A Brush With Love In Fortune's Bay: A Fortune's Bay Novella

by Roberta Capizzi

  She stepped in and her eyes went of their own volition to the man behind the counter, who was now laughing with a guy who, from the back, looked like Jack.

  Conor’s smile brightened when he looked toward the door and met her eyes. “Ahoy!”

  She smiled. The joke no longer annoyed her. He didn’t mean to make fun of her, and it actually made her heart flutter a little knowing that it was a joke he reserved for her. The other man spun on the stool, confirming it was Jack. He smiled and lifted his chin in greeting.

  Her heart rate picked up as all eyes turned to her. She didn’t like being the center of attention, so she quickened her pace and plopped on the stool next to Jack, resting her elbows on the wooden counter.

  “What will it be?” Conor asked, placing an empty pint glass in front of her. “Whiskey? Guinness? Bloody Mary?”

  Giorgia chuckled, shaking her head. “Just tonic water with lime, please.”

  He brought a hand to his heart as if she’d just shot him. “Sacrilege!”

  Giorgia rolled her eyes. He was amusing, even though she was trying not to let herself like him. Much. He was funny and he was Irish, and he was extremely handsome. The combination was lethal.

  “What you up to? Where is your friend?” Jack asked.

  “She’s at the B&B. She either got food poisoning or a stomach bug. She won’t be able to take part in the Treasure Hunt, so I’ll have to bow out as well.”

  “You can’t,” Jack said, shaking his head. “It’s what you came here for.”

  “I’m not adventurous enough to do that by myself. Flying all the way from Italy was as far as I would go.”

  “Well, then Conor will join you.”

  Both Conor and Giorgia whipped their heads toward Jack. “What?” they said at the same time.

  “Yeah.” Jack shrugged as he reached for his glass. “You’ve been here all your life, and we used to take part in the hunt when we were young. You know the town like the palm of your hand and you could help her with the clues.”

  “Then why can’t you do it?” Conor asked, with a quirked eyebrow.

  “Because I have tours scheduled. You can leave the pub in your staff’s hands for a couple of hours, no big deal.”

  “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Giorgia shook her head. “I was going to do the Treasure Hunt just because Jerika wanted to. I’m not really looking forward to searching the town for something I won’t end up finding anyway.”

  “Who says you won’t be the first to find the treasure?” Jack asked. Giorgia cut him a side glance. “If Conor is on your team, you’re likely to win.”

  “Because he knows where all the clues are?”

  Conor laughed. “No, I’m not a cheater.”

  The way he said it made it sound as if he meant it in every possible sense of the word. But why should she care, anyway? She was leaving soon.

  “If you want the prize, and I’m on your team, you’ll get it. I know the town and I’m smart.” Conor put a hand to the side of his mouth and whispered out of the corner of his lips. “And maybe because pirate blood runs through my veins.”

  Giorgia chuckled. “And what about the luck of the Irish?”

  He grinned. “That, too.”

  “Oh, I see. That’s because you’re a Leprechaun, so you know where the pot of gold is hidden.”

  Conor grinned and, Oh, mio Dio, that grin was going to be the death of her, for real.

  “Yep, and don’t forget that if you catch the Leprechaun, you get three wishes granted. So start thinking what you want.”

  “When you two are done flirting, can I get another soda, please?” Jack asked.

  “We were not—” Giorgia said, a blush creeping up her neck.

  “Maybe we were,” Conor countered.

  Had she been flirting? Because, honestly, she’d never flirted a day in her life. And she had to admit it felt good.

  The following day, she thought about faking a headache, a stomach bug, even the measles, but when Conor showed up at the B&B, Giorgia’s fears disappeared like morning mist as soon as the handsome pirate smiled at her.

  “Ready for some deadly good fun?”

  Giorgia rolled her eyes. “I hope deadly is just for emphasis, or I’ll have to leave you on your own.”

  Conor laughed and nudged her elbow. “Come on, Miss Fearless. Let’s shake up your life.”

  Two hours later, Giorgia was still alive and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun. Conor was as funny as he was handsome. And he knew the town like the palm of his hand, which didn’t hurt. They were given a list of clues that took them all over the town—until this last one that would lead them to the treasure chest.

  “It’s on Swallow Island. Let’s go.” Conor took Giorgia’s hand after she read the clue out loud and pulled her behind him, as if he was afraid she wouldn’t follow. “We’ve got to reach the chest before the others.”

  Her skin tingled at the contact and her belly lurched as if she were on a boat in a stormy sea. He was as excited as a kid at Disneyland as he took off running toward the beach, where a strip of sand connected a small island to the mainland. Jerika had told her this isle could only be accessed on foot during the day because, when the tide came in at night, the strip of sand got swallowed by the sea and the only way to access it would be by boat. It only housed a small B&B and a café which didn’t exactly make it a tourist destination.

  They reached the small island covered with lush trees and palms, all decorated with Christmas tinsel and red and gold baubles. A funny image of Conor and herself trapped on the island, because of the tide coming in too early, came to mind. She shook away the silly thought as Conor’s fingers tightened around her hand. He should let her go now. She was following him and he no longer needed to hold her hand. As a matter of fact, she could pull it free from his grip, if she wanted. Then why was her hand still securely in his?

  “There’s a cove not far from the beach, behind the café.” He was smiling as he said the words. “The chest must be there.”

  His excitement rubbed off on her and she followed him with a skip in her step.

  They strode past the café, where a tall Christmas tree took up most of the outside patio, and reached a white, sandy beach where someone had made snowmen with sand and a Santa hat instead of a top hat. It was funny to see how they all managed to give the town a Christmas vibe despite the sunny and warm weather that didn’t exactly scream Christmas.

  At the far end of the beach, a cave, similar to those she’d seen in pirate-themed movies, sat nestled among palm trees and rocks.

  Conor pointed to it. “Now, you get in there and pull out the chest.”

  Giorgia’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

  His grin didn’t do much to quell the panic that squeezed her stomach, but at least it turned a bit of the fear into butterflies.

  “You’ll just have to crawl inside, take the chest, and bring it out. And the prize will be ours.”

  “I’m not going in there.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at him.

  He mirrored her stance. “Then someone else will get the prize, ’cause I won’t fit in there.”

  Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. A man and a woman, wearing fluorescent orange vests, walked toward them.

  “Those are the judges from the Mayor’s office. It means the treasure is here. Come on, get in there before someone else shows up.”

  Giorgia huffed even as adrenaline pumped through her veins. She held her breath and counted backward from three.

  “You can do it.” Conor whispered to her ear and her heart jumped into her throat. She shook herself and got down on all fours. It wasn’t as dark and claustrophobic as it had looked, and the chest was close to the entrance of the cave.

  A moment later, she emerged with the small, craftily decorated wooden chest in her hands, feeling like Indiana Jones at the end of a victorious mission. Conor laughed as she raised it in the air. />
  “Seems like we have a winner,” the female judge said as she approached the pair. She held out her hands and Giorgia handed the chest to her, while the other judge sent the group text that would inform all participants the hunt was over.

  An unfamiliar feeling of excitement bubbled inside Giorgia. Before she knew what she was doing, she threw her arms around Conor’s neck and hugged him. He staggered a little but hugged her back. The warmth was foreign and familiar all in one. She realized a moment too late the implications of her gesture and pulled back, her face lighting up brighter than Rudolph’s nose.

  “Sorry…I got carried away.” She cleared her throat and dug the toe of her sneaker in the sand. “Too much excitement, I guess.”

  Conor grinned and some unidentified emotion flickered on his face. She couldn’t really dwell much on it because a second later he took her face in his hands and kissed her. His lips pressed on hers, gentle and sweet, a little tentative too, as if he were afraid of her reaction. She lost the ability to think, her legs turned to jelly, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t care about the consequences of her actions or what other people would think. The moment his lips touched hers, she felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be—exactly who she was meant to be.

  Was the legend real, then? Was there really a ghost who brought true lovers together?

  When he pulled back, she felt as if someone had just deprived her of an important part of her. She stared into his eyes, as blue as the clear waters of the Gulf, and time stopped, just like in a cheesy romantic movie.

  “I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I rescued you on that beach and you thought I might be a pirate,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers.

  “You did?”

  Was this really happening? Did a hot Irish guy, who looked exactly like the man of her dreams, just tell her he’d been thinking about kissing her? If it was a dream, she hoped she’d be able to sleep a little longer, to see what else he would say or do.

  He brushed his thumbs on her cheeks. “I didn’t believe in attraction at first sight, let alone love. But when I saw you on that beach, I don’t know…I felt something sparkle to life inside me, like the punch you get after drinking too much Guinness.”

  “I wouldn’t know. I barely ever drank more than three sips.”

  “Boo-hoo. We must make sure to remedy that.”

  The promise in his eyes went beyond the Guinness, though, as if he wanted her to know he would do more than just offer her a pint of dark beer. As if he could make right all the wrong things in her life.

  And for once in her life, Giorgia wasn’t afraid to be reckless and let her heart lead.

  A week had flown by. What had, at first, felt like a never-ending vacation she couldn’t wait to be over, now felt more like a self-discovery trip. Not that she’d suddenly become a reckless daredevil, but on at least a couple of occasions, she’d managed to go with the flow without overthinking things the way she was so used to doing.

  Tomorrow they’d be driving back to Miami and fly back to California, where Giorgia would spend the rest of her three months before her tourist visa expired. She hoped that would be enough for her to plan her future. And that they would be enough to forget Conor.

  They hadn’t had the chance to talk about what happened because once they found the chest, things spiraled out of control as they were pulled into a whirlwind of celebrations. When they went back to the pub, where Jerika was waiting—looking inexplicably healthy—more celebrations followed, and they never had a chance to be alone. She should simply consider this her first vacation fling and move on.

  Their last morning power-walking session took them to the beach and then back into town. Jerika stopped outside the Italian restaurant and tugged on Giorgia’s hand. “Look.” She was beaming as she pointed at a sign on the door that read: Kitchen staff wanted. “Isn’t it just perfect timing? Let’s go in and see if you can speak to the manager.”

  “Jerika, what are you doing?” Panic crushed her chest at the realization of what her friend had just said. She grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from the door. “I’m not looking for a job.”

  “This would be perfect. You could finally do something you love and get to spend time with Conor, too. I’m starting to believe this Destiny ghost does exist and she wants you to stay in Fortune’s Bay.”

  Jerika couldn’t possibly believe that a ghost would be interested in meddling in Giorgia’s life or that she would want her to stay, could she? Her place wasn’t here. Sure, Conor was all she’d ever wanted in a man, the town was lovely, and she’d always dreamed of living by the beach, but that didn’t mean this was where she was supposed to stay.

  Giorgia sighed. “Jer, you know I have to go back to Italy at some point.”

  “No, you don’t. Not if you find a job and a man to marry.”

  “I’m not going to marry some random guy just because he rescued me. Stop trying to change me. I’m not spontaneous, I’m not adventurous—I’m not like you.”

  “That’s nonsense. You are.”

  “No, Jer. Get it out of your head. I’m an accountant not a cook.”

  Her friend huffed. “A boring and unhappy accountant who refused to pursue her dream.”

  “Dreams are for children. I’m nearly thirty; I have to be responsible.”

  Giorgia spun on her heels and walked away. Jerika’s quick steps followed her and she caught up as they reached the Wilde Pirate.

  Jerika pulled the door open and walked in. “Suit yourself.”

  The door closed in Giorgia’s face, but she didn’t make a move to follow her. Seeing Conor now wasn’t a smart idea, especially considering she’d failed to inform Jerika about the kiss. She should probably just go back to the B&B and start packing. And forget this week had ever happened.

  Giorgia had nearly reached the B&B when a male voice calling her name made her heart start galloping. She stopped but didn’t turn back. Footsteps approached and stopped just behind her.

  “Jerika told me about your conversation,” Conor said.

  She stared ahead, fearing that if she looked into those blue eyes she would start believing in meddling ghosts, too.

  “I know the owner of Mama’s Kitchen,” he continued. “I can speak to him and tell him what a great job you did the other night.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t stay here. And I already told Jerika I’m not a cook.”

  “You need a job to get a permanent visa, and if Mama’s Kitchen doesn’t work out, I could use an extra cook at the pub.”

  He put a hand on her shoulder and she flinched at the unexpected contact. When he spun her around, she kept her gaze on her feet, determined to not let those eyes cast their spell. Conor put a finger under her chin and forced her to look up—and she felt like she was drowning.

  “We don’t believe in coincidences here in Fortune. We’re a town of legends and myths. I wasn’t supposed to be on the boat with Jack that day. His skipper got sick at the last minute and he asked me to go with him. It wasn’t a coincidence that Jerika got sick the day before the Treasure Hunt. Nor was it a coincidence that you were there when Jose cut his hand. Or that Mama’s Kitchen needs a cook now that you’re about to leave.” He smiled, and she knew she was helpless. “You’ve come all the way from Italy and you ended up in Fortune’s Bay, of all places. Why didn’t Jerika take you to the more touristy spots? Why did she pick Fortune’s Bay? We were meant to meet. Destiny O’Hara brought you here—she probably had that dolphin wreck your kayak, just so that I could be the one rescuing you.”

  “You believe in all that?”

  He nodded. “I’m Irish. I grew up believing in red-bearded creatures hiding pots of gold, in fairies and legends. I’ve never fallen so hard and fast. It can’t be a coincidence that you show up in my life just when I started feeling the void, when I thought I’d be happy to settle down if I found the right woman.”

  “We barely know each other and you’re already talking about s
ettling down. How do you know we’re right for each other?”

  He shrugged then took her hands. Tingles exploded inside her body. “I can’t predict the future, but I feel we could be good together.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t like taking risks. Such a drastic move would be totally unlike me.”

  “Would that be such a terrible thing?” He gave a gentle tug and she ended up in his personal space, close enough that she could smell his aftershave but not close enough for their bodies to graze. “Was it so terrible to follow your friend on this adventure?”

  No, it wasn’t. Ever since that trip to Ireland, she’d never been this happy and carefree. But taking this step and following her heart would mean treading uncharted waters. Was she ready to close her eyes and take a plunge, without worrying about what lurked in the water?

  “Stay until after Christmas. Celebrate the New Year with us,” Conor said, pulling her to him. “If you still think we aren’t meant to be, I’ll let you go back to Italy.”

  “And if I realize you were right?”

  He grinned as his arms snaked around her waist. “Then I’ll say, ‘told you so’ and spend the days proving how true the legend is.”

  He leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. Their noses brushed and her legs wobbled just a little.

  “Ti amo,” he whispered. Giorgia’s eyes widened, more for the meaning of the words than for the fact he’d spoken them in her native language. Did he really love her?

  He smiled at her reaction. “I Googled it this morning, thinking it might come in useful if I needed to woo you. Did it work?”

  She failed to contain the grin that split her face in two, as she nodded. Her whole body warmed up, and she felt like she was floating ten feet off the ground, while swarms of butterflies flapped their wings inside her chest and little blue birds chirped all around them. The feeling was unfamiliar but at the same time it felt just right, like a missing piece falling into place. She’d waited all her life to experience the punch, the flutter, and all those sensations she’d read about in novels. Those feelings she’d thought only existed in books and movies. Those same feelings that exploded like fireworks inside her now, heating her chest and enveloping her heart like a plaid blanket on a cold, snowy night. Mamma mia, she sounded like a cheesy heroine from a romance novel, now. Her grin grew wider at the realization of how much this week in Fortune’s Bay had changed her—of how much Conor had changed her.