2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Beck
I don’t go by Billy anymore, especially to people I don’t know. But I don’t bother to correct the woman because she’s obviously just passing through.
Willow Cove has its share of tourists, though usually, they don’t start descending on our little town until the end of May, which is a few weeks away.
She’s not your typical tourist because she’s dressed in a light blue suit coat and skirt, with one of those blouses with a frilly neckline. The getup she’s wearing is more “I’m purposefully uncomfortable” than the usual beach wear we see around here. And her dark red, shoulder-length hair is too neat for a beach town.
We step up onto the other stretch of boardwalk on the opposite side of the street. Three steps across and our feet sink into sand. But the woman’s wearing high heels.
I point to her feet. “Take ‘em off.”
She snorts. “You always this forward when you first meet someone?”
Forward? “If that someone is trying to wear shoes for a day in the office rather than the beach, then yes.”
She gives an exaggerated blink and grabs my arm so she can remove her shoes. I’m trying not to stare at her legs. She’s petite with strong, shapely calves.
When she’s done, she lets go of my arm. I slip my feet out of my sandals and abandon them near the boardwalk. Even though the sun is low, the sand is still warm under my feet. The beach is nearly empty of crowds—the calm before the storm that is tourist season.
“You’re just gonna...” she trails off, pointing to my sandals.
“They’ll be here when we get back.”
“Oh.”
She doesn’t understand the unwritten rules of Willow Cove beach. It’s a safe space. No one, local or otherwise, would take someone else’s sandals. It’s just not done.
Holding both shoes in one hand, she lets go of my arm and strides forward, the early evening wind picking up her wavy hair. She breathes out a sigh, relaxing for the first time.
“Okay, fine. You’re right. This sunset is pretty good.” She tosses a glance over her shoulder at me and then starts running in the sand.
She’s nearly reached the water, the waves lapping at her feet as she gasps to move out of the way of the foam. Gulls screech overhead as I rush to catch up to her.
“My ocean skills are a little rusty,” she offers, with an apologetic glance.
“Yeah? You don’t live by the beach, do you?”
She shrugs. “What gave it away? My translucent, vampire-white skin or my walking on the sand like I’ve only learned how last week?”
I can’t stifle a laugh. “I can just tell. Look.” I make a beeline for the roped off area I want to show her.
I shouldn’t. Yes, she’s beautiful. But Chloe left only six months ago, and thoughts of her dumping me always seem to grip my lungs in a vise. I can’t imagine dating anyone yet, especially after the whole town has made it their business to fuss over me like I have a terminal illness.
“I’ve been watching these sea turtle eggs for a couple of weeks,” I say as we reach the partitioned-off area in the sand. “It’s just above the high tide line.”
“Eggs? I don’t see any eggs.” She bumps up against my shoulder. “I should have known not to follow a stranger out here.”
“Do you see the sign?” I point to the laminated notice from Wildlife Protection that’s attached to the fence.
She scowls. “Yes, but where are they?”
“They’re hard to see because they’re mostly buried, which is one reason why the Wildlife Protection people have to rope it off, so no one comes plowing through here,” I point to the light blue heels she’s holding in one hand.
“In pumps?” she says, smirking again.
I like her face. The pale, freckled skin you get with red hair. Eyes the color of the blue-green sea.
“Exactly.”
“I think I see them.” She stares at the nest chamber filled with sand-covered white eggs. “There are so many eggs.”
I nod. “Probably about fifty in that chamber alone.”
Her bottom lip drops open with a quiet “Wow.” She turns to me. “So you’re obviously from around here,” she says.
“Born and raised, yes.”
“I heard this place is dead in the winter. Like only a couple thousand people live here year-round. How do you stand that?”
“How do I stand it? It’s glorious.”“Doesn’t sound glorious to me.”
“Cause you haven’t lived it. You’re probably city folk.”
She laughs. “I guess you could say that.” She points to a mound. “So, that’s another nest of eggs under the sand?”
“The momma turtles come to this beach and lay their eggs and then bury them with their back flippers. Enough sand to protect them, but not so much that the turtles can’t dig their way out.”
“Where’s the momma?” She looks startled, like it’s going to come out and snap her leg in two.
Normally, I don’t have much patience for the helplessness of a tourist. But with her, it’s cute. Her clothes and that scream on the diner patio earlier make me think she’s particular.
“Don’t worry. Sea turtles go back to the ocean after laying their eggs.”
Her mouth gapes open. “They abandon their babies before they’re even born?”
“Their babies don’t need them. It’s the way of things.”
She gazes out at the sunset, the vivid orange and pink permeating the sky. “The sky’s showing off again,” she says, and then quieter, “It really is beautiful.”
I tear my gaze away from her and look out at the ocean. It’s quiet out here. Except for a small family down one direction and an older couple with a dog walking away from us on the other side, we’ve got the beach to ourselves.
“When will the eggs hatch?” she asks.
“Not quite yet. Maybe in a few weeks. So, what brings you to Willow Cove?”
The wind picks up her auburn waves and she moves them off her face with her fingers. Her face is resolute as her chin goes up. “A quest to prove myself.”
“Sounds ominous.”
She darts a glance in my direction. “Well, thankfully, I won’t be here long.”
“Thankfully?” I place a hand on my chest. “That hurts my Willow Cove loving heart.”
“Oh, I just meant I have a five-year plan I’ve got to get back to as soon as I can.” She tilts her head to one side, shooting a glance at me. “But your town is lovely. Idyllic.”
“Alright. I can live with that, I guess.” When she doesn’t say more, I continue on. “I’m assuming this five-year plan involves your work. What do you do?”
“I try not to tell people right off the bat what I do for a living. It’s easier that way.” She presses her lips together and darts a glance at me.
“A mystery, huh?”
She starts walking down the beach again, and I join her. “Not mysterious, it’s just that sometimes I need a break from people’s reactions. It’s a need-to-know basis type of deal.”
Maybe it has to do with the fact that my brother, Elliott, just got engaged that has me wanting to keep talking to this woman. Elliott finding Portia means that all my siblings are now attached and that’s a little hard. It’s like I’m losing my oldest friend.
Besides, I have concerns about Elliott and Portia tying the knot. For starters, they haven’t known each other nearly long enough.
I glance back at the woman. “Okay. Well, let’s not talk about work. What do you like to do for fun?”
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Right now, I’m working a lot, so I’m not very caught up on my hobbies.”
“I’m supposed to be working right now, technically.”
“What do you do?” she asks, her hands clasped low in front of her.
“Nope. I’m not telling if you aren’t.”
“Fine.” She shoots me a scowl. “So why aren’t you working if you’re supposed to?”
“I was waiting for some equipment to come in, but it didn’t. And I can’t do my job without it. So, Elliott and I went to get some food.”
“Elliot’s your brother?”
“Younger brother.” Another quick pang to the gut. We’ve always had each other. Always. But eating with him at the diner was the first time in weeks that I’ve seen him outside of work.
“Do you have lots of family here?”
“My whole family’s here. There’s so much extended family, sometimes I forget exactly who I’m related to and how.”
“That’s crazy. I have four cousins, and I remember exactly how I’m related to each of them.” Her laugh is like little bubbles popping to the surface of a soda.
“What about siblings?” I don’t know why I’m talking to this woman like this. Usually, I steer clear of tourists. I’ve learned it’s better to give people who come and go a very wide berth.
“I have two younger brothers.” A smile sneaks across her lips, and she stares down at her manicured toes painted a dark blue. “I’m the typical over-protective, fussing older sister. They love it and pretend to hate it. But trust me. They love it. What about you?”
“I have two older sisters and then Elliott. My parents are in Africa right now with an organization that builds schools. My dad’s overseeing the construction. My oldest sister is the postmaster and just got married. My other sister works at the high school and it’s just a matter of time before she marries the guy she’s been dating for years. And then there’s Elliott.”
“And he’s engaged, which is exciting,” she says in a monotone voice, like she somehow knows I have my reservations about it.
I grunt and stare out over the water.
“Ah. I get it,” she says, lightly pushing against my shoulder. “You’re a little over-protective, huh?”
“No,” I insist. “But he’s only twenty-six.” Annoyance with Elliott flashes in my chest. He’s rushing into this, and I’m concerned.
“So what? He’s in love. Let him live his life.”
“Okay, Brené Brown.”
She wheezes out a huff. “That you would use Brené Brown’s name in a negative light is shocking, sir.”
“Sir?”
“Billy. Is that better? Bill? William? Fitzwilliam?”
At my cringe, she gasps. “I figured it out! Your actual name is Fitzwilliam!”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “What’s your name?”
“Another thing I don’t tell strangers.”
“But I’m not a stranger,” I insist. “Sometime in between that blood-curdling scream and now, I feel like I’ve earned the title of ‘non-stranger.’”
“We’ll see.” She traps her bottom lip between her teeth. “So, tell me more about the wedding.”
“Elliott’s wedding? I couldn’t tell you a single thing. I don’t even know if they’ve picked a date. I’m wondering if he’ll change his mind.”
“You do care about him!”
“I never said I didn’t. I’d just rather not talk about it, that’s all.”
Should I even be out here with this woman? If I’m not careful, the locals might spread the word about that and then all of the sudden, I’ll start getting congratulatory cards in the mail and questions about when I’m going to get engaged again and sentiments that they hope this time sticks.
She turns, her glance flicking over me, a shy smile crossing her features.
I’m caught up in it for a second, in her elixir. The strait-laced clothes, her wavy auburn hair, her fair skin and pink mouth.
I know I should walk away. I should say, “Welcome to Willow Cove” and leave her on her merry way.
So then why can’t I?