“I know. But it sounded good in theory.”
“Getting bored yet?”
“Honestly, yeah, I was, but things are starting to pick up. Shelby taught me how to operate the boat and introduced me to some of her friends . . .”
“So you and Shelby are . . .”
“Nothing.”
“Because . . .”
That was a good question, and thankfully Eric’s phone rang before Declan had to answer it. Shelby was hard to read, and a rebuffed pass might make things awkward for him at the marina later. He had to live in what was basically her backyard for another two and a half months—he didn’t want her to be wary of him or get branded a creepy pervert.
He didn’t need that getting around Magnolia Beach. And it totally would.
At the same time, he couldn’t deny he found her attractive. Plus, she was interesting, totally different than most other women he’d dated, and the complete opposite of Suzanne. No dating site would have ever matched them, but there was something about her that sparked in him—and not just because he was bored or lonely.
He was able to distract Eric from further conversations about his current situation—or Shelby—with questions about Eric’s classes and research, and Declan left with a list of books he now wanted to read. He wasn’t sure about the depth and breadth of the African-American literature section at the Magnolia Beach public library, but he could be optimistic and at least see what they had.
But his long, late lunch with Eric, while great, had him leaving the city during rush hour, adding an extra half hour to the drive back to Magnolia Beach. After a day of mostly walking around New Orleans followed by hours spent on the road, he was glad to see the entrance to the marina.
Shelby’s Jeep was there in its usual place, but the lights were off in the upstairs part of the building where her apartment was. She’d left the outside lights on, though, creating puddles of light and giving him plenty to see by as he made his way through the parking lot.
Although the marina might be noisy in the mornings, it was nearly silent in the late evenings, something that had been hard for him to adjust to but he had grown to enjoy.
But as he walked by the main building, he heard humming. And singing. It was a little off-key and the words were unintelligible, but it was music.
And it was coming from above him.
There, on the porch that looked out over the marina, was Shelby. She had her feet propped up on the railing, and her toes were wiggling in time to whatever was playing in her headphones.
He still couldn’t identify the song, as Shelby alternated between mouthing the words, humming, and the occasional “la-la-mmm.” She had a notebook of some sort in her lap, and she was sketching, pausing every now and then to tap out a beat with the pencil.
It was cute.
The oversized headphones framed her face, and her hair was twisted up on top of her head in a messy knot. It wasn’t exactly cold, but it was chilly by Southern standards, and she had on a long-sleeved T-shirt and sweatpants to combat the breeze coming in off the water.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there watching her, but when she reached for the beer bottle beside her, she finally saw him, jerking in surprise and nearly overbalancing in her chair.
She righted herself, pulling the headphones off and clearing her throat. “Declan! You startled me.”
“Sorry.”
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long.”
A second later, he heard a jingle of tags and the sounds of toenails on the decking. Cupid’s shaggy head peered down at him, then she turned to Shelby and woofed.
“Yeah, I could have used that warning a little sooner,” Shelby muttered as she reached over to pet the dog. “Are you just getting back?”
He nodded. “I drove over to New Orleans today.”
“That sounds like fun. This is actually a good time of year to go. It’s not quite so hot and sticky.”
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, then he shrugged. “Well, I guess—”
“Would you like—” Shelby said at the same time. “Sorry. You first.”
“Go ahead.”
She cleared her throat. “Um, would you like a beer?”
His pulse kicked up. “Sure.”
“Come on up.”
The sign on the gate at the bottom of the stairs said, “Private,” but it wasn’t locked and the latch was easy to release. Cupid greeted him at the top, and Shelby closed her sketch book, carrying it inside with her. She returned a second later without the book, but carrying a bottle by the neck, which she handed to him as he took the chair beside hers.
“What were you drawing?”
“Nothing. Just doodles. I’d been inside the shed all day working on inventory and needed to clear my head.”
He propped his feet on the railing, too, and leaned back in his chair. “Nice view.” From this vantage point, he had a clear view of all the boats bobbing in their slips and all the way out to Mobile Bay until it blended into darkness.
“Yeah. I had Ryan add the deck four years ago when I moved in. It gives me a good view of everything going on.”
“Surveying your kingdom?”
She smiled. He could tell she really loved it here. “Just my little part of the world.”
“It’s nice. Very peaceful.”
“Right now it is. Come spring and summer, though, people are actually on their boats, so it can get noisy, even at night.”
“Yet you still live here.”
She took a sip of her beer. “Someone needs to be on the property in case of emergencies. Before I moved in, we’d have staff taking turns crashing on a cot in the office.”
“And now you’re on call twenty-four/seven.”
“Honestly, it’s not usually much of a problem. And it’s a good trade-off. I live rent-free, we save money not having to pay staff just to sleep, and they get to go home to their families every night.”
“You don’t get lonely out here?”
“No. I have Cupid.” At the sound of her name, the dog padded over to Shelby and dropped her head into Shelby’s lap for a scratch behind the ears. “And I stay pretty busy during the days, so it can be nice to be alone.”
“See, alone time isn’t bad,” he teased.
“No it’s not. But self-inflicted solitary confinement can be.”
“I spent the day in New Orleans,” he protested. “Plenty of time with all walks of humanity.”
“That’s not quite the same thing. What took you over to New Orleans?”
“I went to visit the architecture. To look at the buildings and the houses.”
“Is that normally what you do when you’re gone all day? Go look at buildings?”
“Yep. Some people like to look at nature, some people like to look at art. I like to look at buildings.”
“The old ones or the new ones?”
“Both. For different reasons. I walked through the French Quarter, downtown, and some of the Garden District. And then I had lunch with a friend.”
“So you do have friends.” Shelby’s eyes widened as she mocked him. “I knew you couldn’t be serious about not liking people.”
“Eric was my college roommate. I didn’t really have a choice. I had to live with him.”
“And he lives in New Orleans now?”
“No, he was in town for a conference. He lives in North Carolina now.”
“That’s nice, though. You had a chance to catch up.”
“But there’s a lot I didn’t get to see because I met up with him, so I’ll need at least another trip or two. I also want to go back and drive through some of the Katrina-damaged areas.”
Shelby wrinkled her nose. “Disaster tourism. That’s tacky.”
“But educational for me. I’m m
oving to South Florida, after all. Hurricanes are a possibility. Plus, sustainable and low-impact design is one of my interests. Some of the rebuilding has really incorporated interesting ideas.”
She shook her head. “You don’t have to go all the way to New Orleans to learn about hurricane damage. Hell, you could talk to people here. We’ve been hit plenty of times.”
“Let me guess, you could introduce me to some people?”
She smiled as she nodded. “The historical society, the mayor’s office—they’ll all have lots of before and after photos, stats, and more details than you probably want.”
“And you?”
“I’ve been through a few. We evacuated before Katrina, though, and went to stay with friends in Montgomery. There was a lot of damage, but we were pretty lucky.”
“You sound nearly blasé about it.”
She shrugged. “Every place has its natural disasters—tornadoes, floods, blizzards. No matter where you live, there’s some way Mother Nature can kill you. Hurricanes are just the price of living on the coast,” she said very matter-of-factly. “Want me to teach you how to make a hurricane emergency kit, too?” she teased.
“Maybe.”
There was another moment of quiet as they both drank. “So,” Shelby finally said, “where else have you been to look at the buildings?”
“Mobile, some of the plantations. There’s a lot of variety in a relatively small driving area.”
“And what do you think of Magnolia Beach? In your professional opinion, that is.”
He hesitated. “Just a typical small town.”
She’d heard his hesitation. “You think it’s ugly.”
Great. Now I’ve insulted her. “No,” he said carefully. “Just . . . architecturally un-notable.”
To his surprise, she laughed. “Fair enough. We have other things going for us.” There was pride in her voice.
“You like it here, don’t you?”
“Yeah. Why? Do you think that’s weird or something?”
“To me, yes. I can’t imagine living in a place this small.”
“You haven’t given it much of a chance, hiding out on the Lady Jane and all.”
“I’m not hiding, for goodness’ sake.” He was getting exasperated at her insistence, but then he caught her small smile. She was doing it on purpose. “You tell me, then, what’s so great about Magnolia Beach?”
“It’s a close-knit community of good, friendly people.”
“That sounds like an ad campaign.”
She acknowledged that with a tilt of her head. “It was, actually, but that doesn’t make it less true.”
“And that’s why you like it here?”
“It’s home,” she said as if that explained everything. “It’s where I belong. I’ve got my family, my friends, my dog, and a really excellent Internet connection for everything else.”
“That’s enough for you?” Belatedly, he realized that could sound insulting.
She took a long drink before answering. “Of course not. I have goals and plans. But I’ve got a firm foundation here—a happy life to support those goals and plans, so anything more is just gravy.” She shrugged a shoulder, “But then, I’m also not the person living on a boat in a town where I don’t know anyone because I’m in between jobs and have nowhere else to go. I think you’re the one who needs to be having long thinks about what’s ‘enough’ out of life.”
Yeah, he’d insulted her. Smooth move. “It’s only temporary. And I wasn’t saying there’s anything wrong with living here. It’s just not for me.”
“But Miami will be?”
It had to be. “That’s the plan.”
“City boy.”
He couldn’t tell if that was meant to be an insult or not. “Born and raised. Give me smog and noise and traffic and crowds.”
“Ugh. I guess all this peace and fresh air and open space must just be hellish for you. Poor thing.”
There was no way he was going to respond to that and insult her again. “I just prefer the activity level. There’s always something to do in the city.”
“You’re just here at the wrong time. We’re coming off high season, so the whole town is a little hungover from the summer. There’s always something happening from April through September because of the tourists. We get some downtime before things pick back up after Thanksgiving and on through New Year’s, and then we’ll rest and recuperate until mid-March when it all starts again. Things may seem a little slow right now, but that’s good. And once you know people, there’s always something to do anyway.” Then she smiled. “And if nothing else, you can do this for a while.” She waved a hand out at the expanse. “Nothing at all.”
“I’m not really the be-one-with-nature type.”
“But you’ve been doing a lot of nothing lately and you seem to be enjoying it.”
“It’s a different kind of nothing. And honestly, I am starting to get a little bored. A four-month vacation sounds great in theory, but there’s only so much TV one man can watch.”
“Then you’ll have to find something to do. Want more suggestions? I’m afraid there will be people involved, though. Not a lot doesn’t involve people around here.”
That was the opening he was looking for, and he wasn’t going to pass it up. “I like food. Are there any good restaurants around here?”
“Oh, definitely. We have to feed all those tourists somehow.”
“What’s your favorite?”
She didn’t even pause. “Miss Marge’s for the basics—and make sure to try her Three Berry Pie—the Frosty Freeze for burgers, and Bodine’s for seafood. It’s pricey, but their crab cakes are divine. Harry’s is great, but they’re only open during the season.” She glanced at the watch on her wrist. It was oddly delicate and feminine for someone like Shelby. “But it’s getting kind of late. Most places are closing by now.”
“No, I’m not hungry now. I was just thinking maybe you could go with me sometime.” Her eyebrows went up. “Eating alone all the time gets old,” he explained.
He thought he saw her mouth twitch, but it was hard to tell. Then she sat there for an inordinately long time—much longer than it should take to respond to a simple question. “It’s just a dinner invitation, Shelby, not a complicated existential postulation.”
She laughed. “That might be a little easier.”
“How?”
“Going out to eat with you . . . People will talk. Especially after the whole flower fiasco.”
“So?”
“I have to decide if it’s worth it.”
That was a statement he hadn’t expected. He had no idea how to respond.
His confusion must have shown on his face because Shelby laughed. “I told you this town runs on gossip. It’s better not to give people things to talk about.”
Another point in favor of the anonymity of the city over a small town. “That’s a bad way to live your life.”
“It keeps us out of trouble, though.”
“Are you saying I’m trouble?”
She gave him an assessing look. It was a little disconcerting, to be honest, but then she smiled. “Probably.”
He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Shelby could move from open and forthright to cryptic and unreadable in a distressingly quick moment. “It’s just a friendly dinner with one of the few people I know in town.”
“Pity.”
He nearly fell out of his chair. Shelby, though, kept her eyes on the horizon as she turned up the bottle for the last drop, making him wonder if he’d misheard her. It was impossible to tell from the look on her face. He turned his eyes to the water, too, and casually said, “Tomorrow. Seven o’clock. I like crab cakes, so that Bodine’s place.”
“It’s a date.” Shelby stood, putting her face in the shadow and making it impossible to tell
what she was thinking. “See you then.”
He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d just agreed to, but he placed his half-empty bottle on the table and stood as well. “See you tomorrow.”
This was surreal, bordering on farcical, but Shelby was already walking away, Cupid on her heels. At the door, she paused and turned. “Good night, Declan.”
“Good night, Shelby.” Then she was inside, leaving him on her porch wondering what the hell had just happened.
* * *
Shelby’s hands were shaking, and she was surprised she’d been able to play it as cool as she had. She was definitely out of her wheelhouse. She heard Declan’s feet on the stairs, and then the opening and closing of the gate at the bottom, meaning she was safely alone now. The bravado that had buoyed her failed right then, and she sank into a chair, all the air coming out of her in a big huff.
Cupid came over to see why and whined as she put her head in Shelby’s lap.
“I’m okay,” she muttered absently as she petted her, but she wasn’t sure she was. She’d spent the last couple of days in high school crush mode, egged on by Charlotte and the fevered imaginations of her own twisted brain.
Hadn’t this been the reason she’d been out there in the first place? After intentionally avoiding him for two days, she’d parked herself on her porch tonight, knowing he couldn’t get back without her seeing him. She hadn’t been fully decided on her course of action at the time, but she’d made the first step.
And now she had a date with Declan. It sent little happy jolts through her bloodstream, but at the same time, it wasn’t like the competition was real tough for her right now. He’d met, what, maybe ten people total, in the time he’d been here? And she’d practically badgered him into “getting out.” She didn’t want to think that she was just convenient, but at the same time, should she really question her luck? The boy was gorgeous, and he’d asked her out to dinner.
The ego boost was flattering no matter how she wanted to temper it, and she was proud of herself for taking the plunge. She’d let Charlotte’s badgering convince her that Declan might think she’d rejected him outright and might not make another move. She should be grateful her little plan had worked.
More Than Anything Page 11
