Chapter 9
Ethan
The sun is just starting to rise as I arrive at the beach below the lighthouse, the first rays lighting up the oil-streaked sand. We’ve been here all week, and it’s fast becoming the new normal. I try to get here before everyone else to set up, which is fine—I normally wake up early, and I’ve already had a pre-dawn workout at home.
Bandit runs ahead, his tail wagging furiously, darting around despite the early hour. He’s the goodest good boy, able to sit and chill when he needs to, but he still likes to have a run around, even though his muzzle is going gray and he’s slowing down. He knows to stay away from the oil, but I watch him for a few minutes just to make sure he’s being safe.
I take a moment to look around. The sight of the once-pristine beach covered in oil tightens something in my chest. There’s still so much to do.
“Come on, Bandit.” He trots back to me, his tongue lolling out in a happy pant. I ruffle his fur, a bit of his infectious enthusiasm seeping into me. “We’ve got two goals today, buddy. First, we’re going to get as much of this cleaned up as possible. And second, we’re going to get Blake to have dinner with us tonight.”
Bandit tilts his head as if he understands.
“Yeah, I know. I’ve got my work cut out for me on both fronts.”
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Blake, replaying that scene at the bar. Except I don’t stop myself in my fantasy version of events, instead lifting her onto the bar, spreading those perfect legs wide and thrusting into her until she comes undone, screaming my name.
But Blake seems determined to pretend it didn’t happen at all, despite my not so subtle flirting, so we’ve just been working side-by-side all week, even though it’s driving me crazy being so close to her.
Bandit barks at a seagull, pulling me back to reality, and I give him a final pat before grabbing the equipment from the back of my pickup. “Alright, let’s get to it. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.”
I set up the cleanup station like I’ve done every morning since we started, organizing equipment and going through the tasks for the day. We can’t leave expensive equipment and supplies out overnight. Even in a small town like ours, strangers with light fingers might help themselves to our tools.
Once it’s done, I take a few moments to plan how we can be more efficient and get this done as soon as possible. Mine and Liam’s business has taken a huge hit already. Canceling charters, disappointing clients—it’s a lot to juggle. But today, my focus is here.
As I work, Bandit stays close, occasionally darting off to investigate a seagull or sniff at a piece of driftwood. I glance up at the lighthouse against the blue of the sky, just as the volunteers start to arrive, bringing with them a surge of energy to the quiet morning.
Tom Harrison arrives first. He’s carrying boxes of freshly baked goods from Sweet Current Bakery, the scent of warm bread and pastries wafting in the air.
“Morning, Ethan!” He sets the boxes down and runs a hand through his close cropped afro. “Figured everyone could use a little pick-me-up. It’s been a long week.”
I nod appreciatively. “Thanks, Tom. Great idea. I think people are starting to get tired, already. And this is going to take a while, yet.”
Next comes Carlos Ramirez and his brother, lugging a hefty load of supplies from their hardware store. They’re both solid guys, with builds that look like they were made for heavy lifting.
“Got some extra gloves, masks, and a few tools, like you asked,” Carlos says, dropping the supplies with a grunt and grabbing a sweet bun.
“Thanks, fella.” We’re going through gloves and masks faster than I expected.
Joy Parker arrives next, her seven-seater station wagon full of other volunteers, her vibrant auburn hair catching the morning light. Joy is young, from a wealthy family, and owns a boutique in town. Even in her cleanup gear, she looks stylish.
“Hey, everyone!” Her voice is bright and cheerful, and Tom shares out the baked goods while the remaining volunteers trickle in.
And then Blake shows up, making her way across the sand with confident strides, carrying two huge thermoses. Seeing her every morning on the beach, even given the circumstances, is fast becoming the best part of my day. She looks so beautiful, even in her work clothes—jeans, a fitted T-shirt, and a bandana holding back her red hair. The sight of her makes my heart race.
“Morning, Blake.” Trying to keep my tone casual, no doubt failing.
“Morning, everyone.” She takes a croissant and tears off a piece for Bandit. “I brought coffee. Grab a cup and let’s save our beautiful coastline!”
“Glad you’re here,” Tom calls out, blowing her a kiss. “Did you walk all this way with the thermoses?”
“I sure did. And it wasn’t far.” She flashes a grin. “Can’t wait to get started!”
Her positive energy is contagious, and it’s exactly what we need right now. I think most of the volunteers assumed we’d have made a bigger dent in the clean up effort by now, and enthusiasm has been waning.
“All right everyone.” I clap my hands a couple of times until they’re all staring at me. “Time to get going.”
I give them all their tasks for the day, and soon my group is hard at work. We’re like a well-oiled machine by now, and the rhythmic sound of shovels scraping against oily sand fills the air, mingling with the pungent scent of crude oil and the distant crash of waves against the shore.
Hunched over in bright reflective vests, they meticulously scoop up blackened clumps of sand, their figures outlined against the early morning sun, while seagulls cry overhead, some with feathers slicked with oil.
As the morning progresses, I move through the beach, checking on each volunteer and their work. “Hey, Tom, those booms need to be tighter.”
He drags a sleeve across his face. “Sure thing.”
“And Carlos, we need more absorbent pads over here.”
I continue to give pointers, my eyes scanning every detail. The beach is dotted with orange cones and stations for cleaning affected animals, everyone hard at work, and we continue on for a few more hours until I declare a break.
Tom shares the rest of the pastries, and I grab a chocolate tart and a bottle of water, heading straight for Blake where she’s standing on the beach, facing the sea, hands palming her hips. I ignore Tom’s sniggering—I’m being obvious, but I don’t even care anymore.
She’s wearing a pensive expression as she looks out at the water, and I watch from a few feet away. Pretty doesn’t even begin to describe how gorgeous she is. There’s a grace to her movements, a fire in her eyes. Her beauty, her body, is like a song that plays on repeat, a melody that’s both soothing and electrifying. The way her hair catches the light, the curve of her smile, the lines of her nose and high cheekbones.
She’s strong, a force of nature, a blend of strength and vulnerability that pulls me in. And I’m in deep already, not wanting it any other way. She said she doesn’t want a relationship, but the attraction between us, the chemistry… I’m not imagining that.
“Hey.” I finally step up beside her, passing her the tart and water. “Take this. You need to keep your strength up.”
She takes a bite. “You’re sweet.” Her voice is soft, and her tongue darts out, swiping over her lower lip at a stray crumb. She winks at me. “But I can take care of myself.”
Before I can respond, Bandit bounds over, a stick in his mouth, eyes bright with anticipation. Blake laughs, finishes the last of her tart, and tosses the stick. He races after it, kicking up sand.
I want to invite her for dinner tonight, the words right on the tip of my tongue, but Joy is chatting with some of the other volunteers nearby, and Blake might be more likely to give me an excuse if they can hear every word. I’ll wait until the end of the day. Blake’s usually the last to leave and we’ll have some time alone.
“Did you need something?” She leans down and picks up the stick again, one eyebrow raised.
A hand dragged through the curl of my hair. “No, I just wanted to make sure you were eating.” The excuse sounds dumb even to my ears, but I’ve honestly got no game as far as she’s concerned.
I walk over to Joy and the other volunteers, their conversation light and easy, and see how everyone is doing. At the same time, Carlos heads toward Blake, stopping beside her. They both watch Bandit as he tears across the beach again.
“Hey, did that guy ever come back again?” Carlos’ voice is tinged with concern and my attention snaps to them. Carlos works part-time at the Tavern when he’s not working in the hardware store his family owns.
Blake’s expression tightens, knowing instantly who he’s talking about. “No, he hasn’t. I’ve actually been trying to get hold of him, but he hasn’t called me back.”
“Probably a good thing.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” And there’s a sadness in her eyes, something heavy settling over her.
My curiosity is piqued—whoever this guy is, Carlos is concerned about him being near Blake.
Carlos looks at her for a moment longer: “Just be careful, okay?”
“You know me.”
“Yeah,” he replies, giving her a friendly pat on the shoulder. “I know how stubborn you are.”
Soon we’re back at work, Blake and I shoveling oil-slicked sand into bags. The shoreline is a hive of activity, with teams working in unison, me calling out instructions periodically. Part of me wants to ask Blake about what Carlos said, but it’s none of my business. Not yet, anyway.
“Hey, if you angle the shovel more, you’ll avoid spilling any,” I suggest to Blake, stepping in closer. I use my own shovel to demonstrate. “See, like this.”
Her eyes flash. “I’ve got it.”
“Okay, okay.” I take a step back, hands up by my face.
“You don’t need to hover over everyone. We’re not children.”
“I just want to make sure it’s done right.” I hand her a fresh pair of gloves, noticing hers are torn. “The more efficient we are, the sooner this will be done.”
She takes the gloves, eyes locking with mine, and she laughs. “Thanks. You can’t help yourself, can you?”
I shrug.
She switches gloves, looking at me sideways, her tanned skin and the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks catching the light. Bandit barks excitedly as he runs down the beach, while the other volunteers continue to work methodically, their tools glinting in the sunlight, the air thick with the smell of soap and seawater as Joy leads a small group cleaning the seabirds.
“So, Mr. Boss Man, how many gallons of oil do you think we’ve scooped up already?” She pushes a stray lock of hair back under her bandana.
“More than you’d manage without me,” I shoot back with a grin.
I love the way the green of her eyes light up at my words, the way she never backs down from a challenge.
“Oh please, you’d be lost without my motivational skills. Admit it, I keep everyone going.”
“Yeah, maybe you do,” I concede. Her tenacity, the way she throws herself into everything with her whole heart, is something I’ve always loved about her, even back when we were kids.
She raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my admission. “Wait, did you just admit I’m right?”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“Fair enough,” she replies with a satisfied smirk. “But seriously. This would be a lot harder without you. Even if you’re already driving people crazy with your micromanaging.”
“They’re not going crazy. They appreciate a strong leader.”
Our eyes meet, and for a moment, the world around us fades away, and longing for her makes me hyper aware of my body, of Blake’s, the rise and fall of her chest, the glowing skin that dips between the perfect swell of her breasts.
I love everything she does, even when we clash. Especially when we clash. That’s when I see the fire in her, the spark that makes her so irresistible.
She breaks the gaze first, clearing her throat. “Well, we’d better get back to it. This oil isn’t going to clean itself.”
“Right behind you.”
By mid-afternoon, it’s time to stop for the day, the other volunteers already packing up and heading home. The rhythmic sound of shovels and brushes soon fades away, replaced by the gentle lapping of the waves. It’s just Blake and me left on the beach as we work to fill the last couple of bags with filthy sand.
“Thanks for today.” My voice is quiet, breaking the silence. “I know I can be... intense.”
Blake’s lips curl into a teasing smile. “You think?” But there’s warmth in her eyes that puts me at ease. “I appreciate your drive, you don’t need to worry.”
Bandit, exhausted from the day, lays at my feet, tongue lolling, breathing heavy. I look down at him, then back at Blake. It’s now or never. “So, do you have plans for dinner?”
She looks taken aback, clearly not expecting the question. “Dinner?” she echoes, as if testing the word.
“Yeah.” I try to keep my tone casual. “You’ve got to eat, right? It’s not a date, just dinner.”
She hesitates, glancing out at the horizon, then back at me. “I don’t know...”
“Come on,” I coax. “You’ve worked hard today. You deserve a good meal. And besides, I know the Tidal Tavern is closed today. You don’t need to work, and Bandit and I could use the company. Come on, you don’t want to disappoint Bandit.”
Blake studies me for a moment, weighing her options. “Alright, but just dinner. No funny business.”
“Promise,” I say, raising my hands in mock surrender. “Just two old friends having dinner. I’ll even cook for you.”
She shakes her head with a bemused smile. “Alright, Mr. Boss Man. Let’s see if you’re as good at cooking as you are at organizing cleanups.”
I grin, excitement surging through me. “You won’t be disappointed.”
“I’ll head home for a shower and meet you at your place?”
“Just come straight to mine. You walked today?”
“I did.”
“I’ll drive then. You can shower there while I make dinner.”
She scrunches her nose up, hands palming her hips. “I don’t want to impose, and I don’t have a change of clothes, anyway.”
“I’ve got plenty of clothes you can borrow. And besides, we’re friends, right? It’s not a big deal.”
After a few seconds, she shrugs. “Okay, I guess so.”
“Great! And don’t worry, I promise not to put you in anything too embarrassing. Unless you’re into neon spandex, of course.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “I’ll take my chances.”
We walk off the beach together, the bags filled with oily sand lined up neatly for pick up. Bandit trots happily beside us, and I grin down at him. Things are falling into place.