About That Kiss. Cindy Miles
“Willa, you say? Never heard that before. Well. At least all your good sense hasn’t left you fully yet, boy. There’s hope yet. I’ll see you tonight.”
Nathan watched his grandfather disappear into the house, and he shook his head. “Yep. Least I still have my good sense. The good sense to keep to myself.”
Before Nathan had any more time to ponder on Jep’s words, his father called out. “Nathan? You ready?”
“Yes, sir,” Nathan replied, and jogged around back and down to the dock, where his father waited to sail out for a late-day cast. Nathan leaped onto the Tiger Lily’s deck, then his father steered up the river at a slow chug. With such agreeable currents, the shrimp would be running, and Nathan hoped they’d cast a good second haul for the day.
They soon slowly passed Sean and Willa on their dock, dining alfresco as planned. Willa jumped to her feet and started waving.
“Hey, Captain Nathan!” she yelled in that little-kid voice. She had on her fairy wings, and so did her mama. Every time the little girl jumped, the wings flapped as though she would take off flying.
With the late-afternoon sun pressing against his skin, Nathan found it hard not to smile at Willa’s enthusiasm. He waved back. “Hey, Willa!”
Owen waved, too.
Sean, on the other hand, busied herself with something on the bright pink blanket spread over the dock. She kept that dark head down, her long, slender legs still showcasing the same faded cutoffs she’d been wearing earlier. The same white tank exposed skin unused to the sun. Unlike Willa’s pink wings, Sean wore white ones that sparkled when the sun caught them just right. It made Nathan wonder about the reserved woman. Fairy wings seemed completely at odds with the serious, aloof side he’d witnessed. A thought caught him off guard. Something kinda sweet about a mother who’d wear wings to indulge her little girl.
As Nathan turned his gaze away, they eased out of the river and into the sound. He kept his eyes trained on the horizon. His thoughts, though, strayed back to Sean. Again, he wondered if there was something about him in particular that made her keep her distance. She was reserved and definitely not encouraging toward him. Twice, she’d actually shown what he perceived to be panic at his presence. Did he make her nervous? Or, was there actually a man in the picture? Hell, that could be it. How many off-islanders had come to Cassabaw for the summer, only to be joined by their significant other at a later date? Loads.
And now he was not only being ridiculous for thinking about it, but he was spending too much time turning scenarios over in his head. Wasn’t his business. Quickly, he pushed it from his brain. Wasn’t his problem. He didn’t care.
Couldn’t care.
Not now. Not ever again.
THERE WAS A certain stillness to the early morning that Sean rather liked. Before the sun rose, when the world was still quiet, or before the clouds began shifting from ominous gray and white to shades of orange and purple as they did when the sun tried to push its way through. A new day. For a long, long time, Sean believed hope came with each new day. She wished she believed it now.
This morning, Willa still slept; Sean had awakened long ago, when the chug of a boat heading downriver had drifted through her partially opened bedroom window. It was strangely peaceful, that lonesome noise. Ghostly, in a way. As if she floated in some dream world. A place where, maybe, she’d always existed and danger didn’t. It even felt somewhat safe. Normal. Rather, what she perceived normal to be. Family. Neighborly neighbors hand-delivering scrumptious cheddar biscuits.
And maybe it was safe. Normal. Slightly. Perhaps.
Not that she’d let her guard down for one solid second.
The captain of the Tiger Lily probably saw her as a grade-A nut job. Or at the very least, a snob. She’d purposely kept her head down last night as Nathan and his father had passed by on the river. Part of that was because her daughter had convinced her that the dolphins would be friendlier if they thought the two of them were fairies instead of regular people, so Sean had once again donned a pair of wings, too.
Willa, of course, had made a big production of calling out to Captain Nathan. Sean had allowed it. But she wouldn’t fall into the habit of becoming too friendly with the green-eyed shrimp boat sailor. Having as little contact as possible made the transition of leaving a little easier. It wasn’t easy, though, because of Willa’s exuberance and propensity to talk to everyone she encountered. Getting to know people meant those very people would want to know more about Sean and Willa. That was where things got tricky for Sean. Parts of her life simply defied explanation, and yet she loathed lying. And the older Willa became, the more observant she was—which made it more challenging for Sean to tell people something about her and Willa that wasn’t precisely accurate. Truly, it was much, much easier to avoid interactions with locals altogether.
Yet, even the very innocent interactions with Nathan Malone had made Sean pause. Already, the sound of his trawler made her heart quicken. She imagined him at the wheel, those steely hands gripping it with ease and confidence. A sure stare out over the sea, unafraid. Fearless.
More intimate thoughts invaded her, somewhat unwillingly. The way she felt heat rise to her cheeks at his voice, or the very thought of that intense, curious stare. She admitted only to herself that he affected her. She tried to banish that unwanted feeling. It’d do no good to confess. To him or anybody. She and Willa would be gone at the close of summer.
She couldn’t help where her thoughts wandered, though. And after Willa went to bed, or in the early mornings when Sean was alone, she pondered it. Thought about...before. Before they had to run. Before they had to hide. When she had simply been...herself. What she had looked like. Who she’d been. She sought her brain’s memory vault; dug through events, pictures, until she’d found a few. Long blond hair. Hazel eyes that most folks said smiled all on their own. It seemed surreal now, that time in her life. Before Houston. Like a dream that had occurred—the events never truly had happened. Yet, they had. And it seemed that years separated that Sean from the Sean she was now.
So back to the question—whom did Nathan see? She most definitely wasn’t a snob. And, for pride’s sake, she hoped she didn’t seem like a nut job. In all truth, she couldn’t be sure what she was anymore. She’d been running for so long; somewhere along the back roads, mom-and-pop diners and one-horse towns between Kansas and Tennessee, up to Boston and down to South Carolina, she’d lost herself. She knew it.
And couldn’t do a single thing about it.
Sean sat on the back porch steps facing the dock and river, with acres of marsh on each side. It moved like wheat, she thought, when a breeze caught it just right, and the willowy little stalks all shifted and swayed in sync with the cicadas and crickets’ song. Salt infiltrated her lungs with each breath; in this short time she’d grown to actually like the tangy taste it left on her tongue. She took a sip of the coffee while her mind continued to be rebellious...
Those stormy green eyes belonging to Nathan Malone kept intruding. She’d tried not to notice, but he’d trapped her with that curious gaze more than once. It’d been unavoidable.
And the easy, amused smile he had for Willa? Sean had noticed that, too. The look he’d given Willa had come fast, easy. Natural. Sean couldn’t help but find Nathan’s indulgence in Willa’s buoyancy and constant inquisitiveness more than charming. Almost...bewitching. He’d taken to Willa almost immediately, and she with him.
But the look Nathan had for Sean herself? That was somewhat guarded. Curious. Wary.
She’d also noticed how the sun had turned his hair so many shades of blond, and that even the darker colors were lightened by hours of being on the sea. His skin had bronzed—so different from her own pale skin and dark hair. The sun felt good, though. Perhaps she’d end up with a little tan after all.
“Mama?”
Sean