Twenty-Three
Ben
I kicked a log over with my foot as the flames rushed toward the stars. The work at the store was easy, but at the end of the day, all I wanted to do was sit outside with a cold beer, listen to my favorite music, and see how big a fire I could build. Somewhere on that list, I wanted to add spending time with the girl who had pretty blue eyes, but it seemed best to keep things light with Chelsea. I wasn’t here for all the strings that came with getting attached to a girl like her.
I couldn’t do that to her. She didn’t deserve to get wrapped up in the baggage that came along with the Ben Baldwin package.
I tipped my bottle back. I knew she was waiting for me to ask her out. The hints were there. I also knew spending time with her could only lead to one thing, and if we both were willing… I shook my head, imagining a night alone with her. It would complicate things. Light was best. No drama.
I smiled thinking about how her nose crinkled when I threw out suggestions for her songs. She was damn cute. Every time I saw he spitfire side, I had to fight the urge to pull her close and kiss her. That wasn’t good.
Today was her day off from the store. It didn’t feel the same when she wasn’t there. Whenever I had a break, I found himself wandering to the register to see what words had popped in her head. Instead I’d find Bertie waiting with a to-do list.
I imagined Chelsea spending the entire day cocooned in her hammock, hatching song ideas. There was no doubt she was talented. I couldn’t write a greeting card, much less a song. But I knew she had that special something. When she sang her words, it was like witnessing someone who had figured out how to trap lightning shards in a bottle. The words never left me—they stuck in my head. I was afraid they weren’t going anywhere.
I tossed another piece of driftwood on the flames. If I helped her, it would mean calling in a few favors. They would be small favors, but it involved reaching into the pit. Why did she have to have dreams that took her in that world?
The bottle was empty. I walked into the Sand Dollar to grab another. I had the next two days off in a row, and I planned to finish the case I brought home with me. I wished it didn’t bother me so much that I was going to go three days without seeing her. Three days was way too long. I considered stopping by the store tomorrow to say hey. I could pick up some more beer and steal a smile.
The wind had picked up and every once in a while, instead of reaching high, the flames from the fire whipped sideways. One of the customers at the store had mentioned a storm was off the coast, but everyone had their fingers crossed it would blow on by and miss the island.
I made a mental note to check the radar in the morning. Maybe it meant bigger waves. I might be hitting the surf again tomorrow.
I woke up to Silver Sand Dollar rocking every few minutes from a big gust of wind. It howled at the corners. I rubbed my eyes and strolled to the bay window.
I had never seen anything like it. The white caps were wide and high. I wasn’t the only one who had thought about surfing. The ocean was dotted with daredevils.
I scratched my head, considering plans for the day.
The camper door sounded with heavy pounding. “Jake! You in there?”
I pulled on the lever. “Good morning, Carl. How are you?”
The old man steadied himself on the door and climbed up the stairs. “Not too good. Look’s like we’re going to have to evacuate the campground.” His pale eyes filled with concern.
“What?” The skies were gray, but it didn’t look that bad.
“Yep, weatherman’s calling for her to hit tomorrow night. I can’t take a chance with people getting blown away out here. You’ll have to leave the island and come back when she’s all gone.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his front pocket and offered me one.
“No, no thanks. I don’t smoke.” I hoped to God he didn’t light up inside the camper. “Does that mean everyone on the island is leaving? How did it get so bad so fast?” I had overheard one of the clerks at the store yesterday making jokes about the bread and milk rations, but I didn’t think much of it until now.
“She must have hit some warm water. Changed over from a tropical storm to a hurricane overnight. Now she’s coming straight for us so it’s best if you pack up and head inland. As long as the bridge doesn’t get wiped out on the other side, you can come back over when the ferry service is up and running again.” He patted me on the back.
I tried to think through my options. I didn’t want to leave Brees Island, but I had never been in a hurricane. I still knew enough to understand that the Sand Dollar wouldn’t be a safe place to stay.
“When do I have to leave?” I had no interest in packing my things in the duffle bag and driving west.
“Mandatory evacuation for nonresidents through tomorrow morning. My guess is they’ll run the ferry all night to get people off the island.” Carl had a hand on the door. “I’ve got to get the word out to everyone else, and then start securing the place.”
“Do you need some help?” I offered.
“I don’t want to keep you. You need to get moving.” He wasn’t convincing.
“I can leave later. Let me help you, please.” I didn’t know what storm prep entailed, but I figured Carl and Flora couldn’t do everything alone.
He paused in the doorway for a minute. “All right, but I want you to make the ferry tonight.”
“No problem. I can do that.” I hoped that sometime in the next twelve hours the storm would change course and I could stay. I would help as long as I could, and buy some time in the process.
Carl smiled. “Get some clothes on and meet me at the office. Flora will have plenty for you to do.” He turned. “Thank you.”
I looked down and realized I had opened the door half-dressed. I laughed. “Will do. Tell Flora I’ll be down soon.”
He hobbled out of Silver Sand Dollar.
I turned on the television overhead, and my eyes widened as I saw the circular shape of the storm hovering in the Atlantic Ocean. What in the hell? Across the screen in big letters was the name of the storm: Hurricane Campbell. I shook my head and turned for the shower.
Flo had given me specific instructions for tying the campers down. It was a useless effort if the winds were going to be as strong as predicted. But Carl wasn’t going down without a fight. There were a few scrubby oaks along the backside of the campers, and I looped the heavy rope through the branches before hooking it to each carriage. I had a feeling a wind that strong would rip these poor trees right out of the sand, but there weren’t a lot of options out on the beach like this.
I looked down the shore and watched the surfers congregate. This was paradise to them. The highest waves of the year. They could ride for what seemed like miles.
“Baby, you’re not staying are you?” Alice had a suitcase in her hand.
“No, I’m helping Carl and Flo out before I hit the road.” I walked over and reached for her suitcase. “Let me get that for you.” She looked panic-stricken.
“Oh, thank you. I’m a bundle of nerves with the storm on the way. I hate to leave Pirate’s Booty like this.” She fiddled with her keys until she finally popped the trunk for me.
“I think you’ll be ok, Alice. You’ll make the ferry and you’ll be on your way to clear skies.” I smiled at her and shoved the bag into the car.
“These storms make me so nervous. What if Pirate’s Booty doesn’t make it? This entire beach could be wiped out.” A gust of wind blew her bleach blond hair across her face. “It’s time for me to go.” She threw her arms around my neck. “Don’t stay too much longer. Get on the ferry before tomorrow, ok?” She slid into the driver’s side and rolled down the window.
I didn’t want to give her false hope. There was no way to predict Campbell’s severity. This could be a devastating storm for such a small piece of land.
“I’ll be fine. You be safe.”
“If I don’t see you again, it was nice having you as a neighbor, Jake.”
I smiled. I had waited all summer for Alice to move on, but I had to admit I felt bad parting like this. She was clearly a nervous wreck. I tapped the top of her car and watched as my wacky summer neighbor rolled along the campground drive.
I had one last camper to secure, and then I would shower before packing my bag. The sky was dark but the rain held off. I still hoped that the storm would turn.
I grabbed the rope and attacked another tree.
My shoulders ached and my neck throbbed. I had pulled something. The football injuries had a way of resurfacing when my body wanted me to slow down. No time for that. Carl needed help getting the plywood on the office windows. It wasn’t something Flora could handle. I wondered if I would be pushing my luck by spending another night in the Sand Dollar. According to the latest projections, there was still another twenty-four hours before Hurricane Campbell was supposed to make landfall.
The campground was empty. Every one of my neighbors had made it onto one of the ferries. The vessels were all running in one direction, trying to deliver tourists to safer territory as quickly as possible.
I wondered if there was mass chaos at the store. Would Chelsea be there all night selling bottled water and batteries to the locals who stayed behind to face the storm? She was still stuck in my head, and I knew that part of my reluctance to leave the island was tied to her. But she had her parents, her family—she would be fine.
However, technically I was supposed to be at work on Sunday. I hadn’t called the store yet to tell her I was being evacuated. I owed her a phone call before I left.
I pulled up the number to the store and hit send.
“Davis,” Bertie answered on the other end.
“Hey, Bertie, it’s, uh, it’s Jake. Is Chelsea around?” I kicked himself for forgetting who I was supposed to be.
“Jake! We have been worried about you, honey. No one has your number—” She was cut off.
“Jake?” Chelsea must have grabbed the phone from the nosey clerk.
“Yeah. Thought I would check in. How are things going down there?” I leaned against the counter.
“We’re getting ready to close. What about you? I don’t have your number and I feel like an idiot for not having you fill out any paperwork.”
“Close?” I figured they would stay open until the power went out.
“Yeah, we’re cleaned out. The shelves are empty except for some gum and a few rafts.”
“Wow. I guess people take these storms seriously.” I tried to get a visual on an empty store.
“Yeah, it’s crazy. Now we just have to sit and wait for her to hit.” She lowered her voice. “Do you have somewhere to go?”
The question hit me in the center of my chest. It was the tone in her voice. “Uh, no, not really. I packed my bag. I was going to hop the next ferry, but—”
“No, don’t!” She paused. “I meant, don’t leave if you want to stay and feel like trying a hurricane.” She exhaled and her voice was even softer. I knew there had to be a ton of people near the register. It sounded noisy. “You can stay with me. I have room.”
I looked at the bag sitting on the checkered quilt, and then out to the sea that had turned a dark, murky shade.
She sounded remorseful. “Sorry, I thought you might want to stay. Just forget it. Be careful, and will you call when you get back?” She backtracked quickly, and I couldn’t handle disappointing her or the pang her words shot through my chest.
“I’ll meet you at your place.” I closed my eyes, knowing I had just lost it. But I couldn’t stand making a pretty girl sad, not this one.
I grabbed my bag, closed the door, and threw my belongings in the back of the Jeep. I jammed it in reverse before heading straight to Chelsea—before I had a chance to talk myself out of running toward a storm.
Twenty-Four
Chelsea
I gripped the steering wheel tightly. I would be home in thirty seconds. As soon as I heard his voice on the other end of the phone, I felt relief followed by instant panic. All day I had been trying to figure out when I could sneak out and drive by the campground. He didn’t know about storms, and I couldn’t remember if there was a TV in the Sand Dollar. The need to warn him and help him distracted me from the minute I knew the storm was going to hit Brees Island. How could I not have his phone number?
And now he was headed to my place to ride out the storm. I was going to have to call my mother and come up with some kind of excuse for not driving there tonight. I would figure out an excuse. This wasn’t something I was willing to undo.
I pulled the car in all the way under the house. There wasn’t much else I could do to protect it. Taking the steps as quickly as I could, I sprinted into my apartment and surveyed my room. Total disaster. My bed was unmade, half the week’s dirty clothes were on the floor, and there was music everywhere.
The music added charm, I thought. The clothes, however, were a mess. I raced around the room, picking up armfuls of T-shirts and sundresses. I shoved everything into the hamper and returned to make my bed. Had I really thought this through? I pulled the comforter tightly under the pillows. We had been working together for a couple of weeks. We had these moments that made me breathless, but should I harbor him during the storm?
I sat on the edge of the bed while my mind sorted through my reasons for inviting him to stay. There was the obvious—he was hot and I wanted to spend the night with him. Did I need to analyze it anymore? Deep down I knew there was a lot more to Jake than what everyone else could see on the outside. He was smart and creative. He might be the first guy who understood music the way I did. It didn’t seem to matter what was going on. He would stop and listen, like every word I said was as important as the sun in the sky. It was almost too good to be true that someone like him had washed up on the island this summer.
I headed into the kitchen. It was cleaner than the rest of the apartment, but there was an unwashed mug and last night’s pasta bowl.
I jumped when I heard the knock at the sliding door. I walked around the kitchen island and slid back the glass.
“Hey.”
I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and wondered if he could read my thoughts. I was ready to jump him on the porch. He held a duffle bag, filling the entire frame of the door with his broad shoulders. God, he was sexy.
“Hey.” He smiled and stepped in the kitchen. “Thanks for letting me stay. I didn’t really want to evacuate, but the campground is closed. Carl and Flora kicked me out.”
“Oh yeah, absolutely. You shouldn’t have to leave.” Suddenly, the idea of him leaving the island or my house seemed like the worst possible idea.
I flinched as something loud clanged against the side of the house.
Jake reached for my shoulder. “You ok? I think that was your hammock.”
“Yes.” I laughed. “I think I’ve been around too many anxious people all day. The hammock—I guess I need to take that down before the storm hits.”
“Let me help,” he offered. He placed his bag on the floor and walked to the porch. The wind had kicked up another notch.
I followed him. It was nice he was here. He helped store the loveseat, rocking chairs, and hammock in the storage shed under the house. Once the deck was cleared, he worked on the shutters that folded across the windows. There was an advantage to having an old beach house. I had built in shutters rather than plywood and a hammer to cover the windows.
“What about your neighbors? Are they going to secure their part of the house?” He eyed the apartment next to mine.
I hadn’t seen any of my neighbors. Most of them were temporary summer residents, and they rotated weekly.
“I don’t know. I’ll try them.”
I knocked on their doors, but it was possible they had evacuated for the mainland. Jake decided it was best to help everyone out and started hauling their deck furniture down below too.
By the time we finished securing the entire house, it was dark and the rain had started. Big heavy sheets f
ell on the roof and the beach.
My eyes widened when the lights flickered. “I guess I should get some candles ready.” Most of them were in my room. I walked past Jake and collected a couple to space out around the apartment.
“I didn’t think the storm was going to hit until tomorrow.” He watched me light the candles.
“I think it’s still on course, but if the wind is bad enough, it knocks the power lines down. We lose power all the time. It doesn’t have to be a hurricane.”
“Ok. So now what?” He arched his eyebrows.
I felt a rush of anticipation race through my veins. I reached for a bottle of wine. “How about a drink? A private hurricane party.” I smiled.
I had been surrounded by people on edge about the storm the entire day. Would it destroy homes and businesses? How long would the island be shut down? The locals knew the drill, but it didn’t make the potential impact any less stressful. Right now, I knew exactly how I wanted to release the building tension.
“A drink sounds good.” He took the bottle from me and fastened the corkscrew to the top while I pulled out two glasses from the cabinet.
He filled them over halfway and handed one to me. “To my first hurricane.” He winked.
I had to force myself to drink the wine and stop staring at his face. A face that looked perfect and symmetrical. He had a deeper tan than when he first started working, and his eyes looked relaxed. I wanted to reach up and run my fingers through his hair, but I kept my hands on the wine glass.
“To your first hurricane.” I grinned and took a bigger sip.
The wine tingled the back of my throat just like the excitement racing in my veins. We were utterly alone, and I knew what happened when we were alone—what always happened.
The wind shook the house and the lights flickered to darkness. The only glow came from the candles I had just lit.
“I guess that’s what you mean by a strong wind,” Jake teased and stepped closer. He placed his glass on the counter. His eyes flared in the candlelight. I recognized the look. It was the same one I was wearing.
Double Mountain Trouble: A MFM Menage Romance Page 63
