CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Chelsea
“Sorry. Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” I floated closer to Jake, overboard again. He was smiling and searching the water for his shirt. “I wasn’t paying attention.” I wasn’t going to tell him it was because the water running down his sculpted abs had made me lose any sense of reality.
“I think we can say we’re even.” He plucked his shirt from the water and wrung it out before tossing it into the boat.
I noticed he didn’t seem mad. I had been more than annoyed when he sent me tumbling into the creek. The only reason I had agreed to take him out was so that I could ask him more about his writing. Somehow, that had turned into a race and now we were both soaking wet. I hadn’t even gotten in the first question about his book.
“Maybe we should get back to the docks before either of us goes overboard again,” I suggested.
I followed every muscle along his back with my eyes as he hoisted himself into the seat. I had no idea all of that was under his T-shirt when I hired him. I bit hard on my lip and closed my eyes, willing myself not to think all kinds of dirty thoughts. Like how those muscles might feel under my fingertips and pressed against me. No, bad idea—very irresponsible and dangerous idea.
“Sure. Maybe we can try this again another time.” He smiled at me as he breezed past in his kayak.
I paddled, matching his slow pace. He sat relaxed, cruising slowly enough to see an egret in the marsh and a turtle slip off a log. There was so much more to see when you weren’t racing through. The orange hues of the sun cast the entire creek into a fiery dream. I could tell he was taking it all in.
“So, what do you think of Brees Island?” I was almost completely parallel to him. We glided at a steady rhythm, unlike our earlier sprint.
“It’s got something I’ve been searching after for a long time.” He sounded pensive. A mullet hopped in front of us.
“Really? What could that possibly be? We don’t even have a movie theater.”
I knew that vacationers loved the island. The beaches were beautiful and the seafood was always fresh, but they didn’t know what it was really like. If anyone of them had spent a winter here, they would think differently. Everything shut down. The tourists were gone, the landscape turned brown, and the chill from the humid winds cut right to the bone.
“No movie theater? Well, that explains some things.” He eased into the boat launch.
I waited until my bow touched the incline of the ramp before hopping to the side. “Yeah, no movie theater, no mall, no hospital. It’s like we’re cut off from civilization out here.”
“Sounds perfect, if you ask me.” He rested the paddle in the cockpit as he stepped out of the boat.
“Perfect? Where are you from? It’s boring and there’s nothing to do. I miss Chapel Hill and people who are interesting.”
I hadn’t stopped mourning college life. I’d finished grad school over a month ago. But sometimes I still felt like I was home on summer break, waiting for classes to start back up in the fall. I felt a sense of accomplishment for getting my second degree, but there was nothing good about college being over. I missed it every day I was here. I knew if I didn’t have a job lined up by September, I would have to stay on this island doing the same thing, day after day with no end in sight.
“I guess I don’t need much entertainment.” He winked as he turned to grab my boat and lift it into the rack.
It was a simple gesture, a flirty gesture I had received hundreds of times. But this was the first time I felt giddy, like I had just had a few sips of wine. I wanted him to do it again.
“That’s not what I mean. I know how to have a good time. But living on an island, you see the same people, have the same conversations, hear the same news over and over again. I miss meeting new people. The ones I haven’t known my whole life.”
“Would you consider a writer an interesting person?” he asked.
He was bold. It didn’t take much interaction with him to know he was a professional flirt, but I couldn’t help but like it. He was good at it.
“Maybe. Depends on the writing.” It didn’t hurt to flirt a little. My back was turned, but I heard him laugh. It made me grin.
“I see.” He lifted the kayak next to me. “I’m from a small town too. It’s not all that bad. There’s something to be said for people knowing who you really are.”
“Right. Like knowing when you sneak out of your parents’ house when you’re twelve, or everyone knowing you made straight As on your report card, or did you like the part about people giving you advice on what you should do with your life?”
I tightened the loops of the straps and made sure the kayaks wouldn’t fall over when we stepped away.
“Agreed. That part of small town life is rough, but it’s home. You can travel the world and live in twenty different cities, but deep down, there is only one home. You’ve got to love this place.”
I knew the answer he was expecting to hear from me. It would be too complicated to tell him how much I loved the island, but at the same time how much we needed a break from each other. Brees was stifling me.
“I do. I will always love it, but that doesn’t mean I have to stay.” This conversation had suddenly turned more serious than I wanted. The more he talked, the more I kept revealing. It was already a bad habit.
“I get it. Sometimes you have to leave home for a while to realize it’s the place you’re really supposed to be.” His hand gripped the kayak even though I had already secured it. It was as if he needed the extra balance.
“Speaking from experience?” I asked, wondering what had made him so pensive. All day he had been nothing but smiles.
“You could say that. I just miss home some days more than others.” He stepped back from the row of boats and adjusted his sunglasses.
I knew there was truth in what he said. I liked to remember my college days as the perfect escape from the island, but there were times when I missed the ocean sounds and friendly faces of home. Wherever Jake was from must be calling to him right now.
I tried to run my hands through my hair, but the creek water had tangled it. “Well, thanks for everything today.”
“Everything?”
“Yeah, taking the job. You really bailed me out this morning.”
The argument with my father and Derek turning in his notice seemed like it was days ago. What were the chances I would be able to fill the position so quickly?
“But, I need to change out of these clothes, and you might want to put on a shirt.” It was hard to talk to him while he stood dripping, shirtless, and looking incredibly edible.
He looked at his shorts and laughed. “Maybe not a bad idea. So, what time do I need to be here in the morning? Is it really five thirty?”
Finally, someone who recognized five thirty was the most ridiculous time to go to work. “Yes, sorry about that part. The fishermen are in early. They like to get their coffee and donuts.”
He slung his shirt over his shoulder. “All right. I’ll see you in the morning.” He turned and started walking toward the parking lot.
“Jake. Wait.” The words were out before I could take them back.
“Yeah?” He looked as confused as I felt.
“Since you’re new and everything, would you want to get something to eat? But, totally not a big deal if you can’t, because you’re probably tired and you need to change and then you have to be here so early and—”
“Sure.”
My pulse whirled, making me slightly off balance.
“Oh, really? Cool.” I hadn’t thought past the invitation.
“I have an idea. Why don’t you come to my place? I have a feeling it’s part of the island you might not know so well. Maybe it will be something different.”
“Have dinner at your place?”
My stomach flipped. This was starting to feel like a date. When he had started walking away, a part of me wanted him to stay a little longer. But a date? That was something else. I questioned why I would be resistant to him though. He was cute and sexy. He had made me laugh all day, and he had this crazy calming effect on me that was hard to ignore.
“I can’t guarantee it will be the best meal, but yeah, let’s try it. Consider it my thank you for the job.”
I didn’t know how to react. Dinner was crossing the line, but it was hard to explain how something about him put me at ease—no matter how many times I caught him checking me out today.
“Yeah, we can talk about writing,” I suggested.
I had tried all day to bring it up, but he kept asking work-related questions. Maybe over dinner I would get to ask him if words hit him like they did me. If he woke up in the middle of night with a life or death mission to get the words out. Yes, there were things I definitely wanted to ask him.
“But since you dunked me in the creek, I need to change. Give me the address and I’ll meet you in an hour.”
He smiled. “Ok. I’m at the Brees Campground, last trailer on the right. You’ll see the name, Silver Sand Dollar.”
“I don’t know what to make fun of first: the campground or the name.” I giggled and pulled my bike from the rack.
“It’s high living for me.” He retrieved a pair of keys from his soggy shorts. “See you in an hour.”
“Bye.” I grasped the handlebars and pushed down on the pedals—half-watching him walk away, and half-watching the road in front of me.
In an hour’s time, I would be having dinner with a handsome writer. I didn’t think I could imagine up a better ending to my day if I tried.