12. Nova
“Why does everyone think he’s so great?” I grumble to myself under my breath.
It’s not like he’s the nicest man on the planet. His dick isn’t made of gold.
Okay, I don’t know that for sure, but I’d be willing to bet money on it.
Katelyn pauses, looking first at me, then following my line of sight across the street to where Reid is talking with Sophie, Tara, and Manto.
The perfect little double date.
Jesus, even I think I sound bitter.
Katelyn laughs, shaking her head as she continues setting up her table. I stopped by her booth to help her get everything set up for the day with the quilts her grandmother made for the festival. I even threw in some of my paintings because I’m running out of room, though I made her swear she wouldn’t tell a soul who painted them.
Across the street, Sophie laughs at something, while I resist the urge to gag because I know she’s just exaggerating it because Reid is right there. I haven’t spoken to him since our sweet crab not-date. That was two days ago, and it feels like it’s been a lifetime. Both of us dancing around each other. Neither of us speaking about that day on the beach.
Like he knows I’m watching him, his gaze flicks up and he winks, nearly stopping my heart, right there on Main Street.
Asshole.
I look away before he sends me into cardiac arrest, my cheeks flaming so hot, I’m not sure if I’m embarrassed or if the sun overhead is beaming me up like a UFO kidnapping a cow.
I know I’m being irrational. I have no hold over him. I can’t claim him. All we’ve shared is one night of over-the-clothes sex and a few stolen kisses that were anything but sweet and innocent. Or platonic.
But still.
“You know,” Katelyn starts, interrupting my silent damnation for Sophie and her shiny-ass perfect blonde hair. “You could always . . . try.”
I shoot her a look and she holds up her hands in self-defense.
“Don’t hurt me. I’m just saying. You’ve been staring at him and huffing since you got here. Really killing the mood.”
“I have not,” I argue. I totally have, but I refuse to admit that.
“Please,” Katelyn rolls her eyes, chuckling under her breath. “If you had lasers for eyes, Sophie would have two holes in the back of her head.”
“Why would I care?” I quip. “He’s an asshole. She can have him.”
That actually makes her snort.
Honestly . . . rude.
“He’s a hot asshole. And you just don’t want to admit you like him as much as he likes you.”
That’s where she’s wrong. “He doesn’t like me.”
And if I just wanted to scare you off?
“That man watches you like—” she pauses, as if she doesn’t want to finish the sentence.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re his. Like he’s yours. You two . . .” She shakes her head. “There’s something there and even if it’s a summer fling, I think you should do something.”
I think about it for a moment. Just how good it would feel to finally just lay next to someone. Feel them. Not have to worry about the ghosts in my closet coming to drag me down to the personal hell that waits for me at the bottom of the ocean.
For a brief moment, the feeling is nice. Heavenly.
Then the shame sets in.
It never disappoints.
“You know I can’t.”
Katelyn shoots me a look, practically throwing down the quilt she’s holding and marching over to me. She takes me by the shoulders, forcing me to look at her and I have to admit, she’s kind of terrifying like this.
“Nova. You are hot. You’ve got great tits and a good ass and you deserve to be railed six ways to Sunday by whatever guy you want. Well, not the taken ones, but you know what I mean.”
When I don’t respond, she releases me, shaking her head and stalking back to her stack of quilts where people are starting to take notice.
“You’re right,” I call after her.
It tastes like battery acid.
Katelyn pauses, staring at me wide-eyed.
“Did you just admit that you deserve happiness? Are you the Nova Leigh Fischer?”
“Keep it up,” I grumble and she chuckles. “It would be stupid to try something with Reid.”
“Maybe not,” Katelyn offers. “He’s leaving in a couple weeks. That gives you time to get used to the dating game before you jump in, full force.”
“I don’t think I’m cut out for the dating game.”
“Bull. Have you seen yourself? You’re the prettiest person on this island.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better about little miss sunshine, over there.”
“How long are you going to hate her?” Katelyn asks quietly.
I pause, thinking over the list of reasons why Sophie and I have never really gotten along. It’s not her fault . . . but it is, at the same time. If she wasn’t around, maybe things would have been different.
“I don’t hate her,” I murmur, grabbing my gloves. I’m expected to help at the community garden in ten minutes. “I just don’t like her.”
“Touché,” Katelyn laughs as I walk off. “Try not to out-pick Judy!”
I start back down Main Street, wading through the crowds of tourists and locals in town for the festival, toward the inn where the garden is planted across the street. Just like most days out of the year, the inn is the centerfold for Founder’s Day, so everything is alive and bustling around the building.
It’s been a busy day. I woke up at six this morning to come help prep the inn for tonight’s celebration, where Mayor Copley will give the same boring speech he did last year about what a great community we have. There will be food, dancing, sweet crabs for all, and I have a sneaking suspicion it’ll last until way too late in the evening.
I’m already tired. Am I getting old?
I’m halfway to the garden when a familiar scent of sea water, leather, and that foresty smell of the man I can’t date wash over me like the great wave of Kanagawa.
Great.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
God? Me again. If you’re there, can you please throw me off the nearest cliff?
“No, I haven’t.” I wince internally at my own tone, attempting to cover it up with a smile in Reid’s direction, but it doesn’t go unnoticed. Something dark flashes in his eyes, like he’s pissed that I would dare smile at him.
I forgot. Mr. Morrison doesn’t do polite conversation.
“Don’t give me the fake smile. I can see right through that shit.”
Okay, rude.
“Did you know barnacles will fornicate with no regard as to who it is. In barnacle world, obviously?”
He narrows his eyes, confused, but as if he understands, a smirk forms on his face. I don’t like that smirk. It’s devilish. Too handsome to be normal.
He’s never looked at me like this before. Like he doesn’t hate the very ground I walk on. Instead, he looks at me like I’m a toy—something for him to play with.
My emotions certainly feel like it, but maybe that’s just because my damned libido can’t stop coming up with the nastiest fantasies. All. Centered. Around. Him.
“Little bird, are you jealous?”
“Why would I be jealous?”
Shit.
“I don’t know,” Reid shrugs. “Why would you?”
Because my half-sister should know better. Because she did it with Jack and now, she’s doing it with you, too.
Because she exists.
“Do you need something, or did you just come to spread your black confetti and rain clouds in the town square? Because if so, I’m not helping you.” Just for good measure, “and no, I’m not jealous. I don’t care who or what you do, so long as you don’t hurt any of my friends. And don’t stain my sheets.”
He slides closer. So close, in fact, that his arm brushes against mine. I attempt to step away from him as the heat from his skin bleeds into mine, traveling straight down to the very center of what is causing my discomfort right now, but . . . he steps closer again.
Asshole.
The truth is, I liked his touch. I liked his hands on my skin. Rough and demanding. I liked kissing him. I like the way he growls my name or calls me little bird, even though I have no idea what it means.
He’s everything I should actively run as far away from as possible. He’s also the very thing that fills every one of my fantasies.
“And Sophie?” he taunts, raising a brow to challenge me. “What about her?”
I grit my teeth, forcing the hostility back before it shows all over my face. “You should totally sleep with Sophie. That is . . . if you don’t mind sharing with the rest of the town.”
I know I’m being petty, but what’s life without a little toxicity? Every single person I’ve ever met has been toxic, at least once in their life. That’s what being human is. Doing things and being judged for them later.
No one said it was easy.
And no one said it was fair, either.
“Nova Fischer, I never pegged you to be catty.”
I shrug. Normally, I’m not. Today, I’m just pissed off because Sophie can have what I want while I force myself to stay hidden because it’s easier than facing the guilt back home.
“It’s not catty if it’s the truth.” It totally is.
His eyes narrow and the smirk and amusement in his eyes disappears. I can see he’s disappointed in me, but right now, I’m too far gone to care. If I want to be petty, I will, dammit.
“Maybe I will,” he murmurs and I look away from him.
He’s trying to get a rise out of me.
“What could it hurt?”
Me.
“If you don’t mind, I have blueberries to pick.”
I storm away from him, angrily taking my bucket from Tara before he can say another word. I don’t miss the dry, unamused chuckle as I leave, though, and it makes me want to throw the bucket at Reid’s head instead.
“A little birdy told me Sophie asked Reid out,” Tara says, her voice aloof and her gaze full of amusement. “And then he turned her down.”
I watch Reid take up with the men, helping to fix the old stage for tonight’s festivities. When he lifts something, the strong lines of his back flex in his t-shirt and I swear, in that moment, I realize what all the fuss is about when it comes to back muscles.
The stitches in my hand burn when I pick the first blueberry, accidentally crushing it between my fingers.
Tara chuckles when Sophie joins us in picking this year’s harvest and I shoot her a look.
“Shut up.”
“Nova,” Judy Copley, wife of the mayor and who I like to call the keeper of secrets in Port Nova, joins me while I’m picking blueberries. Her bucket is barely half full, whereas mine is about to spill over.
Figures.
“It’s a good turn out this year, isn’t it?” she asks, waving to all the families crowding the streets. “I know this is your first time hosting at the inn, but it hasn’t been this busy since Bob was just the treasurer.”
“That’s a good thing,” I say, rolling a blueberry in my fingers. “People are starting families here now.”
“Yes,” she nods. “I keep hoping Robby will take the lead and find a nice girl, but . . . “
Here we go again.
“I’m sure he will. Just give him time.”
She grimaces, scrunching up her nose in disdain.
“I’m not getting any younger. I need grandbabies to spoil.”
“You aren’t old enough to be a grandma.”
“Oh, pish posh.” Her face lights up like she just had the brightest idea. “You and Robby were always close as kids—”
“Not happening, Judy.”
“Fine,” she grumbles. “But there was a reason I came over here. I saw your paintings over at Katelyn’s booth—Bob bought one of a sunken ship to put behind his desk—and I was wondering how you would feel about holding an art class for the local kids the rest of the summer. It would be two days a week.”
Freaking Katelyn. I knew she’d rat me out.
“An art class?”
“Yes,” she beams, like it’s the greatest idea on the planet. “You used to be a teacher. You could do it twice a week, up at the school. It would give parents time to get their errands done and it would give the kids something fun to do during the summer.
“Judy, I’m not sure any of the kids here would want to participate in that.”
“Nonsense. I’m sure they would. Besides, you never know how something will go until you do it, right?”
Looking over her shoulder, I see Reid watching me and I pause. I’m still annoyed with him, but after a couple seconds when he looks away, I can feel myself softening for him, wanting his attention. His touch.
I’m just as bad as Sophie.
Bad idea, Nova. Really bad idea.
“What about supplies?” I ask, turning back to Judy, my cheeks burning hot. “I can’t afford to pay for those.”
“We have those and what we don’t have, we can get. I’ll even pay you.”
“You’ll pay me?” Port Nova is just a small fishing town. We aren’t known for our money around here.
“Yes, well, the art teacher at the school passed earlier this year, God rest her soul, and the kids haven’t had anything remotely creative all year.”
I bite my lip, struggling. I got out of teaching because it wasn’t what I wanted. I love kids, but the parents . . . the parents were awful. Not to mention, after the accident, things just got . . . harder.
But . . . if they need me . . .
“Fine.”
“Wait, you’ll do it?”
“I guess,” I shrug. “But you have to get all the kids together. I don’t have time.”
“Consider it done,” she beams, clapping her hands together. “Here.”
She shoves her bucket into my arms and runs off.
“Judy!” I call and she just spins and waves.