16. Emory
EMORY
Ijust dropped Granny and her scooter off for an afternoon of visiting when I spot Jake coming out of Holey Moley.
“Looking for me?”
He turns fast, and the smile that spreads across his face does something warm and deeply unhelpful to my insides. He jogs toward me. “I was.”
“Just got back,” I say. “I took Granny into Summerlin for a follow-up appointment.”
He spins around, scanning the empty space around me, making a dramatic production of looking for her. “Did you leave her there?”
I laugh. “I did not, but believe me, I was tempted. Since we already had the scooter out, she wanted to go visiting.”
He smiles the big smile. The one that always makes me smile too. “Does this mean you’re free the rest of the day?”
“I just need to check on Frank and make sure he didn’t eat the inventory while we were gone,” I say. “But yeah. I’m free.”
“Wanna go out on the boat?” he asks. “I’ve got pots to check.”
I fold my arms pretending to consider it, which is a lie because I already said yes the second he said wanna.
“So you need a first mate.”
He snickers. Then the snicker breaks loose into actual laughter and makes me immediately suspicious.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
“Jake.”
“We never really grow out of puberty,” he says, dragging a hand over his mouth. “A man hears the word mate and suddenly he’s thirteen again.”
“Apparently.”
He laughs again, softer this time, and it settles over me in a way that feels… familiar. I hate how quickly I can fall back into this with him. My body just goes, oh. Right. This is where we live now.
I glance toward the dock. “What time?”
“As soon as you’re ready. I can grab sandwiches from Larry’s first. Which one do you want?”
“The usual.”
As if right on cue—“HOW LAZY IS HE?”
Jake lifts one eyebrow. “Is that a test to see if I remember?”
“Maybe.”
His smile deepens just enough to tell me he does.
“I’ll change and check on Frank,” I say. “Meet you at the dock as soon as I do?”
“Deal.”
He starts to turn, then looks back at me. “And Mo?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really glad you’re coming.”
I give him a small, careful smile. “Yeah. Me too.”
He nods once and heads to Lazy Larry’s, and I stand there watching him walk away, even though that’s a habit I should’ve broken years ago.
Then I turn around and speed-walk inside. Frank is behind the counter with chocolate fingerprints on his shirt and what appears to be half a glaze twist disappearing into his mouth.
I point at him. “That’s inventory.”
He freezes. Chews. Swallows. “Quality control.”
“Mm-hmm.”
He reaches for another one.
“Frank.”
He sighs and pulls his hand back.
I head upstairs, close the door behind me, and lean against it.
Boat.
With Jake.
Alone.
Fine. Totally fine.
I push off the door and go straight to the dresser. Pink polka-dot bikini. Linen shorts. Soft white tee. Sunscreen. Hair tie. Lip balm. bkr. I move fast like I’m packing for something normal and not whatever this is.
I glance out the window. Jake’s already walking down the dock, a bag from Lazy Larry’s in one hand, a cooler in the other. His shirt stretching across his shoulders. His calves, tan and tight. His ass—
I jump back from the window like I’ve witnessed something illegal.
“Good grief, get it together,” I mumble.
I grab my phone.
I’m going on the boat with Jake this afternoon will you be okay?
Granny answers immediately.
I survived before you were born. I’ll manage.
I’ll be back this evening love you
Bring me crabs or don’t come home. But don’t come home with crabs.
I laugh out loud, shake my head, and slip the phone into my tote.
By the time I get downstairs and cut across to the dock, The Point has gone quiet. No Miss Hattie commentary. No suspiciously well-timed Mrs. Kravitz sighting. No one yelling anything embarrassing. It feels unnatural.
Jake looks up when he hears me coming. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
He just looks at me, and I have to actively ignore the way that feels. “Where’s Hank?” I ask.
“At the restaurant with Bethany.” He unties one dock line and coils it neatly, rope falling into place like second nature. “In the air conditioning. It’s too hot for him today. If we were just cruising, I’d bring his cooling mats and fan, but checking pots takes a while.”
“You miss him already.”
He glances at me. “That obvious?”
I step closer and reach for the bandana around his neck, twisting the edge lightly between my fingers. Light blue with little blueberries.
The movement feels so natural it startles me. Memory finding its way back into my hands. As if my hands didn’t get the memo that ten years happened.
“Is this one of his?” I ask.
Jake looks down at my hand. Then back at me. “Am I pathetic?”
“No.” My thumb brushes the fabric once before I let go. “I actually think it’s sexy.”
He grins. “Oh yeah?”
“For a man to love his dog as much as you love Hank,” I say, smiling.
His grin spreads and… the dimple! He still has the dimple. “Sexy. You think I’m sexy, huh?”
I turn toward the bay before my face gives away the answer screaming inside me. “Step your sexy back and untie the boat, Wheeler.”
He laughs under his breath, and I can still feel the smile on his face even after I stop looking at him.
He shoves us off from the dock with his foot, hops down onto the boat, and moves to the console with that same confidence that makes everything he does look effortless.
Blue Crab Bay looks different from out here on the water. The historic buildings along The Point lean toward the shoreline from hundreds of years watching boats come and go. On the residential side, docks stretch out from houses, skiffs and center consoles rocking lazily.
Jake hands me a paper bag. “Here.”
I peek inside. “So, what sandwich did you get me?”
“Take a look.”
Wrapped beside some sleeves of Nutter Butters are two sandwiches in Lazy Larry’s paper.
I pull one out and read a joke from the paper it’s wrapped in. “It’s illegal to laugh out loud in Hawaii. You have to keep it to a low ha.” We both laugh.
“How many tickles does it take to make an octopus laugh?”
“How many?”
“Ten tickles.” I laugh again. He groans.
“Both sandwiches are the same,” he says.
I unwrap one.
And stop.
The Toasted Soulmate. Grilled peanut butter and strawberry jam. A core childhood memory sits in my lap in paper wrapper form. I look up at him.
He remembered.
I take a bite, close my eyes, and let out a soft, involuntary moan.
“Is it as good as you remember?”
“Better,” I say around a mouth full of peanut butter and jelly. Before I can say anything else, movement onshore catches my eye. “Jake, look.”
He follows my gaze toward the island. A little cluster of monkeys darts along the beach.
“They’re so cute.”
“No, Mo.”
“What?”
“Those warning signs are there for a reason.”
“Afraid we’ll take one home?”
“You do not want one of those monkeys. They used to be test animals for some nasty shit. They may look sweet, but God help us if they ever get off that island.”
I lean away from the edge of the boat. “I’d be okay getting farther away from them.”
He steers us wider. “You’ll hear the full Monkey Island story later.”
“Can’t wait.”
When there’s a lull in the breeze, you can feel how brutal the sun is today.
“Hey, you’re starting to look a little pink.”
He glances down at himself.
“I brought sunscreen. Want it?”
“Yes please.”
I dig through my tote, shake the bottle, squeeze some into my palm. “Back and shoulders?”
“That’d be great.”
The moment my hands touch his skin, he goes completely still. His shoulders tighten under my palms, then slowly ease. I can feel the heat of him. Solid muscle under sun-warmed skin. The steady rise and fall of his breathing. It reminds me to breathe.
My hands are shaking a little. I hope he doesn’t notice. I lift the bandana off his neck and smooth the sunscreen across and move to one shoulder, then the other, focusing hard on the motion instead of the fact that I’m touching him like this.
“You know,” I say carefully, “just because I’m leaving soon—“
“It’s okay, Mo.” I feel him exhale. “I knew this wasn’t forever. I don’t have expectations.”
My hands stop. “But what if I did?”
The engine slows to an idle. He turns, meeting my eyes fully. “Do you?”
My gaze drops to his mouth and away again too late to pretend I didn’t. “Were you going to kiss me the other night?”
“Yes.”
Absolutely no hesitation. None.
“Why didn’t you?”
“You weren’t ready.”
I step closer. The space between us narrows until I can feel him without touching. My pulse goes wild. My thoughts go completely blank. I know I was about to say something. I have no idea what it was.
“You’re starting to look pink too,” he says softly.
The breath I let out is almost a laugh. I hand him the bottle and turn, lifting my hair. “Would you mind?”
He takes what feels like a long time to answer. “I don’t mind.”
His fingers brush my shoulders, cool from the lotion, and I suck in a breath.
Then his hands move slowly down my back.
Lower. I get goosebumps despite the ninety-degree heat.
He lingers at the tie of my bikini top. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck.
He’s trying not to cross a line neither of us has actually drawn but both of us are very aware of.
I stare at the horizon and attempt to breathe like a normal person.
I fail miserably.
I try to focus on anything other than the path his hands take across my skin, pausing again at the small of my back. His fingertips graze the side of my hip. I grip the edge of the bench.
The silence feels charged. If I turn around right now, there’ll be no turning back.
He clears his throat. “First trap up ahead.”
I step away from him. “Right,” I say. “Crabs.”
I snag the rope with the hook and latch it on the pulley. Jake pulls the pots and sorts through the crabs with practiced ease.
“This one’s female,” he says.
“How can you tell?”
“Red claws.”
“Like her nails are painted.”
He glances over at me and smiles. “Yeah. Like her nails are painted,” he says, setting her back in the water.
He laughs when I start singing Under the Sea. We used to sing it as kids, and Jake would suck in his cheeks and pucker his lips. Soon we’re singing it together, ridiculously off key.
Then he makes the face.
When he returns to the console to steer us to the next trap, he looks at his phone and starts laughing. He turns the screen toward me and shows me a photo Bethany just sent. Hank is sleeping upside down behind the bar with his tongue hanging out.
Different day. Different drunk.
We’re both still laughing when he says, “When Hank comes with me, I’ll let a few crabs loose on the deck for him. He loves chasing them.”
“Don’t they pinch him?”
“I band them first.”
He glances back at the photo and smiles. “That’s what started his feud with French Fry. Two years ago, he stole one of Hank’s crabs.”
“Two years ago? And they’re still feuding?”
“Bulldogs have short legs but long memories. They can hold a grudge forever.”
“I’m Team Hank. I have my own feud with that seagull.”
Hours pass without either of us noticing. We work. We eat Nutter Butters. We laugh. We sing some more. Badly. By the time we pull the last trap, the sky has gone soft and gold.
I sit beside him on the bench as we head back in. The boat hits a small wave, and I slide sideways into him. His arm comes up automatically, steadying me. His hand settles at my waist and stays there.
I look up, and his eyes are already on me.
I tilt my chin up without thinking.
He lifts one hand and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his knuckles brushing along my jaw, then down the side of my neck.
A spark shoots straight through me.
My hand lands on his chest. His heartbeat is fast under my palm.
He looks at my mouth. Then back to my eyes.
“I’m not going to rush you, Mo,” he says softly.
“You’re not. I want this. I just… I don’t know how to do this without messing it up.”
“Then we don’t rush it.”
I let out a breath and look at him. “You don’t seem like you’re struggling.”
“Mo. I’m barely holding it together.” He doesn’t just look at my mouth, he stares at it with a kind of starved intensity that makes me throb. His hand at my waist tightens, pulling me just an inch closer until my bare thigh is against his. The contact feels like a live wire.
That does it.
I reach for him.
And then over his shoulder, I see The Point. I step back before I reach a different point—the point of no return.
Because I want this too much to risk ruining it twice.