“Thanks, miss,” he said to Laire, his eyes telling her everything his lips couldn’t.
“Our pleasure, Mr. Rexford,” she said softly, hating the moment he turned around and walked out of the shop.
The little bell tinkled again as the door shut behind him, and she watched him walk the length of the dock, back to his pretty little boat. It was as though her heart stretched from her chest to his, aching with the exercise, longing to go with him, unsatisfied to stay within Laire when, more and more, it belonged to Erik.
“The goddamn governor’s son!” her uncle cried, rapping his knuckles on the countertop. “Your daddy won’t believe it!”
“He was nice,” she said hopefully, turning to look at her uncle.
“Nice. Pshaw.” He screwed up his face at her. “He’s just another rich dingbatter. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less.”
She lifted her chin. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world for him to tell a few folks about those blues if he likes ’em.”
“I figure we do well enough with the hoi polloi,” her uncle shot back, using an old island term for “regular folks.”
Laire shrugged. “I guess we do.”
“Well, Laire,” he said, “I’ll be off now. Got a few deliveries over on Ocracoke. Let me know if the president’s daughter stops in for some mackerel, eh?” he asked, chuckling as he turned and headed for the back room.
She looked up in time to see Erik’s boat zoom away.
Four nights without him.
She hated the very thought.
Reaching into her pocket, she massaged the warm metal of her Elizabethan Gardens pendant, braced her elbows back on the counter, and sighed.
***
Erik had no interest in the soiree at the Governor’s Mansion tonight, but this morning his mother had called from Raleigh and insisted that he and Hillary be there. First Family pictures including handsome Erik and pretty Hillary always got more media attention. Plus, Fancy liked the wholesome image of them all together.
He thought about refusing to go.
Being so far away from Laire wasn’t something he wanted when he treasured every stolen moment with her. But altercations with Fancy never went well—his mother was adept at getting revenge later, and with his lies about Vanessa hovering between them, he didn’t need more trouble. So he’d grudgingly said yes and agreed to drive himself and Hillary back to the city.
It was over four hours from Buxton to Raleigh, which meant he needed to leave by noon at the latest. As he hung up with his mother, he’d been frantic at the notion that after showing up at the Pamlico House every night to see Laire, he’d suddenly be a no-show without any explanation. Remembering that she sometimes worked in her father and uncle’s fish shop gave him the idea of trying to catch her there, and thank God it had worked.
His decision to stay in Raleigh until Sunday was solely based on Laire’s unavailability this weekend. Since she was going to be busy with her sister’s wedding, he figured it was easier to stay away for a few extra days. It would be torture to know she was so close if he wasn’t allowed to see her.
After speaking with her, he sped home from Corey to Buxton, making the drive in a cool forty minutes. But he was so preoccupied reliving their short conversation, including the sweetest declaration his ears had ever heard—I’m falling in love with you too—he didn’t notice Vanessa standing on the dock until he was pulling up alongside.
“Hey, stranger!” she called. “Throw me the line and I’ll cleat you!”
Huh. What’s Van doing here?
“Yeah, um, okay.” Remembering his manners, he waved in greeting. “Hey, Van! What’s up, honey?”
“Your mama called and invited me up to Raleigh with y’all for the weekend,” she said, flashing him a million-dollar smile. “Couldn’t say no to the governor’s wife.”
Fuck.
He sighed, feeling annoyed.
He liked Van as a friend. Truly he did. But his lie had just gotten a whole lot stickier. His mother probably thought she was doing him a favor, but actually she was making his life far more difficult. He didn’t want to spend the weekend with Vanessa and how the hell was he going to be convincing about dating her in front of his mother when the only person he wanted to be with was Laire?
“Oh,” he said. “Great.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Such enthusiasm! I didn’t tell you that you needed a root canal, Erik!”
“Of course not,” he said, forcing a grin. “Glad you’re comin’.”
“Without Pete taggin’ along,” she said quickly. “Just you and me.”
“And me!” chirped Hillary, suddenly appearing on the dock behind Vanessa. “And I call shotgun.”
Erik forced himself not to smile, but damn, he loved his little sister.
“That’s not very gracious,” noted Vanessa, a sour expression puckering her lips as she turned to glare at Hillary.
“She gets carsick,” said Erik.
“Since when?” demanded Vanessa.