Eversea: a love story

Wow, he was really getting comfortable trusting people.

Mrs. Weaton patted his shoulder, and I noticed his nonplussed expression.

She grabbed me for a quick squeeze, enveloping me in a waft of lavender and cinnamon. “See you tomorrow at book club. I’ll bring lemon squares.” She pulled back and held me at arm’s length, a big grin on her friendly, lined face. Then pulling me in for another quick hug, she whispered, “Nana works in mysterious ways.” And with that she shuffled out to the hall.

I turned back to Jack whose jaw was slack.

“Oh my God, she knows who I am. Did you tell her?”

“No. I thought you must have. I haven’t spoken to her since I told her about the roofers. What were you talking about then, if you weren’t filling her in on star gossip?”

“You. Funny childhood stories about you.”

“Oh.” How horrifying. “Like what?”

He grinned and winked. “Well, I quite like knowing something about you that you don’t know I know. It’s a novel feeling for me to be on the other side of that.”

“Okaaaay.” I decided to let that go. For now. “Anymore of that coffee?”

“Sure.” He looked me up and down as he stood and walked round to the coffee maker. It was amazing how comfortable he looked in my house. “Where’ve you been?”

I was instantly selfconscious of my barely-there Lycra athletic shorts and tank. “Uh, kayaking.”

“Did you manage not to side swipe any bikers on your way home?” He handed me a cup of coffee with cream.

Selfconscious turned into unbelievably embarrassed at his mention of our near miss. I was kind of hoping he hadn’t put the whole thing together. “Um ... ” I managed, flustered.

He winked. “Kidding. So was it fun?”

I exhaled and tried to smile. “Yeah. It wasn’t long though, I ended up chatting with Joey and also Jazz came and found me.” I realized I should tell him sooner rather than later. “Mrs. Weaton isn’t the only Butler Cove resident who knows of your existence, I told Joey and Jazz,” I admitted, wincing.

He stilled in the act of pouring himself another cup. Then he put it down and braced his forearms against the counter, his back to me and his head hanging down. The action brought his shoulder blades into sharp focus beneath the same dark green tee he’d been wearing last night.

He sighed. “Then it’s just a matter of time isn’t it?” He went back to pouring his coffee.

“Until what?”

“Until someone calls in the story for a small fortune.”

“They wouldn’t do that.”

“People will do anything for money, Keri Ann.” He turned to me with an expression that said I should have known better.

“These people won’t.”

“Why don’t you do it?” he asked, pushing off the counter and coming toward me.

“Do what?”

“Call it in. You could renovate this kitchen with the money. Heck, probably the whole house.” He raised his eyebrows.

“I wouldn’t ever do that!” I was outraged. How could he say he trusted me one day, although I’d obviously broken that trust by telling two, no, make that three people, including Hector, and then ask me if I’d sell him out the next?

He stopped in front of me but looked into the distance. “I know you wouldn’t.”

“How?” I asked.

“How do I know you wouldn’t sell me out?”

“Yeah. Especially since I admitted to outing you to two people just this morning.”

He lifted a hand and ran it through his unruly hair. It caused my eyes to drop to his broad chest. “Well, here’s the thing, it seems to me you have a lot of people around here who care very deeply for you, and I doubt they would jeopardize you by selling me out, so I guess that makes me lucky to know you.”

I shrugged, warmed by his observation, and took a sip of coffee to cover my nerves at his nearness. I was relieved neither of us felt we had to mention our awkward almost kiss the night before. We could just move on as friends, as if the moment never occurred. As if just remembering my tongue touching his thumb by accident, and the sound he made when it happened, didn’t have my insides flipping over again. But sure, if he could forget so could I.

Yeah, right.

“Do you need to stay at the house today?” he asked.

I looked around. The walls were bare and washed and ready for paint. The floors needed to be sanded, cleaned, and stained, but that would require renting equipment, and I needed funds for that. The roofers would be busy all day, and I didn’t have to work until tomorrow. But there were always things I could be doing like cleaning, finishing the front porch, picking a paint color, working on some of my sea-glass and driftwood projects.

“I guess not, but—”

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