell the truth—curls in dark, almost black strands around the backs of his ears. My daddy would tell me he was no good. He’d say I’m better off without men altogether, mind you, and he’d probably be right.

Another sip of water and my voice feels ready to take on the task of a conversation with my best friend. “You are such an embarrassment,” I whisper, holding the phone to my ear.

“Oh, stop being coy.”

“You were on speakerphone!”

“Was I? I wondered why it seemed to echo. Where are you?”

“A charming little bar and diner sort of place.” I choose my words carefully, aware that the other patrons are probably still listening in to the conversation.

“Charming? You mean old-fashioned, then.” I mmm-hmm an affirmation before she goes on. “Well, you wanted out of Texas, honey. Not that I can blame you—what with Cheating-Ass Trevor and your mom’s traditional ideas, something had to give eventually.”

“It’s only for the summer.”

“Initially. That’s what the university said, right?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

The truth is, I wanted out of Texas ever since I was six years old and my mom forced me to play dress-up and weddings with George O’Connor of the world-famous O’Connor family. Don’t get me wrong, George was one of my very best friends. We’re still in touch now, if only by an occasional handwritten letter.

He came out eventually as a gay man, which was no big surprise to anyone who grew up with him, but that didn’t stop his family marrying him off to an unsuspecting cattle ranch heiress from Oklahoma.

But that’s my mom all over. Her daughter was supposed to be an asset, someone who would marry sensibly and bring in new blood from an equally wealthy—or preferably even wealthier—family. Otherwise, with me being an only child, there’s a very real risk of having no male heir to take on the family’s oil empire when my daddy passes away. And that might even mean—dear God in heaven forbid that it should ever come to pass—my daddy’s brother Jacob inheriting the lot.

I like Uncle Jake, but my mom does not.

“...that and more Republicans than should be legally allowed to gather in one state. No, you’re better off the fuck out of it. Take a breather after everything that happened with Trevor.”

Terri’s right. I’m best off getting away from Texas, at least for a little while. This place might seem to be straight out of some 1970’s Harlequin novel, what with the scent of salt and fish, the sound of gulls and the inquisitive stares of the locals at the interesting newcomer—not that I’m even all that interesting, but I’m definitely new—but it’s quiet and still, and that’s something I need in my life right now.

The bartender drops a couple more ice cubes into my mineral water and gives me a friendly wink. I smile back at him, nodding a thank-you.

I lower my voice and turn sideways, hoping not to be overheard. “I still didn’t expect to be transported back in time, though. I keep half expecting some salty fishing captain to cross my path at any minute and give me a hat tip. Honest to goodness, Terri, I swear, as I was coming into town, there was a house with a lady inside setting pies on her windowsills. Pies, for cripes’ sake. I mean, who still does that?”

She giggles. “Say it, Everly, come on. Say ‘for Christ’s sake.’” She pauses for a long moment before laughing at my discomfort. “Port Hope is clearly one of those places that you read about, honeybunches, a place that’s kind of frozen in time. And you’d best get with the program if you’re going to be hanging around for any length of time. Start hanging your unmentionables to dry on the line in that good-old salty ocean air. Well, not that you’re bothering with unmentionables these days.”

“Terri, stop!” I try to fight the giggle, but it bursts out anyway. “I’ll buy some more tomorrow. I just forgot to pack them, that’s all.”

“Ugh, whatever. Anyway, why not snag yourself a nice sea captain of your own while you’re there? You could spend the rest of your days gutting fish and wondering how many other ports he’s servicing, if you catch my drift.”

“Yeah, I think not somehow.” I roll my eyes. “I’m here for research, not salty captains.”

I force myself to avoid looking over at the bearded-beauty on the boardwalk outside. That’s really not what I’m here for. From now on, it’s just me and my research. I never should have bothered with any men. Turns out I’m a lousy judge of character. But I’m a brilliant researcher with a possible fellowship in my future, and that’s what I need to concentrate on right now.

“Love just isn’t for me,” I say with some finality.