by Jenny Hale
“Look at that,” he said, as if he’d seen it a hundred times and it was The Thing to show people whenever he had them aboard.
Callie followed his line of sight out to sea where a pod of dolphins was jumping and swimming together. “Oh! That’s amazing,” she said, her excitement not tempered by his delivery. She sipped her drink for a little while before asking, “Where are we going?”
“Just for a ride.” He smiled, his arm stretched along the seat behind her, his ankle resting on the knee of his other leg, as he slipped on a pair of designer sunglasses. His presence, their surroundings, her fancy dress—it all seemed so surreal. She wondered now more than ever if he’d just been trying to make her comfortable by taking her to that casual burger place yesterday.
She took a nervous sip of her drink. “What have you been up to today?” she asked, trying again to make conversation.
“Buying properties,” he said. “A group of waterfront hotels.”
“A group of them?” Was that an average day for him?
“My father’s had his eye on them for quite some time. I thought it would be a good investment and it would be nice to surprise him.”
How kind, she thought. “What does he want to do with them?”
“Sell them. Eventually.” He said it as if the answer were obvious.
Hiding her tension, she took another sip of her drink, the sweet lime flavor crisp on her lips.
“Mr. Sullivan,” a man said, as he appeared out of nowhere. “Your dinner is ready, sir. Will you be dining on deck or in the dining area?”
“We’ll take it at the table here on deck. Thank you, James,” Luke said. He stood and held out his hand to help her up. The boat was considerably large—enough not to be bumpy—but she had a sensation of tilting slightly as she stood up, and the mojito was hitting, so she was glad for his offer. She took his hand.
On the starboard side of the boat, along another expanse of cream-colored leather benches, was a dark wood table, four chairs on each side. Luke pulled out a seat for her and, again, she noticed how the gesture didn’t seem intentional; it was as if he’d been taught to do it from childhood. It was interesting to see how he behaved in his own environment. It was a far cry from oversized burgers eaten while sitting on sandy barstools. She reminded herself that this was how he lived every day, not that. He went around and sat across from her as a member of staff set a glass of water, cloth napkins, and silverware in front of them.
Callie was served first, and then one of the staff set down Luke’s dish.
His plate held a mass of eggs with a tiny pile of lobster on top. “I’d hate to offer you something that you didn’t like,” he said, clearly noticing her curiosity. “This, by the way, is lobster frittata. Hand me your fork. I’ll let you try a bite.” He smiled at her and she fumbled a little as she picked up her utensil. She handed it over and he scooped some onto it, the caviar sitting precariously on top of the bite.
Callie took it from him, peering down at it first before she even thought about putting it into her mouth. She threw a glance over to her mojito to be sure she had enough left to wash it down if she didn’t like it. She was a picky eater, and it didn’t look appetizing, but, as the old saying went: When in Rome…
“What’s the matter?” he asked with a chuckle. It seemed that her deliberation was amusing him. She’d made him curious again. She remembered that look; he was enjoying this.
“Um… I’m afraid I won’t like it.”
He took off his sunglasses and set them on the table as if he wanted to get a better view of her. He was still smiling, his eyes squinting in an adorable way. He leaned on his forearms. “I’ve never seen anyone look as worried as you did just now,” he said with another huff of amusement. “Try it.” He nodded toward her fork.
Callie took a deep breath and then plunged the fork into her mouth. The caviar popped on her tongue as she chewed, the taste overwhelming her senses, filling up her mouth, and the texture of it against the spongy egg gave her a shiver. She swallowed quickly and took an enormous drink of her mojito, the rum sour against the sweetness of the caviar.
Luke threw his head back and laughed. “This is fun,” he said, his eyes roaming her face.
“Thank you for that taste,” she said, happy to finally see some of his actual personality coming through again. His light-heartedness calmed her a little. “I’ll have my crab cake now.” She stabbed a bite with her fork.
“Want to know something? I’ve never had a crab cake,” he said.
“What?” She held her fork mid-bite, contorting her face into a dramatic look of disbelief. What resident of the Outer Banks hasn’t eaten a crab cake? “I tried yours. You have to try a bite.” She reached out for his fork and scraped a bite across the plate, handing it back to him.
He put it in his mouth and chewed, his eyebrows rising in response. “That’s not bad,” he said with a nod.
“Not bad? It’s only my favorite food of all time.”
He smiled again, his eyes on her.
“So tell me more about The Beachcomber,” he said. “How did you end up in Waves?”
As they ate, she told him a little about how she and Olivia had admired the house over the years and how Gladys had told them the minute it was on the market, but she hadn’t gotten into a whole lot of detail. There was no need, really, for him to become invested in her story because it was clear after seeing all this that Callie wasn’t someone who he could ever get serious about. Her line of vision narrowed on the long bench at the bow of the boat, thinking that it looked a lot like the spot where that bikini model had been in the photo.
“It’s nice, I’m sure, to work for yourself, to create something from the ground up,” he said, picking at the last few bites on his plate. “I still sort of work for my father. Well, it’s my father’s company, but eventually, I’m taking over.” She noticed a slight wobble of uncertainty in his eyes when he said it. It was just subtle enough for her to question whether or not she’d actually seen something, but she swore she had.
“Do you want to take over the company?” she asked, unable to stop herself.
“Yes,” he said a little too quickly.
She stared at him a moment, trying to figure him out.
“What?” he said, his shoulders tensing.
“Nothing.” Her words came out softly, surprising her. She felt bad for rattling him. She hadn’t meant to. But as she watched him, he visibly relaxed, clearly trying to regain his composure.
“You looked at me disbelievingly,” he said much more calmly, and she was taken aback yet again. Most of her relationships had ended because she’d been closed off and her boyfriends always complained that they could never tell what she was thinking.
“I didn’t mean to,” she said, trying to cover up her shock. “How could I disbelieve anything you say when I’ve only just met you?” Perhaps she’d misinterpreted his body language.
He smiled, but there was a little uncertainty behind his eyes and she wondered again if her hunch had been right in the first place. But there was no need to press it. What he did with his life was completely his business.
Just as they’d finished eating, the boat was docking, the motors slowing as they reached land, and he stood up. “Getting you another mojito. I’ll be right back.” Before the captain had completely steadied the large vessel, Luke was at the bar getting two more drinks.
Callie looked around. Sleek, dark wood sailboats bobbed in the water beside them, their vast, white sails tied up, their decks empty. She noticed the very large cottages that dotted the coast. They seemed to stretch as far as she could see, their Caribbean colors making them look like a string of beads, walls of windows overlooking the ocean, and she wondered if the boats belonged to those residents.
As a kid, on the summers when she’d visited the Outer Banks with Olivia and her family, they’d come to Avon, to visit its one-screen movie theater on rainy days. The landscape was much more rural then; it had grown up so much, and
now, while there were still pockets of that simpler lifestyle along the Outer Banks—Waves being one of them—the clientele had certainly changed.
A pang of worry struck her as she hoped that there were still enough people who would embrace more modest accommodations. Restoring The Beachcomber was the biggest risk she’d ever taken in her life, and while she’d never felt freer, she knew that in the end, she had to make a living. There was a part of her that considered going back to the security of a nine to five job, but she recognized her fear and pushed forward whenever the thought crept in.
Luke came back and handed her another mojito. “Want to take a little walk?”
“Sure. Thank you,” she said, standing up with her drink. The captain had lowered the ladder so she could exit easily.
Callie stepped onto the weathered wood of the dock that led to walking paths along the beach, careful to keep hold of her glass as she made her way over to a patch of wildflowers growing in the sandy soil nearby. Luke came up behind her. The sun’s rays were still strong despite the evening hour. She strolled along the dock beside Luke, admiring the gaillardia that lined it. Its blossoms were like bursts of sunshine: The daisy-style petals were burnt orange with yellow tips, making the flowers seem as though they were little blooms of fire against the sand-colored sea oats surrounding them. She resisted picking herself a bouquet, knowing there wasn’t anywhere to put it on the boat.
She turned to Luke. He looked like a poster boy for some sort of beach fashion ad. The shirttail of his nautical button-down was untucked in a casual but perfectly executed way, his sunglasses dangling from his fingers. He grinned at her, the lines from so many days in the sun showing around his eyes.
She reached over and delicately slipped the stem of a gaillardia between her fingers, cupping the bloom in her hand. “Aren’t these beautiful? They’re so vibrant.”
“I’ve never noticed them. Are they weeds?” He bent down to take a look.
“No,” she said. “They’re wild flowers.” She indulged herself and picked one off, threading it through her hair just above her ear.
That curiosity appeared on his face again. “Ah. It looks much prettier now that I get a better look at it.” He flashed a flirty smile, and she thought back to his laughter while they were eating their burgers yesterday, before she’d really understood who he was. Seeing all this tonight had changed her perception.
“Want to walk to the beach over there?” he asked. A sailboat bobbed on the horizon, the waves fizzing up the shore, beckoning her.
“Sure.”
To her surprise, Luke held out his hand to lead her down the few steps to the grassy area winding toward the shore. She took it, feeling the warmth of his grip, the softness of his touch, and the stillness in his fingers. While the gesture was just friendly, it felt so intimate that Callie found herself trying to hold her fingers casually when it would be so easy to intertwine them with his.
“We used to make bonfires on this beach as kids,” he said as they walked. “On any given night there would be at least fifteen teenagers all sitting around a giant fire. After school on Fridays, we’d throw our beach chairs in the back of our trucks and drive over here.”
Callie imagined a flock of privileged teenagers in their polo shirts and pressed shorts, laughing behind their designer sunglasses. “So you’re an old pro at bringing girls here then,” she teased.
“Of course,” he played along. “But now I’ve stepped up my game. I offer mojitos instead of strawberry wine in paper cups.”
“I used to drink strawberry wine too!” she giggled. “We’d sneak it into our friends’ houses. One of them had an older sister who would buy it for us.” She shook her head at the memory. “There was nothing like a bag of Doritos and a paper cup of strawberry wine to get a night going.”
“I might have some Doritos on the boat,” he said, pretending to turn back just as they reached the sand.
She laughed, pulling him toward the beach.
They walked down to where the waves were breaking and sat in the dry sand just close enough to get their feet wet when the tide came in. She slipped her sandals off and set them beside her.
“Yeah… I haven’t been to this beach in a long time,” he admitted.
“Who was the last person you were here with?”
Luke pursed his lips as he sifted through the memories. Then that crooked grin spread across his face. “Sally Johansen. I was eighteen.” He laughed and then turned to Callie. “Sally Johansen is married with six children—all a year apart.”
“Wow.” She let that sink in for a moment. “Just think, that could be you!”
“I want a big family, but I can’t imagine having six children, all that close in age. My God, that would be a lot of work.”
“Yes, it would.”
“It would be fun though,” he said, and she noticed that he’d moved his foot nearer to hers, only a small strip of sand between them.
“To be married to Sally Johansen?”
“No,” he said, with a burst of laughter. “Having a bunch of kids. That would be enough children to start our own beach volleyball team.”
Callie shared in his amusement before they settled into a happy moment of quiet.
“I was an only child,” she said, looking over at him. “I always wanted a sister or brother. It was really lonely sometimes.”
“Mmm.” Luke nodded. “I have a sister and I’m really close with her now, but growing up we were always at each other—I used to chase her around the house trying to tickle her even though I knew she hated it. Why do kids do things like that?”
Callie smiled. “I don’t know,” she said. “But I’ll bet it’s a funny memory now. I wish I had someone to share that kind of thing with. Olivia, my best friend, and I are sort of like that.”
“Did you ever do anything funny to her?”
She looked out at the sea and tried to think of something. “I froze her bra once as a prank. I filled a baggie with water and shoved it in there. It was a block of ice in the morning.”
They both laughed.
Then his eyes met hers. He leaned toward her, and to her horror, she realized by the look on his face that he might try to kiss her or something. The headlines flashing in her mind like an old movie reel, she realized she’d let her guard down. She leaned back, her mojito nearly sloshing out of her glass.
Luke stopped, clearly surprised at her response, but he covered it well. He seemed almost confused, and she wondered if he’d ever had to work for a girl’s affection in his life. She wasn’t going to throw herself at him just because he had a cool boat and a pair of sunglasses that cost more than her rent back in the city. By his expression, he hadn’t meant any harm, and he almost looked a little mortified.
Callie smiled to reassure him, trying to hide the fact that while she was totally annoyed that he thought she might be so easily willing to surrender to his charm, she kind of liked taking him out of his comfort zone.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked, a new interest showing behind his eyes.
“I’m working on the house.”
His gaze dropped down to the sand but he quickly recovered and smiled. She wondered if he thought she was rejecting his possible suggestion to see her again, but she’d only been responding truthfully.
His eyes met hers, his head tilted to the side as he noticeably tried to gain footing in this new territory. “I’d like to help,” he said, to her surprise.
Was he just bluffing, dared by her resistance to his advances? “Olivia and I have it covered, but thank you.” There was no need to waste anyone’s time. She’d already spent far more than she should have aboard this boat, playing his little flirty games. “And we get started very early.”
Clearly ignoring her last suggestion that he couldn’t get himself up and ready in time, he said, “I’m serious.”
She smiled kindly so as not to upset him—he’d done nothing wrong. But she said, “So am I,” her words direct and clear.
<
br /> “We’d better get back to the boat,” he said, looking over Callie’s shoulder. “Looks like a photographer.” Luke stood up and turned away from a man with a large camera, wearing trousers and a two-button shirt—clearly not an outfit for swimming. Was it always like this for Luke—being hounded in his private moments?
Seven
“He said what?” Olivia asked as she climbed down from the ladder in the center of the room. She’d been up early this morning, having already been in bed when Callie got home.
Callie looked up at the glass-beaded sand dollar chandelier they’d found at a shop in Manteo on their way into town. They’d had an electrician install it yesterday, and Olivia had been cleaning the fingerprints off the glass. She’d said she had waited until Callie got home because she didn’t want to climb the tall ladder without someone to keep it steady, since she had to step on the top rung to reach the fixture. The chandelier shimmered as it illuminated the bedroom and Callie could just imagine the white gauzy fabrics and the sand-colored accents that would complement its light green color.
“I think some sea-green throw pillows would look good in here once we get the bedding in. Maybe have a wicker chair in the corner… Yeah, Luke asked to come over and help us with renovations.”
“That’s what I thought you said.” Olivia had her hands on her hips, a wide-eyed look on her face. “How are we supposed to look hot and desirable when we’re all sweaty and covered in dust and paint?”
“I don’t care how I look in front of him. I told him no anyway, though,” Callie said, nearly rolling her eyes. She proceeded to tell Olivia about the possible kiss debacle. The more she’d thought about it, the more she’d convinced herself that he’d thought she was just like all those other girls who probably threw themselves at him. Well, she wasn’t.
Olivia pressed her lips together as if she were trying to hold in some thought.
“What? Just say it.”
“Luke Sullivan tried to kiss you and you didn’t kiss him? Are you crazy?” She took Callie by the shoulders and shook her playfully. “That’s worth investigating just to see what all those models and actresses are after when they date him. I’m so disappointed in you.”