by Tess Oliver
I ignored the comment. “Well, how about it?”
She began wiping the glass counter again. “I’m off in fifteen minutes.”
I picked up some mints. “Can I buy these? Ben’s ordering me a tuna melt with onions.”
She smiled and motioned me over to the register. “Just so you know, I never kiss on the first date.”
I paid for the mints and then leaned over the counter. “You already kissed me, remember? So it seems to me, we’re already past that first date.”
She placed the change onto my hand, and her fingers brushed my palm. “I mean a real kiss. Don’t get your hopes up just because you’re armed with those mints.”
“Point taken. I’ll be out there waiting for you with my useless mints.”
Chapter 6
Esme
His height made him easy to spot. The fact that he was completely different than most people strolling along the pier didn’t hurt either. Cash was standing watching the fishing boats come in. The birds hovered overhead like giant winged puppets dangling from strings. The Tail Chaser, my dad’s scandalously named boat, had not come in with the others. That was not surprising.
“Where’s Ben?” I asked.
The scar above his eye did not detract from the complete picture. He was definitely nice to look at, but something told me he’d seen and caused his share of trouble, and that was the last thing I needed.
“I think he thought it was going to be counterproductive to his matchmaking efforts if he stuck around for the sunset.” He straightened. I was five foot seven, but he was a good head taller. We strolled toward the end of the pier.
“Ben is wonderful, isn’t he?” I asked.
“He’s a very cool guy. You don’t meet many like him.”
Aside from the breeze leaning toward the bitter side, the sky and sea were in perfect form for a decent sunset. The sky had muted to a crystal pink tone, and the sea was at that glassy transformation of deep green to black. Fishing from the pier usually ended with the whispers of nightfall. So besides one large pelican, two especially squawky gulls and the pigeon clean-up crew that waddled through every evening to clear away the crumbs, bait and any other edible morsel, Cash and I were alone.
The fifty year old bench that the town council had placed there as a dedication to Melvin Tucker, the village’s founder, had been painted a teal blue at the beginning of summer. The brass plaque with Tucker’s name had been polished at the time of painting. But after the long, hot days of summer, the teal blue had faded to an odd gray color and the brass no longer glistened.
We sat down. “How was the tuna melt?” Cash had one of those dashing profiles that would look great in a black and white silhouette.
“Just like Ben said, the best this side of the Pacific.” He looked over at me. “How’d the rest of your day go? Did you meet up with those two clowns from this morning, or did you manage to stay clear of them?”
“Fortunately, I didn’t see them again.” Errant strands of my hair worked their way loose from my bandana, and I tried in vain to tuck them back into place.
“You have a hell of a lot of hair for one head.” He reached up and pushed a strand beneath the bandana. His fingertip brushed my ear, and as much as I tried to ignore my reaction, it was there, along with the tiny gasp that came with it.
I gazed absently out at the water. I’d temporarily pushed the arrival of Clint and Jacob from my head. Thinking about them brought up too much ugliness. And now they’d rented the house, my house. My dream of escape had been squashed and in the worst possible way.
“I guess I shouldn’t have started our sunset date with that subject,” he said.
“Yeah, probably not the best topic. I’ve been saving like a madwoman to rent that crummy, little cabin next to the lighthouse. I guess that idea’s been shot to hell. And worst of all, Clint…” I stopped. “Anyhow, how was your first day on the job?”
“It was good.”
“What did you do in, where was it, Nevada?”
He didn’t answer right away, and while it didn’t seem like too intrusive of a question, I wished I hadn’t asked it. “Nevermind.”
“No, that’s all right. None of it is a secret. I didn’t really have a family, at least no one I cared to call a family. In my teens, I ended up in a motorcycle club.” He gazed out at the ocean. “I’m just glad Ben was willing to look past my prior qualifications.” He relaxed back. “This might sound corny, but I’ve always had this crazy urge to live by the ocean. I’ve lived in some pretty shitty places and most of them were landlocked. Up until I was seventeen, I’d only seen the ocean in pictures. The club took a road trip to the coast that year.”
I faced him. “And… was it everything you thought it would be?”
“Hell yeah. It was even better than the pictures.” He pointed out to the horizon. “I mean, it just stretches past your thoughts and goes on from there. That line out there where the sky meets the sea, that’s the beginning of the rest of the world. It’s just unreal to think about. I grew up with one of those dads who…” He stopped and his long lashes dropped.
“One of those dads who didn’t dare let you dream?” I asked quietly.
His mouth tilted slightly as he looked up at me. “I guess you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“I do.” I relaxed back. “But my dad, as unfit as he was for parenting, he never laid a hand on me, you know?”
“Makes sense. I can’t imagine anyone ever raising a hand to someone like you.” He stared straight ahead, and his jaw tensed. I didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that he was thinking about his own father and that none of the thoughts were good.
Cash stood and offered me his hand. My fingers were lost in his giant grip. He led me to the railing, and we leaned against it, watching the rhythmic curls of water flow in over the sand. The sun glowed orange as it slowly slipped out of view.
“When you dreamt about living near the ocean, did you picture yourself a sailor, or a surfer or a marine biologist?”
His smile was not more than a turn of his lip, but it was a smile that could no doubt earn a girl’s phone number with hardly a word or compliment behind it. “Is there anything about me that says marine biologist?”
I shrugged. “Looks can be deceiving. You look like the kind of guy who could easily kill a man with his bare hands, but I’m sure that you’ve never even considered trying it.”
His gaze dropped, and he stared silently down at the water.
“Shit.” The word cracked out of my suddenly dry throat. “I just stuck my foot in my oversized mouth, didn’t I?”
He didn’t answer. I was relieved to drop the subject.
“I don’t know if I pictured myself as anything except a person enjoying life on the beach. Sun, wind and endless water, and if there was a cool boat to go with it then that would’ve been even better,” he said.
“Hey, why don’t we move this sunset viewing to the deck of Ben’s boat? He won’t mind. Sometimes, if my shifts between the candy shop and the restaurant are too close, I sit on his boat and read. There’s not always enough time for me to go home.”
“Sounds good.”
I grabbed his hand and pulled him along. Bentleys’ boat, the Molly Ray, hardly ever left the dock anymore. It always looked lonely when the other boats fired up and cruised out to sea.
With winter weather closing in on the village, most people were already home lighting fireplaces and burrowing down below fleecy throws. Most of the shops were closed, and Frank’s Bar and Grill, the one place that stayed open late was closed on Mondays.
The strong smell of fuel and fish lingered in the air as the last fishermen came in. Cash watched them hop along the pier, tying off the boats. “Where do they unload their catch?”
“A few miles up the coast is the place where trucks pick up the catches to transport them to the fresh fish markets. Then the boats head home. There are still about eight fishing families living here in Tucker’s Village and a
lot of retired fishermen too.”
“Hey, Esme,” Brent Foster called from his father’s boat. He and his older brother, Gregory, watched us walk by with less than welcoming expressions.
I waved back. “You’re definitely not the first stranger to walk through this town, but I have to say, you are really good at causing a stir, even though you’re not doing anything but strolling.”
“I’ve noticed.” He lifted our clasped hands. “Of course, I suspect that those scowls had more to do with me holding this hand than with the fact that I look like someone who could kill with my bare hands.”
“Might have been both. I did date Gregory for all of three days, which is somewhat of a record for me.” We stopped at Ben’s boat, and I turned to him. “I’m sorry I said that about you. What a shitty thing to say.”
He shook his head. “It’s all right. You seem to have an amazing intuition about people. Just don’t look too deeply into my soul. It’s kind of fucked up.”
“Yeah? I’ll bet there’s plenty of good stuff hiding beneath the fucked up part. You just need someone to dig it out.”
“I don’t know about that.”
I placed my hand on his chest. I wasn’t completely sure why except maybe I just wanted to touch him. “Let the intuition expert be the judge of that. Do you know how many guys would remember to buy mints after a tuna sandwich?”
“Yeah, any guy who had kiss stealing plans in his dirty, corrupt mind.”
I laughed as I stepped onto the railing and then the deck of the Molly Ray. The boat listed to the side slightly as Cash stepped onboard.
“You’re like a human anchor,” I said. We walked to the storage bench that ran along the bow and sat down. The sun was a mere yellow half globe being swallowed by the horizon. “When I was little, I used to think the sun was sliding into the ocean.”
“You mean it’s not?” he asked dryly.
I lifted his massive arm up and put it around my shoulder.
He squeezed me against him. “It gets pretty cold out here on the water. It’s nice. This is nice,” Cash said.
A loud, familiar laugh thundered over the marina. The flickering light from the Tail Chaser glowed in the distance. The raspy sound of my dad’s boat drew near. I stiffened under Cash’s arm, and he released me.
“Sorry, was I holding you too tight?”
I grinned up at him. “I don’t think that’s possible.” I wasn’t sure what’d made me say it, but it came to mind and popped out and now it was in the open. “My dad and brothers are coming in. That shabby sounding boat is the infamous Tail Chaser.”
“Tail Chaser?” He shook his head. “It’s definitely original. Is he going to be pissed that you’re sitting out here with me?”
“Don’t know and don’t care. I stopped taking orders from him when he stopped doing anything that was remotely dad like. He thinks he’s in his twenties. Acts just like my brothers. He believes it makes him the cool dad. I personally think it makes him an ass. Seton is a lost cause, but Bodhi could use someone pushing tidbits of sense into his head now and then.”
Their boat smelled like burning oil, and the extremely noticeable lack of fish odor. The dock creaked as the boat tapped the edge. Then a figure hopped out to tie it off. It was Clint. My shoulders dropped. “Shit.”
“That’s one of the bikers from this morning, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I sighed in disgust, and my breath produced a puff of white mist.
They stumbled onto the dock one by one, with their full duffle bags. My dad looked more drunk than any of them. I hoped they would lumber past without noticing us, but Bodhi, who usually didn’t get drunk because he would puke long before he’d downed enough alcohol, spotted us.
“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be home making dinner?” Bodhi asked.
Dad stopped and his big head turned our direction. He swayed like a giant tree that needed just one more cut of the saw to topple. “What the hell, Esme?” He leaned down. “Who the fuck are you sitting with?”
The cool, strangely calm flow of air that had surrounded Cash when the bikes had circled back this morning, returned now. “Cash Tremaine,” he said. “We met yesterday when I gave Esme a ride home.”
Clint smacked Seton on the shoulder. “Told you your sister was hanging around with a biker.” Clint sneered down at Cash. The five of them stood nearly shoulder to shoulder now, forming a thick headed brick wall of drunken stupidity.
“Go home, Dad. I’ll be along soon.” I needed them to leave before I died of pure humiliation.
“I th-think you should come with us.” Seton tried his best to sound authoritative, but the beer induced slurring of words made it hard to take him seriously.
“I think I’ll take my chances with the biker. Go home, and I’ll be along shortly to make you some eggs. After your visitors leave.” An offer of food was all that Dad needed. He walked on and the others followed.
Only Clint stayed behind. His face was still as hard and sharp as ever, and there was still no sign of a conscience in his deep set eyes. He’d filled out considerably, and he looked plenty frightening now.
“Is there a problem?” Cash asked calmly.
Clint squinted hard at him for a tense moment. “No problem at all.” He looked at me. “See you later, Esme.” He winked, and the gesture sent a chill down my back.
Cash didn’t take his eyes off Clint until he reached the road. Then he turned to me. “Are you going to be all right? That guy seems just one step short of crazy.”
“He is, and it’s a short step. I’ll be fine. As asinine as my dad is, he wouldn’t let Clint hurt me.”
“Those bags sure didn’t look filled with fish,” Cash said.
“I don’t ask anymore. I figure as long as they aren’t carrying heads or other body parts in them, I’ll just let them sink themselves— metaphorically speaking.” I laughed. “Maybe literally too if karma has any say in the matter.” Then the amusement faded as quickly as it came. “The sad thing is my dad used to be the best fisherman out here. People used to say that he had a sixth sense when it came to finding a good catch. My brothers both showed a lot of promise too.” I crossed my arms around me to shield against the cold. “Now that the sun has gone, it’s getting too cold to be out here. I know it was a short date, but do you mind walking me home?”
Cash hopped up onto the dock and turned around to offer me his hand. Seemingly forgetting his own strength, he pulled a little too hard, and I flew forward and smacked into his chest. His arms tightened around me, and I realized his overuse of power had been intentional. He peered down at me. His dark eyes gleamed in the wavering lights of the pier. “Just practicing for when you decide to let me have that first kiss.”
“I see,” I said. “Well, they do say practice makes perfect. Maybe I’ll hold back the kiss for longer than usual to make sure it’s perfect.”
His body radiated warmth and, frankly, standing in his strong arms was about the best thing to happen to me in a long time.
“That would be counterproductive,” he said, not releasing his hold on me.
“And why is that?”
“You make me wait too long and that kiss will be so damn unchained, I will have forgotten all the practice sessions.”
“Unchained, huh? Then I think I will prolong the wait. I’ve never had an unchained kiss, and I sort of like the idea of it.”
“I’ll remember that.” He slowly lowered his hands and made a point of gazing down at my mouth as he did so. It had been much warmer wrapped in his arms.
Chapter 7
Cash
The sound invaded my dreams disguised as a giant flock of geese honking all at once. It was hard to tell if the noise had caused the weird bird dream or if the feather-filled image had happened first, but on the second round, the horn yanked me from my deep sleep. I woke so fast, it took me a second to remember where the hell I was.
Hunter’s room was still filled with his stuff, his photos, his sailing trophies and even a
few of his coats and hats still hung on the hooks in the wall. I’d taken extra care not to touch anything. Something told me Ben wouldn’t want anything disturbed. It had been the only spare bedroom in the house. I’d offered to sleep on the couch, but Ben had insisted the room was just wasted space now and that his sentimentality sometimes overshadowed good sense. Since sentimental feelings were completely foreign to me, I had no real way of knowing how he actually felt, and so I left the room as it was.
The curtains were shut, but I could tell by the lack of shadows in the room that it was still dark outside. I heard Ben’s feet shuffling down the hall. Just as he knocked, the eardrum splitting horn broke the silence again.
“Come in.” I climbed out of bed and pulled on my jeans. Bentley flicked on the light and I shielded my eyes with my forearm. He looked pretty shell shocked himself.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Not sure. They’ll sound that alarm when there’s been a boating accident or when a storm surge overtakes the pier. But there was no storm surge. Whatever it is, they must need help.”
“Right.” I pulled on my sweatshirt and shoes while Ben zipped up his coat.
Lights were on all over the street, and neighbors were spilling out of their houses in a flurry of hurried confusion. With an unspoken plan of action, everyone headed to the marina.
A shroud of fog covered most of the town, and the dock was all but invisible. Puffs of mist squeezed up from below our footsteps as we reached the wood planks of the pier. Frantic voices called out from the water, but it was hard to see anything other than the floating silhouettes of masts and bows bouncing in the current. And that’s when the problem became obvious. Many of the boats that had, just a few hours before, been moored to the dock were now drifting aimlessly in the early morning tide. The occasional clunking sound of fiberglass hulls smacking into each other made everyone on the pier cringe.
