The Siren of Ramshackle Bay

Chapter 1

Jillian

Bright sunshine sparkled on the surf and sand as I spread out our picnic blanket.

Perfect weather, a packed feast, the whole day with my husband, and the beach only a few steps from our little blue house and coffee shop?

What could be better?

Cucumber and watercress sandwiches, turkey salad, BBQ chicken legs, fresh slices of watermelon and lemon cake.

I set it all out and smiled as I heard Frankie’s voice.

“Mine!”

He dove for the volleyball, sending a huge cloud of pure white sand up in the air, and I had to laugh as he popped up with a huge grin on his face, his tanned chest covered in sand, shaking it out of his shaggy blonde hair.

Frankie was always gregarious and outgoing, and it didn’t take much to entice him into a volleyball game with a bunch of random tourists.

His energy was so warm and magnetic, and my husband had never met a stranger in his life. The way he high-fived and chatted with everyone, you’d think they’d all be been best friends for years.

In fact, Christabelle had been one of his best friends for years.

So when she happened to be in town for a few weeks, of course they ended up doing a lot of things together.

That’s all this was.

Christabelle grunted as she served the ball, rising high on her toes as she smacked it with a hearty whack.

She was about our age of 30, with long golden blonde beachy waves and a perfect hourglass figure.

Her body was very athletic, her swimsuit a pink so pale it was almost translucent, the outline of her big round nipples visibly pressing against the thin fabric.

Her bikini bottoms hugged her figure, the cut so high in the back that every movement made her perky cheeks wiggle like two bouncy boba balls.

Frankie dove into the sand to get her serve, the soft pillowy milky-white sand flying up as the ball bounced high into the air.

He came up laughing, the sand all stuck to the defined pectorals on his sticky wet chest.

“You’re too good!” she squealed.

A breeze blew by and I tucked a corner of my skirt under my legs.

I felt sticky and overheated.

The turkey salad couldn’t get too warm. . .

They took a break and Frankie went over to fill up his water bottle, Christabelle following.

I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they were laughing about something, Frankie throwing back his head so I could see the strong lines of his throat and chest.

There was still sand stuck to him, the sun glistening off the sweat on his lean, strong body.

She wiped her brow and he seemed to hold his water bottle out to her, like he was offering it.

I felt my palms sweat, as Christabelle put her lips right where his had been and took a long swallow.

Don’t overreact, I told myself.

Frankie was just an atrocious flirt. That’s all this was. He’d never given even the slightest hint of being unfaithful to me.

And women couldn’t help flirting with him, because he was so charming.

I took an abandoned cup and began to idly build a little sandcastle by my feet as I waited for him to join our picnic. There was a sandcastle building competition every year at Ramshackle Bay, but I was always too busy as the mayor’s wife to be able to compete.

When was this game going to be over?

At least she would be leaving soon. She was only a tourist. I could make it a few more days.

God, I hated that my jealousy was tainting this perfect day. So there was someone in town he’d gone on a few dates with in college? So what. After all, I had an ex in town, too. It was fine. This was fine. Nothing to worry about.

Finally, the game ended and Frankie came up to me, shaking the sweat from his hair, his board shorts hanging low off his flat belly.

“Hi, baby! Guess what? Christabelle loves it here so much she’s thinking of looking for a place and a job in town? I told her we were thinking of hiring for Perk Up & Read.”

He bent down and grabbed a chicken leg.

“Oh, look! Sweet. Here, take one.”

I stifled my surprise as Frankie handed Christabelle the biggest chicken leg.

“But we haven’t even put up an ad yet,” I protested.

“Ah, baby, we don’t need that. We run the business, we can choose who we hire. Christabelle is very friendly & I think she’ll be perfect with our customers.”

She smiled sweetly at this praise, sitting down right on our picnic blanket, scattering sand everywhere and grabbing one of the turkey salad sandwiches I’d made that morning.

“I just love your cute little coffee shop!” she enthused. “I love that it’s part coffee shop and part bookstore! I love reading!”

“All right,” I said slowly, as Frankie plopped down beside us.

I guess this was going to be a three-person romantic picnic?

“But can I see a resume—? Or maybe you could tell us your job experience—?”

My husband waved all these objections aside.

“That’s all just red tape, Jillian. You know we run the Perk Up & Read exactly how we like! And I know you can train anyone to do anything.”

He gleamed at me, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek, and I felt myself melting into his charm like I always did.

“Oh my god, try a bite!” Christabelle squealed, digging her spoon into the middle of my lemon cake. “It’s sooo good!”

I drove down my unease and worry.

He was my husband.

We were very happy together.

And we did need help at the cafe. . .

“All right,” I said. “Let’s do a two week trial and see how it goes.”