Chapter 14 – Everly

The food looks and smells delicious, but he hasn’t taken a bite yet, and I’m wondering whether it would seem impolite for me to make the first move. The way he’s looking at me...the expression has shifted. The gentleness has faded a little, and what’s replaced it looks predatory.

“Shall we?” I venture, but he holds up a hand.

“Resist it, Everly. Look over the food, savor the way it smells, think about which one you’d like to try first. It will make the first bite all the sweeter.” He reaches forward, hand hovering over a crab paste, and I think he might take a spoonful, but he meets my eyes. “What would this taste like? How would it feel inside your mouth?”

I swallow, suddenly hungrier than I think I’ve ever been, but enjoying the anticipation. Is this what I glimpsed in him earlier on the boat? Is this what had me so confused and so turned on? Relinquishing control to him would be such pleasure.

“Tell me about your work, your research.”

My mind jumps from the food to the conversation, confused, exhilarated. “Port Hope,” I say, not sure where to start. “Port Hope is unique. Or, I think it is, anyway. I’ve studied sharks all my adult life. They’re my passion. When I was studying for my masters, I came across an account by an early twentieth-century marine biologist who had visited here... He said that Port Hope’s hammerhead population grows especially large, especially strong. He said there was something in the unique location of the breeding grounds that gave them ample food and shelter.”

He reaches forward, takes an oyster from the tray in front of us and swallows it down, keeping his eyes fixed on me.

Should I eat something now?

I’m not sure what he wants me to do.

Does it matter what he wants? I’m an independent woman. But then...something about him demands respect.

I take a breath but ignore the food, seeing a smile crease his lips. “When I was writing a paper for a biological journal, I came across the Port Hope account again, and I decided to look into it, to see if there was any corroborating evidence.”

“And there was?”

I shake my head, and then my stomach clenches as his foot brushes my ankle. It’s there for a moment, then it’s gone. It takes me a second or two to recover.

“No,” I blurt quickly, taking a few deep breaths. “No, actually, there were no more reports that said the same thing. But a company called Trenton Investments had filed a number of scientific studies into the local shark population. After a bit of digging, I found inconsistencies running through all of the work Trenton had done, scientists who didn’t agree on crucial details but still came to the same conclusion, that there would be no harm to the local hammerhead population if Trenton went ahead with their development.”

“Development?” He points at the breaded salmon. “Take a bite of that.”

My hands are shaking so much as I lean over the table with my knife and fork, cut a small bite of the dish and place it in my mouth. Fuck, it tastes good. I chew slowly, the flavors seeping out over my tongue, down my throat. My pussy clenches, and I close my eyes, unsure of what’s going on inside my body.

Did I just think the words “fuck” and “pussy”? I hardly even noticed them.

“What development?” he asks, and my eyes snap open. He’s fixed on me, watching my face while I eat.

Damn, this is sexy.

I swallow the salmon slowly, making him wait while I take a sip of my mineral water.

“Trenton Investments wants to turn Port Hope into a tourist haven. They have passed through most of the paperwork already, but the hammerheads were a problem for them. With such a large population, so close to the shoreline, it would be impossible to make the place family friendly. You and I both know that the sharks will mostly keep to themselves, and there are beaches and inlets that would be totally safe, but investors would be reluctant to sink money into building luxury apartments, shops, and cafes when any day might see a shark attack and the end to it all.”

“So I assume they have a solution to that?”

I nod. “Of course, in theory, it would be possible to kill off all the hammerheads, destroy their environment, and make sure they never come back. But that kind of thing is legally impossible, thank goodness. So they want to build a shark exclusion zone instead, right out into the bay. They commissioned a scientific study to prove that the sharks and the tourists could live safely side by side. It made for very interesting reading.”

He takes another oyster from the tray, but instead of eating it himself, he stands, leaning over the table, and holds it out to me. Instinctively, I open my mouth, my hands staying where they are, and he slides the oyster between my lips. Fuck, what is happening to me? I squeeze my thighs together, but it’s too late to stop the juices leaking out. I feel the dampness between my legs and shiver, confused that I’m not embarrassed. I’m excited.

As he sits back down and takes a sip of his lime and soda, I try to pick up the thread of my account again. “Reading,” I say, hesitantly. “It was interesting to me because of the inconsistencies. It was obviously written deliberately to support Trenton’s application for planning permission. But when I started reading it, I realized that there was a hint among the data that the Port Hope account I’d been so intrigued by was accurate. The idea that the hammerheads here could be an as-yet unclassified breed, maybe even a distinct species, was too good to pass up. It would make my name as a researcher.” I shake my head. “But then I realized there was more. It looked like Trenton’s scientists were wrong. Their report stated that the exclusion zone would cause no significant impact to the shark population, but in reality, it would destroy essential habitat and disrupt the delicate eco-system.”

The look on his face is one of calm interest, and I know that he’s taken in every word I’ve said to him, despite the interruptions. His eyes say it all: he’s as concerned for the welfare of Port Hope’s sharks as I am, maybe inspired by my passion for the subject, but nevertheless, he’s an ally. And it feels good to know there is someone in my corner, even if there’s nothing he can do.

“So that’s why I came out here.” I brush a stray hair away from my face. “I have to disprove Trenton’s research, and I have to do it before their application goes through the final stage of planning. If I can prove that the breeding ground is farther in to the shore than they concluded, then I can stop all this from going ahead.”

He nods slowly. “I’m glad to be helping, even if it is in a very small way.” Then he points at one of the dishes in front of us. “Try that,” he says.